#who do you think named him brandon and left him somewhere safe???

[gregorygerwitz]

Brandon "Mouse" McHolland (for @highclasstrashposts, who did most of this worldbuilding, honestly)

In the summer of 1985, a basket was left in front of Firehouse 51. Inside, there was a baby, and a blanket, and a note pinned to the fleece. There was no explanation, no number to call, no indication that whoever had left him there would return.

take care of Brandon for me

There weren't many people to take care of him - between Herrmann's new marriage and Boden's crumbling one, the number of homes he could go to was slim. But it would be worse if he was put into the system, being passed from one foster home to another without any kind of stability. If they wanted to follow the single instruction left in the note, and take care of the child that was left in their care, he needed a good life, someone constant in it, a support system he could always rely on no matter where life took him.

So, even if Mouch was the one who took him in, gave him food and a roof, it really did take a village to raise a child. While his name legally became Brandon McHolland, he had an entire firehouse to call family. He had uncles and cousins, even if none of them were related to him by blood. He had as many people to go to for advice as he could imagine, and plenty of space to roam around the firehouse when he started walking and saying more than babbled syllables.

When he still had trouble repeating a few names he heard around the firehouse, with the ch coming out closer to sh, he got his own silly nickname that wasn't far off from his adopted father's. By the time his age reached double digits, he answered to Mouse more than he answered to Brandon, and he almost preferred it that way. Even if they weren't family biologically, having a name, no matter how silly, that could be easily mistaken for another felt important to him. It gave him a connection to the most important person in his life beyond the same address and last name.

"No one cares more about abandoned babies than me."

[ request a moodboard ]

[trashcankitty12]

Timmy Headcanons

(Sorry for the wait, life, am I right?)

Timmy Somerville. Cute nerd, badass strategist, and most likely one of the smartest dudes you’ll ever meet.

Poor dude doesn’t always get the recognition he deserves, so here it is. I hope.

(Also, I took the name for his hometown/home city from the comics.)

(Also, these headcanons are mostly for my main verses. “Left” and “The New Company of Light”.)

-Timmy is from Zenith, more specifically, the City of Titania, Zenith’s Capitol.

-It’s just him and his mom and dad, and their robo-cat, Chester. (Timmy named him after a character from his favorite game series.)

-Timmy doesn’t have many family members, as both his parents are also only children and both sets of grandparents live in the warmer climates of Zenith. (There are like… Two or three warm cities/villages in Zenith.)

-But his parents do have lots of friends that are sort of like his ‘aunts and uncles’. (And they spoiled him like they were his family.)

-Honestly Timmy is a bit spoiled as far as family love goes. They have always been supportive of his projects and are just so proud of him.

-He tends to be closer to his dad than to his mom. His dad was more of a stay-at-home dad (he ran his business from home, which was game designing), and his mom worked as a hotshot lawyer on Zenith. (Mostly for copyright claiming and patenting.)

-His dad always let him playtest his games (assuming they weren’t for more mature audiences, Timmy was a bit of a sheltered child about those subjects). And Timmy… Well it started Timmy’s love of them.

-As he got older and more into the mechanics of game design, mechanic-ing in general, his parents let him start using his room as a workshop.

-He used to take everything apart he could get his hands on, and then would put it all back together, good as new. (And sometimes, better.)

-His parents used to suspect he may have some techno-magic because of how the machines responded to him, but they never could prove it.

-(To this day, even the others in his squad question if Timmy has some latent-magical abilities. He tries to laugh it off, but he has found himself wondering too… Even to the point of trying to summon his magic. So far, nothing.)

-His vision started going bad around the time he turned 12. He was averse to getting glasses at first, but his run-in with contacts didn’t go so well… So glasses. (Which sucks when you wear helmets, but he’s come up with specialized helmets for people like him with poor vision. It just took some time to create. And for his mother to help with the copyright and patents.)

-Timmy had braces for a short time after an incident in elementary school messed his mouth up.

-(Dodgeball at Titania Prep was cut-throat. Cut. Throat.)

-Timmy also has an allergy to seafood. Which sucks, because he likes the smell of fried fish and the sauces that come with shrimp… But if he eats it, he can’t breathe and he’d just rather not deal with that.

-He was actually a pretty popular guy at his elementary and middle schools. He was the guy who had access to first-rate games before anyone else did, and he got to have the latest in technology. (And could explain it without it being boring.)

-So how did little Timmy decide to go to Red Fountain?

-His middle school hosted one of those fairs that shows off different high schools that someone could go to. There was Zenithian Prep, which was connected to the main college of Zenith, Zeni Tech. The Eraklyon Institute. The Callistian Artistry School for the Aspiring Youth (what a mouthful). Coventry Academy for Witches and Wizards. And Red Fountain.

-Timmy had been wanting to go to the prep school, just as was expected of him. But Red Fountain just… Spoke to him. He wanted to be different. He wanted to be more than just ‘the smart Zenith kid’. He wanted to standout somewhere. And he kind of liked the idea of the adventures Red Fountain offered.

-So he started his training for the entrance exams. Thankfully, Chester could easily be programmed to be an exercising partner and couldn’t be easily swayed to deviate from the course.

-Granted, the physical part of the exam was hard, but Codatorta saw something in him and personally vouched for him to join the program.

-Timmy’s parents were shocked at first, but since Timmy got in and had expressed such a want to go, they approved and signed the necessary papers. (With the promise that Timmy would bail if it became too much for him. No shame in realizing something wasn’t for you.)

-Not gonna lie, adjusting to Red Fountain life was a bit hard at first, but once he got into the routine, it was second nature.

-Granted, he was never as physically fit as Riven or Sky or Brandon, but he could hold his own in a fight.

-Hand-to-hand fighting isn’t his strong suite, but he is tenacious about it and isn’t afraid to exploit weaknesses his opponent has.

-Thanks to his hand-eye coordination skills from playing video games, he’s actually really good at aiming blasters and performing with a bow and arrows.

-Piloting is his favorite though. He loves getting to ‘play with the ships’ and getting to work on them and fly them around. It’s just… He loves it so much. You guys just don’t understand.

-Please don’t ask him to fight with swords or shields or spears… He does his best and he could hold his own… But it’s just not for him. (He doesn’t have the upper-body strength to really fight and hold up the weapons too. At least, not for long periods. He does well enough just to get passing marks.)

-Strategy is another strong suite of Timmy’s. He loves plotting and looking over maps and creating the battle strategies. (Maybe, just maybe, it makes him think of the Magical Dimension’s version of DnD, but he won’t say that outloud to anyone but Tecna.)

-He also sort of liked the war game drills Red Fountain ran. And the off-world training exercises.

-And okay, he wasn’t a complete fan of the camping trips, but he did have his favorite camping moments. Like bonding with his squad-mates and getting to know more about the people around him.

-(And getting to learn more about people other than Zenithians. Despite being the tech giants of the Magical Dimension, Zenith doesn’t really communicate much with the rest of the realms. So this was a great experience for Timmy and he got to share his adventures with his family who also loved hearing about them.)

-The Sky/Brandon thing did hurt him though. Like he found out early-on who they really were because they weren’t as discreet as they should have been at Red Fountain. But the fact that they didn’t just come to him and admit to him who they were kind of stung. Especially since he was supposed to rely on these guys to be his ‘brothers-in-arms’.

-His crush on Tecna happened early-on too. When he first met her, she made him so nervous and he just couldn’t believe that he was talking to that Tecna Mode, daughter of the owners of Mode Inc., and he just… Almost lost his cool. (Okay he did lose it, but she laughed and joked and that made it so much more bearable.)

-(And the fact that after they started dating, his parents fell in love with her too, just sealed the deal for him.)

-He does tend to go to Helia and Brandon for romantic advice. He knows Tecna loves him as is, but he wants to continue being able to make her feel special and keep the warm-fuzziness going.

-When she was thought to be dead in Omega, Timmy had a full-on meltdown. He went to her memorial at Alfea and he cried like a baby to her parents. He apologized at least half a dozen times to them. But he swore to them he’d bring her back. Alive. Somehow. He swore it.

-It didn’t matter that everyone thought he was crazy or delusional. Tecna was alive and he could feel it. And so could Digit. And if anyone would know if Tecna was really dead, it’d be the damn pixie she was bonded to. So she had to be alive.

-And damn, when he did see her again, when they finally made it back to the ship in one piece… He almost couldn’t bear to let her go. He basically let Helia fly the ship back so he could spend the entire flight holding her. (And she let him, despite not usually being one for PDA.)

-After that, he texted her nearly non-stop for a month, just be sure she was still there. That it wasn’t a dream he’d had. Thankfully, it was all true. She was safe and back at Alfea.

-Timmy has a poor sleep schedule, despite having been training for early morning drills at RF since he was 14. When he’s working on a project though, nothing will stop him from finishing it. (Unless the others literally pull him away.)

-(Which has happened before. Riven will literally just scoop up Timmy and take him to his room and plop him down and be like ‘sleep or I’ll knock you out’.)

-Timmy has a small case of tinnitus due to blaster use and working on the RF ships.

-Timmy also runs mostly on caffeine. Coffee, energy drinks, soda. You name it. (Helia and Nabu have been subtly trying to remove the caffeine over the years, but Tecna keeps enabling him… Or rather, enabling them both since she also runs on caffeine.)

-Timmy has tried his hands at poetry. It’s not the best, but it makes him feel great to work on writing and Tecna absolutely loves the poems he writes for her.

-Stella and Timmy have secretly been working on uniforms for soldiers/cadets in training. She wants them to be a little more stylish and he has some ideas on how to better protect the person wearing them. (And maybe add in some heat/air condition stuff. Those things are super temperamental.)

-And Layla has been helping Timmy stay in shape since they all graduated and moved to Earth. (Well, temporarily relocated to Earth.) She knows he’s slacked a bit on training since he hasn’t been at RF, and he needs to keep on his toes.

-He likes Earth okay, but he has to fight his need to fix everything to be on par with the rest of the Magical Dimension. (Please Bloom? Just one car? Or maybe a computer? Please? Please?)

-Timmy loves when they have game-night at the loft. Even if it tends to end in screaming matches between Stella, Riven, Musa, and Tecna. (So many super-competitive people in one place.)

-He has discovered that he makes the ‘best sweet tea’. At least, according to Bloom. (He doesn’t understand her or what this ‘sweet tea’ is… He’s honestly just pretty sure he ruined a thing of tea… But hey… Earth is weird.)

-Timmy hopes that after all of this ‘saving the magical dimension’ stuff is over, he and Tecna will get to live a quiet life. Or at least one where their inventions and games blow-up and they get to bring joy to others’ lives.

-(But first, the Magical Dimension needs to stop needing to be saved. And like hell that’ll happen.)

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Cold Eyes (Dark Rey x Reader) [Part 14]

Summary: You confront Rey after the meeting ending in her arms again but wake up to some bad news and a prisoner.

Words: 2,778

A/N: Things go south from here because we're reaching the end of the series, just a few chapters left. Hope you like it!!

Time seemed to pass slowly while you waited for Rey in her chambers, with nothing more to look at than the big window you stared at the shining stars that adorned the vast and black sky, for a moment you feared that much darkness could even exist, the more you glanced at it the more you felt like if you were drowning.

Drowning on your thoughts and doubts. Thinking about the First Order’s breakthrough over the galaxy, the memory of the holograms fresh in your mind and how many sistem they had already taken, not to mention the cannons in the planets. Hux's words were also stuck in your head, he made sure of that.

Thinking about the brief talk with Finn and your friends in the Resistance, how many of them would be there? not much surely but you hoped they were staying safe, praying the First Order wouldn’t find them.

Thinking about Rey.

About her actions in the past and present, the atrocities she had done and she was still doing, killing people somewhere in the galaxy so she could rule upon them. About the truly monster she had become.

You didn’t realized she was back until you heard her voice calling your name and felt her hand laying on your shoulder.

“How was the meeting?” she asked with a bit of a smile on her face that faded away as soon as you spoke.

“Did you know about the cannons?” you murmured, your gaze focused on the sky.

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew it was going to push you further away from me” she sighed “It was the very last thing I wanted, Y/N” you kept silent “It was Hux’s idea. After Endor he thought it would be helpful to have more options…” Rey explained.

“In case something happen to the fleet, I heard that” you interrupted her finally turning to gaze into her confused eyes.”What I don’t understand is why?” you begged for answers “Why?”

“Control” she said serious “A guarantee they will do as we say and they won’t dare to rebel.”

“And what if they do? You’re gonna just blow the whole planet, Rey?” you huffed.

“No.” she said “No, I can’t do that. Not again, not after what I did to our planets” she told you and you saw her eyes filling with worry, with pain, with regret. “That’s something I just can’t do anymore.”

You watched every detail of her face for a moment. This wasn't her plan, the whole cannon thing was Hux's idea. Her words calming you down a little bit but her eyes, soft and sincere let you trust in her again.

Nodding you murmured a little "Okay"

"Is there something else, Y/N?" She asked concerned. "I sense you a bit tense" There was a lot going on inside your head but it wasn't something you could discuss with her, you trusted her more than before but still not enough.

"No, just that." You told her. "I didn't expect something like that and taking your place on the meeting today was a lot, I don't know how you do it" you said finally in a more relaxed tone, even smiling a little.

"Yeah, it can be too much sometimes" she added with a smile and you shared a small laugh with her, but as much as you tried the images of the holograms kept coming back to your mind, the whole day had been a lot to take, you just wanted to take all of those thoughts out of your head somehow.

"Y/N" she murmured getting back your attention "Are you okay?"

"Yeah" you told her "I just, can't stop thinking. Wish there was a way to just shut my mind " you confessed chuckling.

"Well, I can help you with that" she told you with an irresistible smirk before she leaned to capture your lips, you melted under her touch when she wrapped her arms around you. The effect she had on you was bigger than you would like to admit but feeling her close to you pulled you into a state of calm, so you allowed her to work her magic on you.

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself lost in a trance lying beneath her on the soft mattress, panting and softly moaning as her gentle hands roamed over your body, discovering and memorizing every single spot that made you shiver in pleasure. Felt good to feel her again, her warmth, her touch, the feeling of her lips pressing against your skin.

The world seemed to vanish with every stroke and every caress, every passionate kiss and hungry gaze, the way her fingers always found the right way to your most delicate spots sending new weaves of pure pleasure taking you closer and closer to your high until the only thing you could think of was her and nothing more than her.

Later that night you cuddled up to her, watching the way her chest slowly rose and fell calmly on her sleep, you observed her relaxed face inches away from yours, she looked younger when she was like this even a bit defenseless, not the cold blooded woman everyone thought she was, but the girl from Jakku who waited endless years for her family.

You sensed peace coming from her as she was lost in her dreams, you sensed calm and light. For all the stars, you sensed light in her, you felt the light side of the Force trying to bring her back, fighting against the shadows a bright light shined inside her. You smiled for a moment thinking of what a life could be with Rey, imagined a house in a place surrounded with flowers for her to smell, a quiet place to meditate together and more nights like this. You pictured her enjoying the wind on her hair loose over her shoulders, smiling when she noticed your eyes on her. You hoped someday, after all this war, all this fight this dream could come true but for now you let yourself fall into a deep sleep with the image of what she could be on your mind.

******

The bed was cold when still sleepy you searched for Rey beside you, her comforting warmth was gone and instead you found yourself alone in the big bed. It was early, earlier than usual, even for a training day but Rey were nowhere to be seen. “Another mission” you thought as you tried your best to wake completely up, it was not a strange thing Rey tended to travel a lot to conquer new planets, sometimes she would be gone for weeks but she usually said something, anything.

Reluctantly you left the comfort of your bed and searched for some new clean clothes, dark clothes always matching the side of the force of your master.

You thought for a moment on Finn, was he going to communicate with you today too?.

The hatch of your room opened with ease and a tall man appeared in the doorway. You recognized his posture the second you saw it, his suspicious stare and overconfident grin.

“Supreme Leader requires your presence in the containment area.” General Hux said indifferent. The cells? Why did she want you on the cells?

“Fine, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” you answered with the same cold tone in your voice, it didn’t please you to having him anywhere near you, you didn’t trust him before, you didn’t like him and now after all he said to you you liked him much less.

“Now.” he said with the same tone he used to give orders to his troopers. “She requires you now.”

You stared angrily at him for a moment before following him outside your quarters, you could see he enjoyed giving you orders as there was a very tiny but satisfied grin on his face the whole time you walked slightly behind him in silence.

Ignoring his presence you thought about why the cells and thought the worst, maybe she found out about your talk with Finn, you feared she would have figured it out.

You were a bit glad when you arrived to her side, smiled with the sight of you and even briefly kissed. You felt relieved though the feeling didn’t last enough.

There was a open cell and inside it man on his knees, hands tied on his back observing every move you made.

“Brandon?” you said surprised as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

“So that’s his name” Rey said “I don’t think i ever got to meet him in my time with the Resistance” she smirked.

“What- how?” you mumbled.

“There was a battle last night” Rey rushed to answer “Most of them escaped but my troops captured him and brought him to me.” She said “Of course, I was… busy last night, so he had to wait until now” she spoke in a seductive way as she eyed you from head to toe making sure her guest heard and noticed every remark she made towards you.

But you were frozen next to her, your eyes focused on this man kneeling in front of you. He glanced at you with a stranger grin between angry and satisfied. This man, the one that made you leave the Resistance, the reason you were captured, a mean mouthy pilot that hated you, why did it had to be him?

“What you need of me, Rey?” you murmured finally looking at her.

“I’ve been trying to get information out of him, but he’s not easy to break” Rey said “Perhaps he would speak with a friend.”

“We’re not friends” you told her gazing at him. You weighed your options for a moment, she needed information and so you did if you wanted to help your real friends. If you found that information before her maybe you could do something but if she did… well, then it was the end of the Resistance.

"I'll try" you said serious "Give me a few minutes alone with him" you talked serious, confident of your words.

"Alone?" She said giving you an untrusting look "Are you sure?"

"I am" you told her before capturing her lips for a moment. She had a big smile when you pulled away, she trusted you, you felt it.

"Fine" she said "you have ten minutes" with a last gaze at the prisoner she walked down the hall, her black robes weaving behind her like a shadow as she got lost in the distance of the endless hallway.

You stepped inside the cell and closed the door. He kept silence the whole time just looking at you.

"Look, I know you hate me but we need to help each other right now" you told him "Just tell me something, whatever", you said.

Silence.

"She's gonna kill you if you're not useful" you warned him but still he didn't say a word which made your blood started boiling with anger. "Please, anything just talk to me okay? I'm trying to help" you said "Are you even listening?"

Then you finally heard his voice as he let go a sarcastic laugh that made you close your fist.

"I knew you were with her, I knew you were on her side" he said "I told them but nobody believe me" he chuckled he said before laughing again. "I wish Dameron could see you now or Finn always defending you. I wish they could see who you truly are, Y/N." He mocked "what would they said if they knew you were sleeping with her".

"That's none of your business" you said serious and tried to control yourself. "We're running out of time, Brandon. How are they?"

"Barely holding on thanks to your wicked girlfriend" he said "She just won't stop attacking us, many have died and where were you? Oh yes, probably fucking with her" he huffed.

"Where are they?" You said, you knew he was just teasing you that was just the way he was but still his words were somehow truth and every one of them hurted you.

"And you think I'm going to tell you?" He said “No, you’re just a traitor, did you really changed the rebellion for her? Just so you could get laid?”

“Enough!” you snapped tired of hearing his bullshit. “We're on the same side" you told him, exasperation rumbling in your voice "I don't hope you understand it but I want to save them, all of them in the Resistance and around the galaxy. You haven't seen the things I have and trust me there are more important things to worry about than who I sleep with, So please," you said moving closer to him until you were inches away from him in a threatening tone "tell me where are they."

He looked at you surprised as if he would never expect you to stand against him, there was also fear on his eyes. The cell’s door opened casting the shadow of the intruder over the small cell.

“Did he tell you something?” Rey asked.

“Nothing useful” you said “He’s a complete jerk, everything that comes out of his mouth his bullshit” you said serious yet furious already walking towards the exit of the small room. You felt useless again, he had the ability to annoy you incredibly fast, it was a combination of his sarcastic sentences, the way he knew where to hurt you with his words and that stupid smirk on his face.

His deep laugh rumbled across the room.

"Oh, poor General Organa she's gonna really be hurt when she finds out you're just another disappointment" he said smiling as more and more anger spreaded across your body. Those last words were enough to make you lose it.

Turning around you extended your arm using the Force to lift him off the ground.

“Shut up! I’ve had enough of you” you hissed “You treated me like garbage, you turned the whole Resistance against me forcing me to leave” as you spoke you felt the anger guiding your actions, slowly closing your hand causing him shortness of breath.

Rey smiled satisfied next you, she sensed your anger, your frustration and for the first time you were listening to her lessons: let your emotions guide you.

“Not only that, Y/N” Rey leaned to whisper close to your ear “He sold you to me”

“What the hell did you do?” you murmured “Explain yourself!” you demanded letting go just a bit of the pressure on his neck.

“I contacted her and gave her your coordinates after you left!” he bursted gasping for air. When you thought this man couldn’t be more hideous he came with this making you close your hand a bit more out of pain and anger.

“Kill him” Rey whispered on your ear as she rested her hands softly on your shoulders, encouraging you “You know he deserves to die, you want to kill him I feel it.”

Listening to her words you put more pressure around his neck slowly choking him with the Force. You felt the Force in you, darker than ever but stronger than you had ever felt before. It made you feel powerful, it felt good to have control over this twopenny man. Just a small move with your hand and he would be gone.

“Kill him, Y/N.” Rey whispered.

Brandon gasped for air and taking as much as he could he looked at you.

“You’re a monster” he barely managed to said “Just like her.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your hand opened and released him from your grip dropping to the ground with a loud thud. He gasped and coughed desperately.

“Oh, Y/N you were so close to know your truly potential” Rey said disappointed rising her own hand to end your job and in a few seconds Brandon’s lifeless body laid on the cold ground of the small cell.

Rey walked outside while you contemplated the body on the floor just moments ago you were going to kill, without a doubt, without flinching. It was wrong. The dark side of the Force was still telling you to do it. How could you let it happen?.

“Ready my ship” Rey ordered to a stormtrooper in the hallway. Confused you hurried to reach Rey.

“Where are you going?” you said walking by her side.

“The guy knew where’s the new Resistance’s base” she told you “I searched his mind while you were choking him, thanks by the way” she said “It’s time I put an end to the rebellion.”

Tagging: @cpt-bolter , @elvencantation , @jay-birf03 , @x-a-gay-disaster-x , @ridleysjazz , @hstoria , @iamafangirl-fightme , @leilei-draws , @hayley-the-comet , @snoot-snoot-toot , @1-800-depressedlesbian , @empresspalpatinee , @xgaygremlinx , @the-great-imagines-of-1812

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[sahidchettair]

THE INCIDENT

aka how Sahid became deaf

The digital clock stared at them with its blinking eyes, accusing them as they alternated between looking at the clock and the smoke stained ceiling of their trailer. They hadn’t gotten back till at least four am, and they figured they could get some sleep in before they would turn up at the high school cleaning out the place for the start of the winter break. 

Ten more minutes went by before Sahid gave up and dragged themselves out of bed, plopping on the coffee machine almost automatically as they set to work cleaning up the mess from the night before. Throwing empty bottles out, canning the cigarette buts, airing the room. 

They walked to the couch with their coffee and phone in hand, putting on some songs on Spotify, which they leeched from the neighbour. Their brain hurt, but that wasn’t anything new. On the table were flyers, they printed them themselves now, a hundred every week, handing them out at gas stations and hotels, hoping to get them as far as possible, making people in every town and city in America aware of Cassie. 

But deep down Sahid had started believing she was dead. They had stopped asking God to bring her home, the little shrine in the corner had been neglected. Religion simply didn’t fit with the situation anymore. Although there were times when they would pass the church and wish they were still welcome there. 

Halfway through finishing the coffee, Sahid went to make some food. There was half a pizza left, so they warmed that up. Texted Brandon, then tried to call him, but there was no response. They were supposed to meet up later that day, but Sahid knew what radio silence meant. Some days were better than others, some days he actually wanted to talk to them, most days however, Brandon seemed to think they were best avoided. Maybe he was right. 

They put on Oblivion again, by Grimes, a song that they could sing along to easily, helping them forget thinking, just paying attention to the lyrics. 

The oven beeped and Sahid took out the pizza out of the oven, looking at the vegan thing with disappointment. It tasted like shit in comparison, but at least a vegan diet was something they kept to. They did consider their body as a temple. 

Though looking over at the collection of alcohol bottles would suggest otherwise. 

Sitting back down on the couch, Sahid ate and sang along, constantly skipping back to Grimes, reaching back while their phone was on the charger. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Coming!” Sahid yelled, used to people coming around their trailer from around the neighbourhood. There were so many little chores that they had become good at, and which would earn them some extra cash. They put the pizza on the coffee table and their phone back on the charger, walking towards the door, nursing their chin and rubbing the muscles in their neck. 

When they opened the door it wasn’t the person they were expecting, or one of them. It was someone who Sahid avoided like the plague. They took a deep breath, shook their head, took a step back instinctively. 

“Phil,” Sahid said, swallowing. “What are you doing here? With… with your friends…” 

Their step-father took a step forward, one hand reaching out for Sahid’s shirt. Behind him were five older men that Sahid recognised from post-church dinners and family gatherings, though they did not remember any of their names. All of them carried guns. “Sahid,” he said, as always butchering the name with such perfection that even their mother had given up trying to correct him. “You will go with us.” 

Sahid took another step back, but their stepfather kept them in place, hurling them out of the door alongside him. 

“Check the trailer,” his stepfather ordered, pointing at two of the men. 

“What is this about?” Sahid asked, fighting against their stepfather. Two more hands grabbed them, the fabric of their shirt being pulled at from different sides, the feeling suffocating. 

“Where did you hide her?!” Phil demanded. 

Sahid knew what this was about. Phil was so focussed on seeing them as some kind of monster, that there was only one person who could’ve taken Cassie away, could’ve taken his little granddaughter. As payback, probably. Sahid didn’t have to hear those words being spoken aloud to understand the crazy ideas their stepfather could make up to justify every single bad word and bad action towards them. They had seriously started to doubt if Phil had ever been interested in raising another child. 

“I didn’t!” Sahid sneered back, resulting in their stepfather throwing them to the ground. They had never much recovered after being malnutritioned for over a year, falling shoulder first into the hard pavement like a sack of bones. 

“Check behind the house,” Phil ordered, bending down to try and pick Sahid up.

But fear gripped them before their stepfather did. They crawled away from the hand, towards the treeline. The forest behind their trailer was enormous, if they wanted to get away- 

Sahid crawled back to their feet and started running, hearing shouts behind them, they jumped over branches, the ground slowly going down towards a little creek that ran into the valley. They looked behind several times, the men still at their heels, but they were gaining ground on them. If they made it to the creek, they could run upwards back towards town… and then what?

Going to the police had stopped being an option years ago, the church was off limits for them… corner store it was. 

They could hear running water! Just a few more steps and they would be heading to safety. Only that wasn’t what time had in store for them, the creek appeared but Sahid was running too fast, the stones were slippery. Sahid fell face first to the ground - again. 

Their chest hurt, their lungs burned, Sahid rolled over, clutching their stomach, tasting blood in their mouth. Reaching one hand up, they felt blood dripping from somewhere above their hairline and their nose hurt with the slightest touch. But hopefully they had managed to get away from their step-father. 

They passed out before they could hear the footsteps running towards them. 

----

Sahid gasped for breath, their lungs still burning. They started coughing after but one raspy breath, leaning forward, surprised to look directly at the ground, their body in a completely different position than they were when they passed out. 

They coughed again, stretching their back to get more air in, finding multiple things wrong as they became more aware of their situation. They were crouched on the ground, their hands bound behind their back, one eye didn’t open, as if the eyelids were stuck together. 

A hand was placed on their shoulder, then a face appeared in front of them, but their vision was hazy, they didn’t recognise who it was. But given the situation, they didn’t need to see to know. Something cold touched their ear, and they tried to shake their head to move away from it, but the hand pushed them back against it. 

“Where is she?” 

“I didn’t take her,” Sahid managed to blurt out. 

“Did you bury her somewhere here? Are you trying to destroy the evidence!”

“I didn’t-”

Their vision was less hazy now, and they shut up once it became clear that the cold steel was the head of Phil’s cut off shot-gun. He held it to their face, a crazed look in his eyes. Sahid tried to move their head back, but the hand held them in place. 

“Best you tell us now, you don’t want to end up feeling my wrath, now?” 

Sahid breathed with difficulty, shaking their head. “I-”

They became aware of the people behind their stepfather, the same five men he had dragged along with him to the trailer, all armed, all staring at them with murderous eyes. They wondered what mess they could expect in their trailer when they returned…

… if they ever would. 

“Out with it, boy!” Phil screamed, hitting Sahid in the head with the gun, shaking them violently. “Where is she!”

“I don’t know!” Sahid yelled in return, pressing their eyes closed, feeling tears well up. 

“Liar!” 

The kick in their stomach came out of nowhere, but at least it took the gun away from their face, made them feel safe for a few moments. Until their stepfather dragged them to their feet again. They could hear some shouts from the men behind him, telling their stepfather to stop, but they weren’t sure what they wanted to stop. 

A sound so violent and close ripped through their ear, the gun having been fired next to the left side of their head. They were let go and fell to the ground again, screaming as the pain started to ring through their head, a ringing that scared them. They felt numb to almost everything else, being picked up seemed to be happening to a completely different person. 

Their stepfather’s face appeared again, the gun still in his head. They couldn’t hear what he was yelling, but they could guess the words. Someone reached for Phil, tried to draw his hand back, but Phil would not let him, pointing the gun in Sahid’s face again, hatred in his eyes. 

They didn’t hear the second shot, all that happened was that the ringing got even worse as the gun was fired next to their other ear. It was clear that it had been intentional. Perhaps he had been aiming for more, but he wanted to hurt Sahid, not kill them. Or so they hoped, falling backwards, unable to reach up to their ears, despite how much their hands were itching to place them over the ears and hope to get rid of the ringing. 

The pain had them crying out, screaming, screaming because they couldn’t hear themselves scream. The pain blurted through their head, through their body, everything seemed to be pain. 

Someone cut the bonds around their hands, and the freeing of movement made them able to witther, squirm, and finally get their arms up. They pushed their knees to their chest, hands covering their ears, but it did nothing to force the ringing to stop. They had stopped screaming, but the pain still made them cry loudly. They were shaking, everything hurt. 

----

Sahid wasn’t sure how long they had been laying there, they were cold and in pain, constantly in pain. But the ringing was starting to numb them. They had to power through this, they couldn’t stay here.

With difficulty they sat up, their stepfather was gone, so were the other men, so was any evidence of them having been there.

Using a tree to stabilize them, Sahid got to their feet. They felt queasy, their stomach in pain, dizziness, and no sense of up and down. The first ten meters at least, Sahid could take only two steps before falling back to the ground, uncertain of what was up and down, left and right, everything was constantly spinning. 

The second ten meters Sahid could go a little longer before falling back down, but managing to stay on their knees this time. 

It was dark by the time they made it to their trailer. At least they had managed to find the door, glad for the light on the porch that was always on. They had missed their shift, they found a few pieces of paper on the doorstep from concerned neighbours, but nobody had come to find them. 

Turning on the light inside, the first thing Sahid saw was what they had been afraid of. Everything was a mess. The couch was turned and most of the furniture had been send flying. Even the carpet had been ripped on the edges, revealing the floorboards underneath. 

Their phone was on the floor near the door, screen cracked, but charged. They lay down beside it, exhausted from the walk back home. There were several missed calls. Most notably two from Brandon. 

Calling him would be useless, but Sahid knew they needed help. They needed to go to the hospital. The ringing was still happening, quieter now, but it was all they heard. They didn’t hear their own breathing, didn’t notice the sound of their footsteps, nor the whistling of the wind. 

They returned the call, waiting for an indication on the screen that Brandon had picked up. As soon as that happened, Sahid started talking. Talking without hearing themselves speak, talking without knowing what Brandon would say in return. Talking and hoping that their stepbrother would get a car, would get a car and come to get them. Hoping that despite everything, he would once again come to their aid. 

“Brandon, something happened…. I need your help. I can’t hear, I can’t hear nothing but ringing. My stomach hurts, my legs hurt, my head hurts. I don’t-I don’t feel good. I need you to come get me. Please, please Brandon. I know I’m a-”

The call had ended. They were back in the menu that showed them recent calls. 

Sahid rested their head on the carpet, tears in their eyes. They were certain they couldn’t possibly sleep with the ringing. But eventually exhaustion did overtake them. 

It must’ve been about twenty minutes later when someone came through the empty door and grabbed them by their shoulders. They knew it was Brandon, he always touched them so lightly, as if they were made from glass.

The car smelled like alcohol, but the backseat was softer than their carpet. 

The second person to usher them out of the car was less sensitive, forcing them into a wheelchair, then riding them into the hospital.

They were aware of it all only by what penetrated their hazy gaze, glad for the help, but too tired and in pain to respond to any of it. They fell in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. When they woke up again to hands touching them, it was light outside again. 

Someone pressed along their ribs, noting the skin colour as she went. She looked up, checking their eyes, their nose, chin, and then lastly their ears. There was nobody else in the room. No sign of Brandon. 

She got a notepad and a pen, writing down something before turning it to Sahid. 

What do you hear?

“Ringing,” Sahid answered, not able to hear themselves speak, but certain they were doing so when she started writing again. 

What else hurts?

Sahid pointed at their right leg. 

She put the pad down and cut away the jeans to reveal some bruises. The nurse turned back to them, getting a cloth and cleaning their face softly. Her face showed pity, but she said nothing, nor did she write anything down until she was satisfied with her work. 

The doctor will be here soon, you will be okay. 

She offered a smile before turning to leave, but she stopped, turned back, and checked her pockets. She produced a small bottle of pills, painkillers, they were familiar enough with them. She gave them two and a glass of water before leaving for real. 

----

Sahid could see from the clock on the wall that it was two hours later before the doctor the nurse had mentioned came in, holding a pad and studying her patient with a sigh. She checked their vitals, studied the bruises the nurse had already patted down, and then lightly touched both their ears. Some tests followed, most done without letting them know anything. Though the doctor did write a few things down for them to read. 

She eventually gave them a look of pity and wrote down a quick sentence for them to read. 

I can’t do anything to mend the damage, surgery will have a twenty percent chance of being successful. 

She mouthed ‘I am sorry’, and left the room again, but not before making sure the ringing sound was less than it had been when the nurse saw to them, and left another painkiller. 

They knew they didn’t have the money to pay for surgery, and if the chance really was as small as the doctor told them… then what was the point. 

----

They had to stay in the hospital for two days. Only Nadia came by to check on them, staying at their side as the doctor tried several hearing devices hoping they would do anything for them. She eventually told them to keep one, it was a good reminder to other people that they had lost their hearing. 

Nobody asked them how it had happened. How any of it had happened. 

Sahid wasn’t going to tell anyone either. 

They walked all the way back to their trailer on the third day after losing their hearing. Brandon rejected their calls, Nadia wasn’t picking up. They were afraid to ask anyone else. 

It was a four hour walk. 

It felt much longer.

[huntertales]

Part Four: All I Got Is All I Need. (Devil May Care S09E02)

Episode Summary: In the aftermath of the fall, Sam and the reader are taken by surprise when they learn Crowley is still alive–and stuffed in the trunk of the Impala. A temporary situation before the reader and the Winchesters relocate him to the Men of Letters dungeon. Kevin is anything but enthusiastic about seeing the king of hell under the same roof as him. However the three hunters want the demon close, hoping Crowley will provide useful information about others of his kind. Meanwhile, Abaddon re-emerges and plans to take over hell. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,406.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Heading back to the bunker after a long hunt like the one you and the boys had endured over the past few days was always a good feeling after dealing with all the stress you were put under. Dean made sure to drop Tracy off somewhere safe so she could continue hunting on her own. She left knowing a little more about how to slow down a demon if they tried to rear their ugly head in her direction, and maybe even a bit more at peace with herself from the things in her past that lead her here. You and the boys decided to celebrate the victory against the knight of hell by grabbing some dinner along the way home, and some prune juice for Kevin. Dean mentioned the reason why, but you stopped him before he could go into further detail about the kid's bathroom issues. You were worried about his well being, yet there were some things that didn’t personally need to know about the kid. 

You called out Kevin's name when you hit the bottom step of the staircase and looked around the place to see if you might be able to spot him anywhere. You guessed he was working on translating the tablet as some sort of distraction to keep himself busy from the added stress he was under. Having to be under the same roof as the demon who personally tortured him and destroyed his life was a heavy burden you didn't want to force on the kid, but you didn't have much of a choice. You found yourself stopping in your tracks after taking a look into the library to see that it was empty. You tried shouting Kevin’s name one more time when you noticed there was nobody here except for the three of you. All you got in return was silence. You and the boys exchanged a worried look before you bolted for the dungeon. 

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach when you noticed the makeshift shelf that hid away Crowley was slightly ajared despite the door being closed shut. You turned on the lights and headed inside to somehow see if Crowley made his great escape. However what you saw waiting for you didn't ease your worried mind. Crowley sat in the chair as you left him, handcuffed and no evidence of any sort of attempt to him escaping. However you noticed he was beaten and bloody, like someone had personally taken out their aggression against him. The demon seemed to be unbothered by his new wounds. 

“Who worked you over?” Dean asked the demon. 

“Martin Hayward and Brandon Favors.” Crowley replied with a set of names you’d never heard of before. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion.

“They did this to you?” Sam guessed. 

“No. They’re demons. You asked for names, I’m giving you names.” Crowley said. You and the boys were taken aback from the piece of information he was willingly giving you without a fuss. “They're underperformers. Spike them, you’re doing me a favor.” 

“Wow.” Dean scoffed at the demon’s cooperation. “You break easy.” 

“Please. Your little plan to have me stew in my own...delicious juices—pathetic. You want intel. I want things, too.” Crowley said. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow slightly from his negotiations he was trying to make with you. “Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. Quid pro quo, lady and gentlemen.”

“So, these are what, then? Freebies?” You wondered. “Because you’re not the generous type.”

“You’re right. I’m not at all.” Crowley agreed with you on that point. “You can consider them a fair trade for the enjoyment Kevin gave me.”

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest at the mention of the prophet’s name coming out of the demon’s mouth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s my new favorite toy.” He said. “Wind him up, watch him go.” 

Dean let out a frustrated sigh from hearing the advice he gave to Kevin turn out to be nothing more than wasted breath on his part. Crowley did nothing more than lean back in his seat and smile at the added trauma he added to the kid he loved messing with. Kevin had already been teetering on the edge from all the stress he had endured over the past year. Whatever the demon said to get under the kid's skin might have pushed him over the edge to the point of no return. “Check on the names.” Dean instructed you and his brother. “I’ll go find the kid.” 

You turned your attention back over to the demon when you saw Dean make his way out of the dungeon and back out into the hall to see if he might be able to find Kevin before it was too late. The memory of Crowley in the church crossed your mind. You remembered seeing a human side to Crowley, someone who confessed about wanting to be loved. Who was willing to confess his greatest sins for a chance at being something he hadn't been in a few centuries. What you saw now was the same arrogant, power hungry demon who got off on trying to break people from the inside out. You shook your head slightly from the way his lips dragged further into a smirk and left him in the dungeon with the only company to occupy him was himself. 

Dean managed to make it back up to the main level of the bunker just in time to see the kid he had been searching for, who was trying to make his escape with a backpack of his stuff hanging off his shoulder. There was no way in hell the prophet was going step outside that door. “Where do you think you’re going?” Dean called out to the younger man. Kevin barely glanced in the older Winchester’s direction as he made his way to the staircase. Dean quickly reached out and grabbed the handle to Kevin’s backpack, stopping the kid from going anywhere. “Hey, hey, hey! Whoa, whoa. Talk to me.” 

“You can’t keep me locked in here.” Kevin stated. “I’m leaving.” 

“Like hell.” Dean argued with the kid about his plans. His tone of voice was full of frustration and aggravation from how careless Kevin was acting in the moment. “Man, we told you not to talk to Crowley, okay? He messes with your head.” 

“He said my mom’s alive.” Kevin confessed something the demon told him while he was doing his form of payback. “Crowley said if I let him go, he’d give her back to me.”

Dean couldn’t help himself but scoff at the blatant sounding lie. “And you believed him?”

“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” Kevin questioned the man. 

The older man fell silent for a few seconds before responding, "Crowley's lying." 

“And if he’s not?” Kevin asked him. 

“Well...if she is alive, then she’s dead. In every way that matters, she’s dead, Kevin. I’m sorry.” Dean hated the fact that he had to tell Kevin of another possibility that would make him want to have his mother be dead than having her still breathing and living some kind of torture Crowley cooked up. It was so easy to run from this lifestyle and hold out for that little piece of hope that things might be okay. You fight just to have a chance of something that reminds you of a normal life. Something that makes you feel secure, safe. Dean had been in that position not too long ago. And it never goes the way you want. “I know you’re dying to bolt, man. I get it. But out that door, it’s demons and it’s angels, and they would all love to get their hands on a prophet, so even with Crowley here, this is still the safest place for you. It just is. And we need you, man.” 

“‘Cause I’m useful.” Kevin muttered.

“Because you’re family.” Dean stated the real reason why he wanted him to stay. “After all the crap we’ve been through, after all the good that you’ve done...man, if you don’t think that we would die for you...I don’t know what to tell you. Because you, me, Sam, Cas and Y/N—we are all that we’ve got.” Things might not have been clear enough for the kid to understand where he stood with the four of you, but Dean was going to tell him flat out for the first and final time. “But, hey, if none of that matters to you, then I won’t stop you. Just say goodbye to Sammy and Y/N on your way out. Sure they’re not gonna be heartbroken on your decision. We've already lost one family member, why not one more?"

Dean only realized until the words that came out of his mouth how it might have been a low blow. He didn't want Kevin to leave. He couldn't stomach the idea of something happening to him. Every part of the kid wanted to step outside that door and run away from the people that hadn't abandoned him. Not when he ran around the country, not when he refused to be a part of this lifestyle. They kept pushing, because that's what family does. Kevin slid off the backpack from his shoulder, letting the strap hang low in his hand out of a sign of defeat. Sometimes family is three hunters and an angel. It’s not perfect, but it was all Kevin had. 

Kevin promised to unpack his things in the morning and settle himself into the bunker for a more permanent stay. He grabbed the bottle of prune juice and headed back for a restful night's sleep he had been fighting off for the past several days. Dean felt a little more at ease knowing the kid was going to be somewhat all right. He took the chance to shrug off his jacket and find where you and his brother wandered off too. It was no surprise when he spotted you working diligently in the library with a book open and a pad of paper next you. You scribbled something down before you skimmed the pages of the book, the pen tapping  against the paper. 

“Kevin’s passed out in one of the back rooms. He’s a tough kid. He’ll bounce back.” Dean said, giving up an update on the kid after the scare he put you all through. Dean poured himself a drink out of the fancy glassware that kept the more expensive liquor he enjoyed on occasion with his brother. He made sure to get you one now that you could drink. He glanced up when he noticed you replied with a silent nod. “What’s up with you?” 

“I love you. You know that, right?” Dean smiled slightly at the sudden randomness of your answer to his question and how serious you sounded when you uttered the three words that made his heart beat a little faster. He grabbed the glasses and made his way over to where you were sitting and placed it in front of you. When he saw you staring up at him with a no nonsense kind of expression, almost as if you were making sure of it. He felt his smile slowly falter. "I don't know if I say it too much. Or not enough. I just want to let you know I do. I always have. And I always will." 

"I know, sweetheart. I love you, too." Dean said. He dropped himself into the chair across from you and leaned back in his seat, wondering what had gotten into you to act like this. You looked like you were on the sudden verge of tears, but you were doing everything not to lose it just yet. Dean gestured with an arm for you to come over to him, you got up from your seat and made your way over to his awaiting lap. You wanted to be near him. To feel his embrace around your body. You leaned your head into the crook of his neck and shut your eyes when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

"It's just...I've been thinking about what Tracy said about me—she's not wrong." You whispered your confession to him about how you were feeling at the moment. Maybe it was how you felt ever since you heard the news a few days ago. You could only bury it for so long before it came rising back to the surface with a vengeance. "I've done things that I regret. I hurt people...people who I was supposed to protect." 

"Hey, look at me." Dean forced you to sit up straight and look at him in the eye, wanting you to hear the truth about the matter. "You have helped a hell of a lot more people than you have hurt. So all of that—that was then. Okay? But I know that's not what's really bothering you. Tell me the truth." Dean reached up and softly brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. You hated how he could read you so well. You let out a sigh. “Are you...doing okay?” 

“I don’t know. I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders from the answer you gave him. If you were being honest, you weren't sure exactly what the proper answer was. “How are you supposed to feel after everything that happened?”

“Whatever you want.” Dean said. “There’s no wrong or right way to handle this.” 

“I...I’m sorry for what happened.” You apologized to him. Dean’s expression softened from the way your tone shifted into a more quieter pitch and how your eyes darted away from him before they would make contact again with his. You let out a frustrated sigh when you felt yourself becoming overwhelmed with your emotions as you turned your head completely away from him. You tried your hardest to fight off the tears that were threatening to fall. He felt his heart drop slightly from the way your voice sounded. It was the same kind of way when you found out the truth if you kept going with the trials. All the things you let yourself believe over the past few months. “If I knew...If I could stop it...It’s all my fault.” 

“Hey.” You slowly turned your gaze back to him and stared into his eyes as he brushed away the few tears that managed to slip out. You looked exactly like how you had when you were given the reality of the situation. So tired, so defeated. There was no amount of lying that he could do to stop you from feeling these kinds of emotions. You had a right to grieve, the both of you did together. “You didn’t know. How could you? This isn’t your fault.” You rolled your eyes and tried to get away from him, but he was quick to keep you pinned down on his lap. He wasn’t finished speaking the truth you needed to hear. “You’re still the woman I love. Nothing will ever change that. And I would never look at you any differently because of this. It breaks my heart thinking that you do.”

“But why do I feel so guilty over it? I mean, I was only six weeks. I know women lose babies way later. Women who want children. We didn’t plan on having one, and let’s be real...I really didn’t want one. But I still feel sad because I lost them. And for some reason it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I was robbed from that chance. I don’t know why.” You confessed to him. “And I feel so bad for you. I mean, this was yours as it was mine…” 

“I’m sad. I’ll be honest. When you were in the hospital recovering for those two days, I had some time to think about everything. What would life be like if we did have a kid and all that.” Dean said. “I mean, I tried being a father once or twice. Never worked out in my favor.”

“Sammy turned out okay.” You said, jumping to the man’s defense. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders at your example. “He can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” The joke made the slightest smile spread across your lips, but it didn’t last long as he’d hoped for. 

“There’s also another part of me that keeps thinking...could we really be parents? I mean, do you think it would be a good idea to bring a baby into this world with everything going on right now?” You wondered. “The fallen angels. Abaddon. Cas losing his halo. The king of hell in our basement?” 

“It’s not all bad.” Dean said, trying to look on the brighter side of things. “We’ve got a roof over our heads. Enough knowledge between the both of us to keep the kid alive and not totally screw it up. You would stay at home while I went out saving the world with Sammy. Cas could babysit every once in a while. It could be like our very own messed up sitcom.” 

"Right. I could be the next June Cleaver." You felt a smile tugging at the ends of your lips at the thought of you staying at home with a newborn while Dean went out on hunts with his brother. But it disappeared quickly as it came. "It's a nice thought. But…”

“But, what?” Dean asked. 

“It’s gonna be tough before things get back to our kind of normal. I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ve got family and friends who care for me. A prophet who is practically like raising a child full time just trying to keep him happy. It’s gonna be tough. And having to come  to the realization that getting married and having a kid...it’s just a thought. That’s what it’s always gonna be.” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing quietly to yourself about something you thought was going to be your future just a week ago. Now you brushed it off like it was a joke, a situation that you were okay about never being able to achieve. “For the first time in a very long time...the future doesn’t look bleak anymore. Things are gonna be okay. Eventually. But I can deal with that.”

Dean felt his heart sink deeper into his chest at your words and how casual they sounded. Once upon a time you were over the moon about the future you were making for you and him. He remembered the conversation you had with him about wanting a family. The night you found out he had a child of his own and how it all turned out when you were supposedly dead. It was also the night you convinced your own baby. For those six months you thought you were going to have it all; shutting the gates of hell, you and him getting hitched, having a baby. Now all of it was meaningless. Your perspective changed on what you wanted out of life. You were wearing rose tinted glasses to the world around you and the damage done without even realizing it. 

You thought you were given a second chance at doing things right when plans to shut the gates of hell went belly up. The pregnancy you had was barely starting, not enough for one to grieve for long. Angels falling from the sky. Cas human as the three of you. A knight of hell doing who knows what. But for Dean, that wasn’t the worst of it. You didn’t know the truth. About how far along you really were, the angel hitching a ride in your skin that was healing your internal organs and sprucing himself up. To you, everything would slowly go back to the way it was. 

Dean leaned back in his seat when you got up from his lap and made your way back over to your own chair to get back to work. He took another sip of his drink and wondered how the hell he got himself into this situation. A part of him was starting to wonder if it was a good thing you were starting to think like him. Did he rob you from ever wanting to have that chance again if things ever settled down enough for you to propose the question of having a family? Despite knowing the truth about how it would turn out in the end, Dean still wanted to have that comfort. The possibility if things changed. Maybe somewhere in another dimension you could have that family. But in this life, it was never going to happen. And he had to be okay with that. 

[Next Part]

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[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 4 Part 8

I’m a little late, but here it is!

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey Monday April 15

The fucker was flipping through his book. The meeting was in fifteen minutes. I don't fucking know why I came early. The Dean's grandson glared at Brandon. He was the only absent at their previous get-together. Could he be the contemptible asshole who had the idea of the bounty ?

"I'm not." said suddenly the idiot.

"What the fuck ?"

"Regarding what you're thinking. I'm not the one who had a price put on the prey." explained Brandon. "You know I'm a devoted follower of D.R... I even helped to foil my roommate Barbara."

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey snorted. It didn't mean anything except maybe that he was a smart ass. The fact you're using your brain make you more dangerous than the others.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Stop acting like if you can read my fucking thoughts you moron."

Brandon dared to smile. Jesus he was so annoying.

"I'm sorry. You're usually way more difficult to decipher. But this story seems to bother you."

It's my damn boyfriend we're talking about, stupid ! Yeah except no one knew. The junior remembered his last discussion with Zack. His friend had called him a coward. A coward. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey, the gifted hunter, feared by all, had been called a coward. Zack didn't intend to be mean but ouch. I would feel much better if the cocksucker behind all this was arrested.

"Now that I think about it." mumbled the blond lad. "You are a supposed psychic so you must know something, right ?"

"Yeah. I know I'm innocent." replied the smart aleck.

I swear to god I'll kill him.

"More seriously." he continued when he noticed the Dean's grandson glaring at him. "I got things to tell but we'll have to wait for the others. D.R wants to update them aswell."

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey grunted.

Archie, Theo and Gabriel arrived right on time. As for this arrogant Matthew and the girls, they all came late. On purpose of course. They want to piss me off. Such a flock of donkeys. Finally, when Samy deigned show up, the meeting officially began.

"Why are we here ?" asked Lucy. "Summer didn't say much but I don't have time to lose. Fallen King, I hope this is serious."

Damn. When did you start shitting by the mouth dickhead ? He remained silent only because Brandon had taken his phone out.

"It's me who summoned you." resonated D.R's voice. "Sorry if we are taking your precious time Lucy. Maybe you want to leave and give up all your privilege as a member of this assembly ?"

The idiot bitch shrivelled up on her chair. Pathetic.

"Get to the point." Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey intervened. "Why are we here ?"

"Because, Brandon and I have made some progress regarding the investigation about the pranktser who is defying our authority." she explained. "First of all, I will let you all know that we get to the root of his website. Much to our surprise, he's based in Canada."

"So it's a stranger ?" was surprised Gabriel. "But how does he know about the prey ? Even I didn't hear about him before all this fuss."

Let her speak. I want a name. Going to Canada to kill someone sounded worse than it actually was, right ?

"We are sure he has an accomplice at the university." carried on D.R. "Probably the mastermind behind all this to be honest. Besides, with some skills, it might be possible to manage a website from Canada while being actually here. That's not the only thing we went through. My team caught some hunters who spied on the prey and sold intel at our prankster, who then put them online."

What ?! Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was sure he didn't have enough bullets to shot every little fucker who did that. Damnit ! He had been the most careful he could and still, they escaped his surveillance ? And why D.R didn't told him sooner ?!

"Don't be mad." teased Jolenne. "We just got all the infos you spent month to get in a few days. Poor fallen king."

The Dean's grandson almost lost his calm. He was feeling paranoid and irritated. But he didn't need Zack calling him a brute as well as a coward.

"Unecessary comments are not permitted." said codly D.R. "Until now, what has been revealed to the public are mostly practical intels. The prey's greediness when it come to food is emphasized by many people. Also, there are his supposed sexual preference, his work and college schedule and when it is possible to meet him without Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey around. Even his friends are not safe from this search of information. I hope you realize this is craziness."

"Don't worry, we're chasing him by following your rules." giggled Miranda. "We don't need all this shit to catch him."

"Do you have any idea about the identity of the prankster ?" asked Archie.

"Well, thanks to the hunters we arrested, maybe." the head of the hunter announced, making them all quiet. "Brandon."

"As you may know, since my arrival here, D.R usually resort to me when she wants to question people. Here's what I discovered." the guy revealed. "They all received the money the day following their exchange via transfer. What is interesting is the bank making those transfers... The Mason's Financial."

Silent followed. Everyone looked up at Samy. She was called Samy Mason for a reason after all. The name is common but I know for sure she's the daughter of the actual ceo of Mason's Financial.

"My family's banks has numerous clients." she said, seemingly bored. "And this little information doesn't prove anything."

She's right. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was much more calmer now. And Samy was right. She had the means but that didn't make her guilty. This link wasn't much more than coincidence at this point.

"We'll do further investigation of course." resumed D.R. "Samy, you'll have to pay me a visit at my office very soon. As for the others, you can hunt, you can catch, but always remember there are rules. You have to insure that the others hunters respect them aswell. Is that clear ?"

They all agreed. Of course. But how many of them are cheating behind our back uh ? Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey left the room as soon as the meeting ended. At least he learnt something tonight. Nancy will have some work to do.

The Dean's grandson headed towards his flat quickly. He checked his phone on the way home. One text was from the head of the women defense club. Even outside the get-together, she couldn't let him in peace ? How annoying.

< D.R. : About our other matter, I expect the victim you told me about to pay me a visit soon. >

Of course you do. She was worried. Well he was worried too but he wasn't blowing a fuse about it. Archie seemed fine until now, so what was the problem ? Anyway, he also had a text from his boyfriend.

< The baboon : I'm stuffed !!! uwu >

A picture was attached to it. It was a selfie of Liam from underneath, which drew attention to his belly. His bloated tummy. Well Damian also noticed the tightness of his brief, since it was the only clothes he decided to wear. I hate him so much. Since when is he such a tease ?! At first, these little... provocations looked innocent. A comment about Liam being bottom when stuffed. An invite to touch his butt. The blond lad had thought it wasn't done on purpose. But when the action became repeated, it become obvious that the baboon was way more naughty than he let think. It didn't help that the junior was fantasizing about his boyfriend more and more... He'll be the death of me one day.

Liam Wednesday April 17

The College's library was a dark and secret place Liam had feared since his arrival. Books could harm you kids, no joke. He had yet to find the magical section but he knew it was here, somewhere. Thankfully he was in the history section and not alone. The chestnut lad was looking for a title Nate asked. Apparently, reading helped his bestfriend to distract his mind from any bad thought. I will bring it to him tonight.

"I can't find it anywhere." grumbled Nick. "Are you sure they have it ?"

"Yes." assured Colton. "I checked the website twice already."

It was the fourth time they had this discussion in the last half an hour. Since Nick had decided to follow a diet, he was grumpy most of the time. Probably because the unicorns think it's bad for him. They know more than we do. Colton, as the teddy-bear he was, had the patience to deal with their sullen friend. Liam glimpsed the book they were looking for.

"Found it." he announced. "Let me borrow it and we can go."

The three boys headed towards the exit. And there she was. Of course she would be there : library were suitable for dark ritual so the forces of evil were most likely bound to appear here. The witch was with another girl he didn't recognise right away. Because the lad had friends to protect, he decided to face them. Oh. This is the girl who offered her body to me. So she switched side ? This is bad. He didn't need a demon on top of his problems.

"Hey." smiled the witch when they were close enough.

Liam tried to ignore her and focused on the librarian who was registering his borrowing. Without success apparently.

"I'm Lucy remember ? And this is Miranda. We want to know you three better boys. Do you want a little meeting with us girls outside the university this weekend ?" suggested the pawn of evil. "We can bring a friend along to be even."

Nick pulled a face. Colton smiled prudently. They're falling for her charms... Liam hesitated. On one hand, it was dangerous, and his boyfriend had vigorously asked him to stay away from her. But on the other hand, it was the perfect opportunity to face her once and for all.

"I'm not against it." he eventually replied. "If the others are fine with it too..."

His two friends exchanged perplexed glances. Finally, they agreed and the three boys were free to go.

When they arrived at their place, Liam noticed Dami waiting for him at the entrance. His boyfriend was texting aggressively. He looks angry. More than usual. The others greeted him and went upstair while the chestnut lad smiled. In all honesty, he didn't know what he was doing with Dami. He was well aware their relationship was slowly improving for the better. There was no doubt in his dreamy mind that sex was near. He even had naughty thoughts of Dami while he... had been taking personnal pleasure last time.

"What the hell did you just say ?" asked the junior.

Liam blinked. Did I think out loud ? That would be very embarassing.

"Hum forget it." he muttered. "I've something to tell you."

He related his encounter with the witch and the human sacrifice. He also carefully explained why he wanted to face her. It was important to be clear because Dami was a hero. Hero didn't like when their relatives and friends faced troubles and they had a tendency to take all the blame. Liam knew that, he read it somewhere. But he had a mission from the unicorn.

"I think this is one of your dumbest idea you baboon." declared his boyfriend once he concluded. "The damn horses don't know everything and... Whatever do your thing. I'm not protecting you anyway."

"Thanks you for trusting me." smiled the freshman.

He kissed Dami lenghtily to express his gratefulness. Two hands grabbed his ass and pushed his waist closer. Liam gulped when he felt his crotch react at the gesture. They stayed like this only a few minutes but it was enough to make them both blush awkwardly. It's hot in here right ? (Please unicorns, believe it.) (The magical creatures probably won't like his perveted thoughts tonight...)

"I need to go." whispered Dami. "See you tomorow baboon."

It was almost bedtime when Nate announced he wanted to see a shrink. According to him, it was Dami who suggested the idea.

"He told me she was a professional who could help." he explained. "And Archie sees her too so I guess she knows her job. But I would like you to come with me the first time... Is that ok ?"

"Of course bro." assured Liam.

He could feel the positive energy in the room. His bestfriend was trying. I'll support him the best I can. Nate slipped under his covers, letting only his head visible.

"Say, how did you know you were attracted by men ?"

The chestnut lad made a weird sound. That wasn't a question he had expected at all. They had already talked about that in the past but... He discreetly looked at the unicorns. Were they doing something to Nate ?

"Stop your mental chat with the magical poneys and answer me." ordered Nate.

"Oh sorry... Well I don't really know ?" he said. "As you remember, I was first into chubby girls but well... I don't know it felt nice to be with Kilian. Being in a relationship with another boy is great to me... As long as I love him right ?"

"This doesn't help." grumbled his bestfriend. "I'll try to be more specific : why is Dami attractive to you ? Physically ?"

"He's cute." giggled Liam, remembering their last encounter. "And well, kind of sweet. He's a nice skin. Oh and his eyes are scary, I like that. Why are you asking ?"

"I think I like Archie's hugs." Nate revealed. "But that doesn't mean anything. I'm just touch starved and he feels safe that's it. I'm overthinking little things. Good night."

He covered his head, meaning the conversation was over. And Liam fell asleep the next second. He had unicorns to feed after all.

Nicolas Friday April 19

< Imagenius : Dang ! We lost but that was a close one. >

Nick grunted. Annoying.

< TheSavior : Still a lose. >

< Abeautifulwoman : speaking in terms of statistics, we're in a losing streak. Boss you're the one who made the most mistakes in our last games... While you were the best one week ago. >

Nick ground his teeth. Annoying. They piss me off.

< Abeautifulwoman : Anything on your mind lately ? >

< TheSavior : I 'm on a diet. >

The lad had never expected it to be so hard. How could he focus on his game while all he could nibble was a salad ?! And damnit he missed beer. But I need to lose the weight. Not only four or five pounds, but fifty. Enough to not be disgusting again.

< Imagenius : change of subject but Beauty I think I know who is your bossy friend ! >

< Abeautifulwoman : Are you serious rn ? Just let him be and focus on the bad mood of our boss. >

< Imagenius : He's the most famous hunter in my college right ? The one who has sex with everyone whenever he wants. He's the great son of the Dean that lucky bastard lol >

Wait. What ? Nick re read the text but there was no mistake. A Dean's grandson who sleep around ? The bounty hunt and the very famous prey... Could it be happening here ? It was only his imagination for sure. There could be many great son of a Dean who were also part succubus. (Yes sometimes, Nick fell for Liam's crazy theory.)

< Abeautifulwoman : There is a reason why I'm not talking abut him here and it's called privacy bitch. >

< Imagenius : You're the fake bitch. What if you're working for the Smith Carrey ? I have friends who don't fear him you know ? >

*Abeautifulwoman is offline.*

< Imagenius : such a coward c**t lol >

*Imagenius is offline.*

Now there was no doubt possible.

This evening, Nick arrived at the pool his head full of question. Imagenius was a student here. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was the best of the hunters. And a mysterious hunt with a bounty interested everyone. Weird. This is so weird. Liam's boyfriend had always been shady but a hunter ? What does that even mean ? Nick caught sight of Colton near the pool. He sighed deeply. Whatever is going on, this is not my business. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey can do whatever he wants as long as he doesn't hurt my roommate. And I don't want to meet Imagenius in real life. Not when the freshman looked like a disgusting fat cow.

"Everything's fine bud ?" asked his friend.

"Yeah sorry. I guess I'm not feeling very confident about tomorrow."

This improvised date with three girls was another thing on his mind. Something I can talk with Colton. This latter smiled. His whole body irradiated a delicate but welcomed warmth. His attitude only was reasurring. And no, Nick didn't believe in magic but this guy had some strong positive vibe.

"This is not even a date." Colton recalled. "I think one of them is interested in Liam, and she asked help from her friends. You don't have to worry : we'll just enjoy the moment."

"Easy to say for you dude. You're handsome and incredibly nice." Nick retorted. "I'm not at the same level."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." assured his friend. "You made me think about my two bestfriends. They both have low self-esteem despite being amazing. I hope they finally realised it."

Nick detected distress in Colton's voice. For the first time, his expression revealed something esle than happiness. He looks almost sad.

"Now that you mention it, I never heard you talk about your past." noted the geek. "I mean, I don't have any friend from highschool since I was only focused on studies and you already know what I think about my annoying family but you... Even Liam's been more open."

Colton smiled but that was as fake as Rebecca's kindness.

"Stuff happenned. When I decided to follow Barbara, the people I cared about didn't take it well." he explained. "Even my sister is still mad. She was right tho, I got dumped in the end."

"And despite that, you're so nice and all ? Dude you really are half teddy-bear aren't you ? In your place, I would never trust anyone again."

They started to warm-up while talking. Liam would arrive later to help with the swimming lesson.

"I hope my friends will forgive me one day." confessed Colton. "Especially these two... But that doesn't mean I will be dejected until then. I'm sure they don't want that from me."

"You're so positive about everything that's kind of impressive." grunted Nick. "I would like to borrow your optimism sometimes.... Is it because some people have it worst ?"

He was thinking about Nate. That was petty of him to complain about his weight when his friend got raped. I'm ridiculous.

"You're getting it wrong." refuted the other. "You've the right to not appreciate your body but it is important that it is you, and not the opinion of the others, who chose that. As for me, I don't complain only because there is nothing I can do for now but hope. So I'm hoping."

Yeah, seems legit. They went into the pool and Nick focused on his swimming. The rest could wait.

To be continued

Dami is hunting the hunters... It’s a big mess. Who to trust uh?

And now Liam’s trying to solve his problem on his own, what a bad idea! But who knows, maybe he’ll manage ;) Big revelations in the online chat of Nick! Now, he has more info than he should...

Some background info on Colton. I’m not sure they’re very useful for now, but still.

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 10

Beverly’s is an Irish gastropub about twenty minutes from his apartment and is decorated with flags, posters and paraphernalia from his homeland. One of the two owners is an English bloke called Dave and after he catches Curly’s accent, he and Jordan get a free drink each whilst they wait for their food in a booth.

Jordan’s watching him across the table, slouched back as he inspects him. He’s shrugged his jacket off and Curly’s not used to seeing him without it, but he looks good in his black hoody; a little oversized but entirely intentional, Curly guesses.

“I should probably know your name.”

He’s always been more unnerved by the question than the answer. In England, he’d have friends that still called him by his real name; the people he’d hang out with at lunchtime; the ones he’d walk home with or see outside school at birthday parties, at shit venues where booze wasn’t allowed and the DJ played Will Young and Blue. They called him by his real name because they heard him respond in registration, saw him with a hand-written name tag during the first week of year seven, heard teachers shout him in the corridor before he ever properly introduced himself. Those friends are secondary.

Sometimes, when these friends became closer, they’d slip the nickname into a conversation, say it with parentheses like they were feeling it out until it became natural. This usually didn’t happen until they spent time with him out of school, where he and Brandon would meet up with other friends. These friends took to ‘Curly’ instantly because he was able to introduce himself and they never knew any better.

Of course, Brandon fit into every category, the two having met at the ripe age of four years old before the nickname even came to be. In fact, Brandon thought of the nickname himself, said, “your hair is like a Curly Wurly," and decided it there and then.

Here though, almost nobody knows his real name (unless he told them, in which case they’d forget before it caught on anyway) and Curly likes to cling to that, rarely even humours people when they ask these days because, frankly, they don’t need to know. He likes to leave Elliot from Essex behind because he feels both sacred and unworthy at the same time. It feels like speaking his name exposes every inch of who he used to be and how much better and worse he was back then.

When people ask for his real name, he has to decide if Elliot is safe with them. More often than not, he isn’t.

After a pause, he says, “my name?” Because that’s all he can come up with, apparently.

The man hums.

“Curly.”

Jordan laughs, just once, but the smile lingers as he leans forward in his seat, invested now. “Your mom called you Curly? I don’t buy it.”

“No, my mates call me Curly. My mum mostly calls me daft.”

“So your birth name is ‘daft’.”

“Sounds shit in your accent,” he notes. “Curly’ll do.”

Jordan seems to stand down, leaning back again, but there’s still a saturated smirk on his lips. They’d been talking about where they came from (Curly, Essex and Jordan, New York - and of course it’s New York. He hears the accent loud and clear now. Wants to make a F.R.I.E.N.D.S joke but doesn’t want to be a cliche because he’s surely heard it before) and how they ended up where they are now.

Jordan was eerily passive when he’d said, “well, my mom’s a junkie,” while on the subject of why “New York’s not all it’s cracked up to be;

“The city wasn’t doin’ her any favours. She thought things would change here, but—” He’d shrugged. “—that was six years ago.”

The ‘but’ in the statement was potent. ‘But I knew better’, ‘but she was wrong’, ‘but I’m still waiting.’

Then he asked his own questions and it was clear that he was done talking about his past for the time being.

Curly thinks it’s only fair to share some of himself, too. Even if it’s just a stupidly tiny part of him that shouldn’t mean as much as it does these days.

“Elliot.” He clears his throat, his own name feeling alien. “Elliot Michael Clarke... I know it’s… Poncey.”

“Elliot Michael Clarke,” Jordan echoes almost instantly, a smile returning as he folds his arms over his chest, looking chuffed with himself. “No, I like it. It’s a good name.”

Curly never really had to think about whether or not he liked his name, because all the people that mattered never used it anyway.

Now though, he takes a long sip of ice water as he attempts to stay cool, nervous heat rising over his cheeks. Jordan clears his throat like he realises he’s embarrassed him and is searching for something else to say.

Before Jordan can muster up a transition, Curly asks, “how did I not know about this place?” He’s speaking around a chip now, his glass back on the table as he tries to act casual.

“You do now.” Jordan looks smug as ever, arms still crossed over his chest as if to say ‘it’s no big deal.’ “You like it? You just didn’t strike me as the ‘spaghetti and wine’ kinda guy, y’know?”

“Hey, I’m an all-alcohol kinda guy,” Curly defies as the two of them both reach for their respective drinks. “But yeah. You smashed it.”

“I smashed it,” Jordan nods, amused as he smiles against the rim of his glass. “Nice.”

Curls adds, “it actually feels like England, it’s mental,” as he looks around the room and tries to forget that the people around them are American, but there’s something about them that gives it away and he’s not quite sure what. He looks back to Jordan because it’s easier to pretend when it’s just the two of them. “It’s just a bit quiet, but I suppose my mates were the loudest part of any English pub anyway.”

“Yeah? You don’t seem like the type to be…”

“Rowdy? It’s in here somewhere,” he says. Curls supposes he’s teetered more towards reckless than rowdy now, but it doesn’t help that the drugs and the alcohol are suddenly a requirement for his sociability these days. His don’t alright now though, isn’t he?

Jordan chuckles. “You gotta tell me more about that.”

So he tells him about some of the daft shit he’d done back at home, including that one time Curly and Brandon had to get an eleven o’clock coach from Reading to Essex because they got kicked out of a festival for nicking two girls’ deck chairs to get comfy in the middle of The Pixies’ mosh pit. In turn, Jordan admits that “I always used to steal condiments from places like this. I’m not talking ketchup sachets, everyone does that, I’m talking salt and pepper shakers - ashtrays, too,” which Curly finds hilarious.

When Jordan goes to the bathroom, Curly’s sure to sneak a gift from the table into man’s jacket pocket.

“Tell me more dumb shit,” Jordan says when he returns, sliding back into the booth and leaning his arms on the table.

“Neh.” Curls chuckles, shakes his head. “Your turn. I want to know about the dumb shit you’ve done. You seem… Untouchable. It’s very obnoxious.”

They both laugh and Curly’s endlessly grateful for the fact that Jordan can read his wit. He’s not sure what it is about the people around here that makes them entirely oblivious to any jest he has in him. Saying that though, he’s not sure Jordan knows how to take things seriously even when they are, so, it makes sense.

Except then he says, “my dumb shit isn’t like your dumb shit. Your dumb shit is hallucinating and bad dancing; my dumb shit is gangs and knife fights. S’not really got the same charm.” And Curly laughs because he thinks Jordan’s just being dry, but he learned early on that when he’s got that subtle kind of smile on his face, it’s not an ‘I’m kidding’ thing, it’s an ‘I’m dead serious but I’m not that bothered’ thing.

“I can’t see you in a knife fight.” At least he doesn’t think he can.

“Good. Y’never will. That was before - a long time ago.”

Curls hums. “How long?”

“New York or the gang shit?” Jordan must see the second of confusion on Curly’s face because before he can answer, he goes on; “‘cause New York was… Forever ago. We left when I was… Sixteen, Maybe seventeen. The gang stuff is complicated. Not as serious as it sounds.” He shrugs. “I guess I figured Jeff and Dean ran their mouths already.”

“Nope.” He mirrors Jordan’s shrug. “Is complicated another word for indefinite?” It probably sounded accusing, but Jordan doesn’t falter.

He hums in thought - less about what to tell him and more about how to say it, Curls would bet by the way he pouts as he considers it with no effort to hide the fact. "It ain’t like it used to be. I mean— I’m not in a gang I just… I knew a guy who knew a guy -you know how it is- and they helped us out a lot when we moved out here. I felt like I owed a few favours, so I broke even and left, but—” a third shrug in the past thirty seconds— “shit gets personal. Brockton’s a small town.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Seems to me like you're in a similar situation,” Jordan says, and it should feel pressing but It doesn’t. Just casual and curious. “What’s his name again?”

Curly chuckles, fingertips wiping the condensation off the outside of his glass. “I don’t think so.” For some reason, he feels the urge to keep his eyes down on the glass. “We broke even a while ago.”

Jordan hums; doesn’t seem to feel the need to keep the conversation going as he sits on his response again. Curls braves a glance, but the guy’s stony expression is back and he can’t quite hold it.

Finally, Jordan says, “so why was it that you chose the centre of a mosh pit to make yourself at home?”

***

At some point along the line, Curly thinks he’d programmed himself to find parts of old friends in new encounters. He supposes that’s what got him through the transition in the end; seeing Brandon’s recklessness in Oscar and his brutality in Jules, or his rawness in the likes of Jeff where Dean showed his compassion. It wasn’t just Brandon; he saw his aunt in Emily when he worked at the shop, and saw the Mill girls in Lola’s friends (but not Lola; in her, he saw his sister’s curiosity and Sarah-from-Costa’s mousy features and humour) to list just a few more.

He’s not put his finger on Jordan just yet - hasn’t quite dug anyone out of him.

The way they talk is like no connection Curly’s ever had, and it’s not particularly romantic and he wouldn’t say it’s like they’ve always known each other or any of that shite (it’s not even stronger than some he had at home) but there’s something specific that he can’t place.

They finish up their meal and are back in Jordan’s car (which isn’t actually his car, but a friend’s) by half-past-nine, and have parked somewhere between the pub and Curly’s apartment. It’s an empty carpark of an old abandoned shop. Jordan stopped without even explaining it, but they’ve been talking for almost an hour and Curly’s not ready to finish, so he supposes the other man feels the same.

“It’s just like… Some people just grow up on a certain type of music and that’s it — in fact, I was like that for ages — but how shit is that?” Curly huffs before he answers his own question; “dead shit. So I started making these CDs in high school right? Sold them for a fiver each and got through about… fifty disks by the end of my last year and now I can’t stop.”

“So you’re hoarding mixtapes?” Jordan laughs.

He nods, can’t quite find it in him to feel embarrassed. “Got a playlist for every occasion, I have. People n’all”

“You’re funny,” he leans his temple against the headrest, sat sideways in the driver's seat where he’s been for the past sixty minutes - the last ten of which he’s spent mostly listening to Curly ramble on.

“Yeah? You can tell me to pipe down.”

“No, I like it. I’ve never met anybody that listened to both The Cure and Coldplay,” the man tells him. “But I guess I’ve never met a guy that wears black trench coats and orange nail polish, either.”

“You should try it. Might suit you.”

Jordan chuckles again. “I’m not sure I could pull it off quite like you. Jeff forced me into a pink shirt once and Dean barely recognised me; said I’d been black-and-white since high school; ‘forgot I came in colour,’ and didn’t let it slide for weeks. Never again.”

The thought warms him. To know Jordan so intricately must be fascinating, he thinks - reckons he’d be a bit jealous if not for the fact that it’d be the daftest thing to be jealous of; his mates getting to see Jordan wearing salmon and him not. Does seem a shame, though.

“… Besides, I wouldn’t want to look approachable now, would I?”

He sort of laughs in the back on his throat (he does not giggle) because Jordan really does come across as so angsty but his self-awareness is commendable. “God forbid.”

They share a laugh, and then Jordan does that thing again where he doesn’t try to muster up a reply just yet, but he keeps eye contact like he wants Curly to know that his next response is brewing. Jordan is very shameless in the way that he reflects on what’s been said and sometimes, like now, thinks about what he wants to say next.

Curly wants to know (is about to ask) ‘what are you thinking,’ but then Jordan finally shakes his head, says, “it’s weird; I thought I’d gotten to this unspoken point in life where everybody I meet reminds me of somebody else.”

He says it so confidently, like he just knows that Curly get’s it, and Curls finds himself saying, “yeah. Yeah, me too.” He nods so fast he has to tuck disgruntled ringlets back behind his ears. It was like he was plucking thoughts and feelings from Curly’s daft head and putting them into actual, tangible words.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve met,” Jordan then adds like it’s nothing extraordinary. “I feel like there’s more to you than I’ll ever know.”

The Jordan he met at that party was all cool, dark features, stone expressions and sharp angles; thick, worn denim and heavy boots. Completely intimidating. The kind of intimidating that you desperately want to overcome just to overstep the obstruction. To get closer.

Tonight he is warm details, light touches and lingering smiles; his white hair against pale skin seems soft and unattainable. Turned to his side in the driver's seat, he has one knee pulled up to his chest as he talks. He’s been playing with one of his trainers for ages without really realising until they fall into silence and both of their eyes wander to watch his fingers pull at the laces absently.

Curly wonders which side of him is the one that comes naturally.

“Have you ever just met someone and decided you want to know them more than anyone else does?”

Jordan doesn’t respond. He lets something between a hum and a laugh escape him as he ties his lace again and lets his eyes return to Curly’s. He looks like he’s thinking, only for a second, before he leans across the console between them and cups Curly’s jaw in his hand. Jordan pauses, searching for something before he leans forward. Everything is telling Curly to just close his eyes and go for it, but his body betrays him and instead he ducks when he’s so close to kissing him, and Jordan stills.

They’re silent for a while. Curly tries to think of a way to explain himself without saying ‘I’m nervous,’ or, ‘it doesn’t feel like the right time,’ or, ‘I’ve been thinking about kissing you for days but I’m only just realising it and now we’re here it’s all just a bit confusing.’

They both say, “I’m sorry,” at the same time.

“It’s just… I have this thing,” Curly says, then winces at his choice of words. “I really like you.”

“Right, but…”

“No, I do! They’re something wrong with me. I’m just… Weird like this.” He buries his face in his hands as he swears under his breath. “You said you didn’t think I did this often. You weren’t bloody wrong.”

He curses himself even as he justifies his action; for not allowing himself something that could be a massive deal or absolutely nothing at all, and kicking himself for not being able to find the words to explain it.

“I just need a bit of time, a’right?”

Jordan doesn’t falter. He says, “yeah, cool. No pressure, Curls,” and his heart is in his throat again, but then the man adds, “so, your tattoo’s weird. I wanna know what it means,” as he points to his own forearm in the same place that Curly has a lamp depicted on his, and the air fills out again.

Curly begins with, “well my sister’s name is Genie…”

And they fall right back into a conversation that brings them past midnight.

He drags himself up the steps and opens his apartment door to a room full of people he doesn’t know. He’s in too much of a good mood to go to bed anyway, so he stays up a few extra hours and drinks a few beers and, before he realises what’s happening, he’s done two lines with Oscar and is telling a girl that he doesn’t know how much she reminds him of somebody from England. She says it’s sweet and he says, “is it?”

Jordan would get it.

[joanna-lannister]

margaret-rhee replied to your post : margaret-rhee replied to your post :...

Oh I think my favorite theory is that Bran somehow messes something up in time and makes the mad king mad (like saying burn them all is referring to the white walkers) kind of like Hodor. This is my favorite mostly because Bran annoys me and I would believe that this whole show is his fault somehow 😂 What about you?

I just hope they do Maggie justice whatever happens. I really liked how they wrote her this season (and how she was actually in scenes) so I’m hopeful that she might get a good end If she has to be written off at all

Oh, I love that one too! Some people hate and tried to debunk it but if that's true, it's pure genius imo! I don't hate Bran but I understand what you say, I think he will have a big part to play against the Night King tho. I love this theory too : Bran=The Night King. Still don't really get how it works but I love it.

Oh my dear I have so many theories, for almost everything! The GoT/ASOIAF world is so rich! I always wanted to write down my favorites somewhere but I'm kinda afraid to receive hate because the fandom is so messed up, but now it's the right time, I guess? It will be long and I'm so sorry, if you read everything : THANK YOU ❤️ So... let's go!

the Night King & the White Walkers win: everybody dies and everyone is sad lol

no more Wall: and no more Night Watch, the White Walkers are totally annihilated and the human race survives

the Iron Throne will be melt down: by wildfire? dragon fire? not sure. they fought so many years over this ugly piece of shit metal, it would be cool in the end if no one sit on it and if the human survives, they symbolically destroy it to rebuild a better world. as for Westeros, they are either united under one King or Queen or each Kingdoms are ruled by noble family, just like before Aegon's Conquest (the North=Stark, the Westerlands=Lannister...)

Sansa is queen: in her own right? consort? in the North? of Westeros? I don't know but I truly believe she will survive and be in charge one way or another, the Sansa queen imagery is too strong and it would be such a waste to kill her just for shock value so she will be happy in the end i hope or i will hunt D&D

Sansa marries Jon: my shipper heart talks here but i believe to unite the North or Westeros these two are the perfect match

Arya marries Gendry: okay I have big doubts about Arya survival, don't know, a bad feeling but I think she will marry him, maybe not in a tradional way but some kind. We still have Robert quote "I have a son, you have a daughter. We’ll join our Houses." I always tought it was a foreshadowing for these two. So maybe she marries him before the big battle and dies here or she marries him at the end and they have somehow a happy ending. honestly i just want her to be happy with Sansa 😊

Melisandre dies saving Davos: oooh the sweet irony...

Daenerys dies beyond the Wall: (or what's left) when I watched GoT the first time, I thought "She is going to win and will be the queen" but then, the Red Wedding happened and it totally change my perception of the show and more I watched it more I realise her visions in the House of the Undying are a metaphore : she never touch the throne, she hear her dragons, follow the sound and pass the Wall and find Drogo & Rhaego. (And here people will hate me) I think when she's gonna learn Jon has a better claim than her to the throne, she will get angry. Jeez, she fought men for years, she survived in their world, and just like that, one man has more claim than her because of a piece of paper ? She will lose control and make a huge mistake and when she realise it, it will be too late and she will try to fix it because at her core, she's a nice girl. maybe by killing Viserion? but she will die with Drogon (like Rhaego, he's her baby and he carry Drogo's name) and she will find some peace because even if she fail, she did the right thing in the end if i'm right, i will cry my ass off for days lol

Alliance Lannister-Stark: okay if the Dark!Daenerys or Dany is the Night Queen theory happen and Winterfell destroyed, i want the Starks to ask for help to the Lannisters. This alliance would be so ironic but in the end, the Starks betray the Lannisters and execute them like Ned

Cersei dies in childbirth: i know most of her fans hate this idea but this is probably my favorite. her love for her children made her do terrible things, she wanted their safety but it backfired her. she blamed Tyrion for Joanna's death (jeez, i understand). it's kind of poetic, tragic and ironic. i can see her sacrifice herself in order to save her baby, maybe Qyburn performing a c-section like Maggie did to Lori? D&D could totally write this for shock value plus it somehow fulfills the Valonqar prophecy twice: Jaime, her little brother, got her pregnant and indirectly caused her death and baby!Lannister, the little brother/sister of her children, caused her death

Baby!Lannister survives: two possibilities here : 1) he's raised by the Starks, he know nothing about his birth parents and hates the Lannisters. I think about this quote : "If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya." It would be funny that Sansa save the last Lannister and raise him as his own. 2) Tyrion promises Cersei to take care of the child, just like Ned with Lyanna, and escape with him. And because History repeats itself, they end up like Daenerys & Viserys. Flashforward 16 years later : baby!Lannister is all grown up, wants to avenge his family and say "I will take what is mine and they will hear me roar". Black screen. End of the show. LOL And then they can make another spin-off

Jaime & Cersei die in fire: If Cersei don't die in childbirth, I can see her burned with Jaime. Maybe by Daenerys or, imo, the White Walkers attack King's Landing (like Stannis in Blackwater), they have no way to escape, Cersei uses wildfire and burns the city. They exchange one last kiss and turn into ashes... "A day will come when you think you are safe and happy and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth" I mean... it's pretty poetic and romantic

Cersei kills the Night King: As above : the White Walkers attack King's Landing, Cersei uses wildfire and burns the city. Like, she saves the world by accident 😂

Jon dies: no comes back, no magic, he dies. Period. LOL

Sam wrote ASOIAF: cliché but i love it!

OMG! I have so many others ideas but I stop here, this is so long! I'm so so sorry... If you have read this big mess, BIG THAAANK YOU. If you haven't, it's okay I understand 😂

Same! I really liked her too this season (Lauren is so goooood), guess it's the Angela Kang effect (hell I even liked N*gan dialog but i still hate him lol). Maggie deserves a happy ending with baby!Gleggie and all the love in the world, she has already suffered enough. And even if she unfortunately don't come back, I'll tell myself she's okay, she's safe and she's doing good like this 😊

[ficdirectory]

Disuphere Universe miniseries: When I Was 8: Mariana

Saturday, July 1, 2006

Mariana usually sleeps in on the weekend, but Jesus is knocking on her door over and over and over until she has to wake up and grumble “Come in,” just so he will, and stop knocking.

He bounds in and sits on her bed.  “We’re getting adopted,” he tells her seriously.

She blinks.  He’s right.  They are!  Today!  In bits and pieces, last night comes back to her.  Jesus trying to leave.  Thinking he wasn’t being adopted.  Wasn’t part of this family.  Stef said Lena would make sure and fix it.  It looks like she did.  It’s still weird they don’t let Mariana fix that stuff.  It’s still weird to ask Moms for help when a problem is too big or dangerous.  It still feels more normal just to deal with it themselves.

“So...you know we’re getting adopted together?” Mariana asks.

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “I had a dream that Vin Diesel came to our adoption.”

“Moms protect us now, weirdo, we don’t need Vin Diesel,” Mariana remarks, yawning.

“Okay, but he was there.” Jesus argues.  “What did you dream?”

“Us, all by ourselves.  Without Ana.  Or food.  Or anything,” Mariana confesses.

Jesus wrinkles his nose.  “Hate that one.  I have it when I’m hungry.  Are you?”

Mariana thinks about it.  Her stomach growls, and Jesus meets her eyes, knowing.

“Let’s go have breakfast,” he says.

But it turns out Mariana can’t eat very much because her stomach feels funny.  She’s nervous like a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies is inside her flapping their wings.

She doesn’t wanna dress up or have Lena do her hair.  She wants to just go to adoption court like this.  If they don’t want her with messy hair and Hannah Montana pajamas then oh well.

It takes Jesus begging her, “Please, be good,” for Mari to agree to put clothes on and to let Lena touch her hair at all.

They get out the door and into the car.  Start driving.  Jesus is looking out his window, and Brandon’s looking out his window.  Mariana’s squished between them.

“Did Brandon ever have an adoption day?” Jesus wonders.

“What?” Stef asks, smiling.

“No,” Brandon says.

“Brandon’s not adopted.  He never had to move,” Mariana points out.

“But, like, how did he know he never had to move?  Away from Stef and Lena and even Mike?”  Jesus looks around Mariana at Brandon.  “Didn’t you have an adoption so you’d know for sure?”

“Know what?” Brandon asks.

“That you got to stay,” Jesus says simply.

“No.  I just know,” Brandon says, looking out the window.

“Lucky,” Mariana breathes.

Jesus is quiet for one whole minute before he talks again:  “I think it’s happening because we’re eight.”

“What is?” Mariana asks.

“This.  Our adoption.” Jesus says, like it’s obvious.

“It’s not happening because we’re eight,” Mariana says back, sure.

“Why not?  It didn’t happen when we were seven or six or five or four.  So maybe it happened now because we’re eight.”

“It happened because the judge finally terminated Ana’s right to be our mom.  So now Stef and Lena get a turn.  To do better,” Mariana pitches her voice a little, over the traffic and the radio and Moms talking.

“What’s that, love?” Stef asks.

“You’re gonna do better than Ana at being our Moms, right?” Mariana checks.

“We will protect you and keep you safe.  Always,” Lena says.

“I still think it happened because we’re eight,” Jesus whispers.  He’s so stubborn.

Mariana gets pale when the courthouse comes into view.  She clutches Jesus’s hand.  When everybody else gets out of the car, she doesn’t.  Jesus can’t because she’s holding his hand too tight.

“Mari, we have to go.  I don’t wanna miss it,” Jesus insists.

“No,” Mariana says, pulling his hand even closer.  “What if the judge changed their mind and Mom--er--Ana’s inside and we have to go back with her.”

Jesus’s eyes get big.  “Red light!” he screams so it hurts Mariana’s ears.

“Guys, we gotta go inside, okay?  Everybody’s waiting,” Stef says, sticking her head in.  “What’s up?”

But Mariana can’t talk right now.  She really has to pee and she’s pretty sure they didn’t bring backup clothes.

“Mari said what if Ana’s in there?” Jesus shares seriously.  “And what if we have to go back with her ‘cause the judge said.”

“My babies, the judge said Ana cannot be your mom anymore.  She’s not allowed.  So she is not inside.” Stef says, like that fixes everything.  When it doesn’t fix anything.

Mariana squeezes Jesus’s hand to make their thoughts zoom from her to him.  She knows it works when Jesus says:

“But what if the judge changed their mind and we have to go with Ana?  That happened a bunch of times.  Court stuff is never good.”

“Well, this court stuff is very good,” Stef promises.  “Protection and safety, remember?  Mama and I would never make you go somewhere unsafe.”  She takes Jesus’s other hand, and because he’s still connected to Mariana, she has to get out, too.

“No!” Mariana screams.  

“Miss Thang,” Lena turns, concerned.  “What’s this?”

“You have to do what the judge says!  Even grownups!  So if the judge randomly changed their mind and wanted us to not go with you, you couldn’t protect us from that!  You couldn’t stop it!  So stop lying!  Please!  We’re not little kids!”

Mariana’s out of breath.  She’s sweating and her hair is sticking to her face.  She can’t let go of Jesus’s hand, in case he thinks about either running away from the courthouse or running inside it to check for Vin Diesel.

“Is that gonna happen?” Jesus asks, his voice low.  Wary.

“Now, what’s going on here, with my beautiful granddaughter and my handsome grandson?”

That’s Grams.  She told Mari and Jesus to call her Grams from way back when they were five.  She’s a professor at a college.  So she knows lots of things.  More, even, than Lena, who’s a teacher.  So, maybe she’ll know what happens if the judge is in a mood and decides not to let them be adopted after all.

“Mom, we really have to go inside,” Lena presses.

“Dear, why don’t you go with your father, Brandon and Stef?” Grams tells Lena.  “Mariana and Jesus and I will be in in a moment.”

Mariana feels a little better when it’s less people around.  

Grams offers Mariana some water, but Mari shakes her head.

“Who’s more powerful than a judge?” Mariana asks after a bit of just walking.  “A professor?”

Grams looks like she wants to laugh, but doesn’t.  “Why do you ask, love?”

“Because I need somebody in there more powerful than a judge,” Mariana insists.

Grams stops.  They sit together on a bench.  It’s hot.  Mariana finally sips some water.  

“Why is that?” Grams asks.

“Because what if the judge changes his mind?  And we have to go back to Ana?  Sometimes laws don’t work, you know?  People don’t follow them?  Like when foster parents were supposed to take care of me and Jesus but they dropped us off with the police instead.  Or a bunch of times when the judge said Ana could have another chance at being our mom…”

“But she shouldn’t have…” Jesus adds.

“What if the judge makes the wrong choice?” Mariana worries.

“Part of the judge’s job today is to ask you both if you want to live with Lena and Stefanie and have them be your mothers.”

“We do, but the judge doesn’t listen to us,” Mariana says.  “Only if we were lawyers.”

“Well, this is the very last step of a long process, my dears.  The judge is dotting all her i’s and crossing all her t’s.”

“So she can spell it?” Jesus asks, confused.

“I just mean...for example...when you put together a puzzle?  And you get to that point where you have one piece left?  It won’t go in by itself, unless somebody helps it get there.  The last piece is the judge confirming with you both and Lena and Stefanie, that this is what you all want.  Then, she’ll sign her name, and that will be that.  But we must go inside first, so we can all do our part, to be sure you both are where you belong.”

“If she does change her mind, will you fight her, Grams?” Jesus asks seriously.

“She’s not going to change her mind.  You two don’t change your mind when there’s only one piece of the puzzle left, do you?”

They shake their heads.  “Usually we fight over it,” Mariana admits.

“Well, you can bet all the judges are in their chambers, fighting over this.  ‘I wanna finalize the adoption on those great twins!  No me!  No, I do!”  Grams pretends to be all the judges, doing funny voices as she walks them into the courthouse.  “I bet you they’re having a race right now to see which one of them is the lucky judge who gets to be the one to sign their name to you two getting your forever family.”

Jesus is craning his neck.

“Honey, what are you looking for?” Grams asks.

“I wanna see them run in those robes,” he says, quiet.  Jesus is usually the one running around and loud but he’s nervous, too.  Mariana can tell.

They wait their turn and finally it’s time to go inside.  Grams flashes them a double thumbs up, for luck.  Jesus and Mari do it back.  Then they go in and sit at a big table with Stef and Lena.  The judge - a lady - asks Stef and Lena questions and then asks Jesus and Mariana if they understand that Stef and Lena are going to be their parents forever, and if that is what they want.

“Yes,” they say together, into the same microphone.  They are holding hands.  Mariana knows without looking that Jesus has his fingers crossed behind him right now, because she is doing the same.

“The minor children shall henceforth be named Jesus Gabriel Foster and Mariana Foster.”

The judge signs her name.  And Mariana’s looked and looked under every table, and by the door, but no Ana.

The judge says they can pick a stuffed animal but Mariana doesn’t want one.  It reminds her of the ones they were given whenever they had to move somewhere new.

They all take pictures together, even the judge, too.  Mariana and Jesus get to sit in the judge’s chair, even.  Mari hears it when Jesus asks, loud, “Aren’t you happy you won?” to the judge.

“I beg your pardon?” the judge asks, with a smile.

“Won?  You know?  Us?  You got to be the judge that adopted us to our parents,” Jesus explains.

“And…” the judge is still lost, Mari can tell.

“And aren’t you happy?” Jesus asks.

“I am.  Very happy.  Are you two happy?”

“Yes,” they chorus again.

They take family pictures again out in the lobby area.  Mariana’s favorites are silly ones.  And the ones with her, Jesus, and Moms - can she call them Moms now?

When they go out and have family pizza afterward, Mariana still kinda has that holding-your-breath feeling.  When Brandon says “Mom” to ask for money to play arcade games he says it so easy.  Like, just, “Mom.”  But they had called Ana that and she got that taken away from her.

Would the same happen again?  Would Stef and Lena forget about them?  Forget to love them?  Feed them?  Forget about everything.  Would they get their rights taken away, too?

Yeah, Mari and Jesus are safe now.  Sometimes they were with Ana, too.  So, Mari guesses the holding-your-breath feeling will have to last a little bit longer.  To see if they get kicked out, have to move again after all, and leave everything behind.

--

The very next month?  They move.  To a new brown house, on a street.  One secret part of Mari’s brain that still knows random Spanish words knows that it’s probably called Butterfly Street.

“So, that’s where they all went…” she comments under her breath, thinking about her adoption day butterflies.

Maybe they came here because they knew.  That someday, Mariana and Jesus would get to know what it’s like to move all together with their family.  Not alone.

She watches the door open and Jesus stick his head out.  “Mari, what are you doing?  Come on.”

“Okay,” she says, climbing the steps.  On the porch.  In the house.  Door closed.

Mariana leans against the heavy door, letting out a breath, finally.

Finally, feeling like everything is just right.

[intergalacticrp]

NAME :// ULRICH STERN ORIGIN :// CODE LYOKO AGE :// TWENTY-THREE JOB :// STRIKER FOR THE WARRIORS FC :// BRANDON FLYNN

we could fight a war for peace           (ooh woo, I'm a rebel just for kicks, now)                     give in to that easy living                               goodbye to my hopes and dreams

BIOGRAPHY ://

ulrich thinks that he must have been someone normal, once. must have had a normal life, must have trusted a family he once had, must have loved them. knows that they're out there somewhere because they still contact him every now and again and he has to pretend. he has to pretend to care about these people because all he remembers is the day that he left them, the day that his father's words cut into him like knives and the day that he cut himself away from them forever. the day that he decided that he wasn't going to back, or maybe he didn't decide to cut himself off. maybe a decision was never truly made. maybe he was trying to get some space.

and maybe that wasn't his intention. maybe he meant to leave them forever. maybe it was done in the heat of the moment and he always meant to go back. maybe, maybe, maybe. but he'll never know where maybe might have led, because. well. sometimes life gets in the way of all those maybes. sometimes life gets so thoroughly in the way that you forget what might have been important, once, in a past that you can only kind of remember. sometimes new memories wipe away the old until they don't seem to matter anymore. until people don't seem to matter anymore. or at least, people outside of those that you've surrounded yourself with in the here and now. people that you can trust, you can trust them, if you'll only let yourself do so.

ulrich thinks he was eighteen years old when he went into lyoko. he thinks he was eighteen. thinks he was eighteen. thought that only six weeks passed while they were there, ticking down the days so carefully. counting up the days so that he wouldn't lose sight of the end goal. but six weeks somehow became six months and how does that happen? what does that mean. he was eighteen when he went into lyoko, and six weeks, six months later, he came back out. but how old was he then? still eighteen? how could he be eighteen when a virtual reality had eaten him alive? when a virtual reality had chewed him up and spit him back out? when a virtual reality had torn apart everything he once knew about himself. or everything that he'd thought he knew about himself ...

ulrich stern is probably not the person that he once was. he's probably changed somewhere along the way, tweaked something imperceptible but vital within his chest, his head, his body, his mind, his soul. but who is there around that's going to tell him how changed he is? there's odd, of course. his best friend, the person who probably knows him best of everyone. but with everything that happened, but with everything that they've all been through ... there's no way that odd hasn't changed as well. so he's not going to bother him with questions about the past, questions about who he is, who they were, who they are. there's yumi, there's jeremie. but there's change in them as well. there's change in all of them.

he was eighteen when he went into lyoko. when they went into lyoko, all of them. he and odd and yumi, leaving jeremie at the helm. trusting jeremie to take care of them, to make sure that they were safe and having fun within the virtual world. he was eighteen when he dived into this adventure headfirst. a little scared, certainly apprehensive, but determined. determined to see what was going on at first, then to have fun, then to figure out who this new girl was. then to see what he could do to help, then to see how he could save their new friend. then to see how they could get out of here, they had to get out of here, why was it taking so long to get them out of here?

he never blamed jeremie. held himself back even though all he wanted was to latch on to jeremie like glue. because jeremie was something familiar, something real, something that he could hold on to. something that would help him remember that he was free from lyoko, that he was back in the real world, that the real world still existed. so he latched on to jeremie in every way but physically. he followed jeremie around, made sure that his friend wasn't isolating himself when he could, and tried his best to make sure that everyone was okay. ulrich was the best at worrying about other people, but the worst at making sure they knew they were loved. he tried to change that to. they needed somewhere to stay, after that. they couldn't go back home. how could they explain to their parents, their old friends, neighbors and coworkers and cashiers at their regular grocery stores? how could they explain that they were different, that so much had changed in such a short amount of time? how could they explain why they felt like war veterans, how could they explain all that they had been through? would they even want to try?

so they found the space station. found a place that would accept them if only because it didn't know them. there was no one there to question the change that had taken place in all of them. no one to wonder why ulrich no longer smiled so much, why he was jumpy around noise and people, why he woke up screaming more often than not - and had deep purple eye bags as a result. there was no one that they had to explain things to, because they left everything behind. it was strangely refreshing, finding someplace new. finding something new, with all of his friends.

something new, something safe. or at least it was supposed to be safe. it was supposed to be someplace that they could disappear, someplace that they could call home. but instead... instead, for a little while, it wasn't safe. it wasn't as safe as they'd promised themselves it was going to be. it was distinctly unsafe as someone tried to attack them, tried to hurt them, tried to kill them. and in those moments, the most dangerous ones, ulrich found that he didn't much care if he lived or died. but to see someone so close to hurting yumi, to hurting odd, to hurting jeremie, and even aelita? that was something that he couldn't handle. and that was why he didn't want william to have another chance. not because he may end up being some kind of romantic rival, not because he had a killer smile or because ulrich was afraid that he was being replaced. but because he was terrified that william was going to hurt them again.

he went along with it though. went along with it when it was suggested, pushed, that they give william another chance. because it wasn't his fault, because they gave aelita another chance and how could they play favorites in such a manner? aelita was the one to suggest it, odd the first to follow along, jeremie after that, and finally a somewhat reluctant yumi. so ulrich agreed. he agreed. would have drawn a metaphorical line in the sand if anyone had broached the idea of having william move in with them at the time, but no one did. maybe no one else felt entirely safe, or maybe they could see the discomfort that reverberated from him in waves. maybe they understood that there were some things that he was not yet willing to push. or maybe it was just that the rest of them weren't ready to push for that either. because no matter how much they wanted to give him another chance, maybe they weren't quite willing to put themselves at risk just yet.

instead they put their collective efforts into turning their apartment into a home. jeremie bankrolls it first and foremost. at first none of them really know where he gets the money. when they find out, none of them really care. he's not taking the money from anyone who will miss it, after all. so they use the money in ways that will make their lives easier. they decorate the apartment in ways that will help to ground them. odd picks up a little dog and names him kiwi, prompting the beginnings of what will soon become a little zoo of their own. slowly but surely, ulrich starts to feel safe. safer, rather. never quite completely safe, but as close as he's going to get. he can accept that.

he lasts only a couple weeks before he starts going stir crazy. even exploring the station can only do so much, and only makes him paranoid. it's not something that's fun beyond the first day. ulrich needs something to keep him busy, and jeremie helps him find that. faking documentation showing training camps that were years and years ago, showing past job experience that doesn't exist ... jeremie helps him secure a job that he's always wanted, and ulrich begins to settle. as time passes, he tries his best to find his place here. even on nights when he can't sleep in his bed. even on days where he has to skip soccer practice because the idea of leaving the apartment sends him shaking ... he tries his best. he adjusts. he begins to accept this as the new normal.

AESTHETIC ://

boundless faith, boundless fear. sword in hand. the knight saves the princess. hiking boots. sprinting as fast as you can. tall trees. trying harder. having a hard time waking up alone. a thousand matches, fit to burn. dying to forget, afraid of not remembering. having a good laugh with your best friend. cuddling for the contact. soccer ball on wet grass. hours of practice. home is where the heart is.

MISC ://

when he was a kid, he always wanted to be a star soccer player. it was something that he was good at. it was something that he loved doing. and it was something that earned him respect and praise from his parents - and, in particular, his father. a small part of him never really thought that he would get here, though.

in the here and now, ulrich is a soccer player because it's what comes naturally to him. he's a soccer player because there wasn't exactly an open spot on the asteroid for a kid who feels older than he is and reeks of battle wounds that he shouldn't really have. scars that he has no backstory for. there wasn't an open spot on the asteroid for someone who knew how to wield a variety of sword like weapons, but who had a fifty fifty chance of either cowering away or attacking entirely too harshly when provoked.

ulrich is a soccer player because it reminds him of a past he can barely remember. with everything eaten up by lyoko, all of his memories taking place there ... there's not a lot of room for the boy that he once was. a boy that he was not so long ago, not too long ago, not long enough ago that he should have so much trouble remembering. he's a soccer player now because muscle memory is every bit a thing, and because it's something safe. not so much contact as football or hockey, but something to keep him interested. something to keep him sane.

ulrich is a soccer player because it is one of the few things that keeps him grounded. because he can somehow remember how to shoot the shit with his teammates but can't remember the meals and snacks he used to take every single day. he can remember the teamwork and camaraderie, but not faces. he can remember the stadium, but not the games. and part of him doesn't want to remember.

CONNECTION ://

odd della robbia : best friend; with benefits.

yumi ishiyama : best friend; first crush.

jeremie belpois : best friend; grounding factor.

aelita schaeffer : best friend; someone to protect.

william dunbar : frenemy; back up grounding factor.

elisabeth "sissi" delmas : childhood friend; expects someone who no longer exists.

AVAILABILITY :// OPEN || TAKEN BY KAELYN

[jojuarez26]

We found love in a hopeless place Part 16

I take a moment before opening the door to compose myself after the flood of emotions that just fucked me up. I don't have time to explore it right now.

I take one last look back and close the door putting my lock down code in. As I jog down the hall way ready to call Max I hear the bitch screech my name.

I stop and turn around. Honestly I wish she looked more genuinely pissed than just for show pissed. I know the difference to well.

"You bastard. Give me back my son," she yells in my face.

I take a step back and breath. Damn Dara to hell.

"No. We are getting ready to go into lock down. As my son he falls under my protection and no you cant go with him. OUR son is safe. Go home Dara I will call you later." I turn to go

Dara grabs my arm to swing me around and throw a punch.

Seeing as how I am faster and smarter, she fails as I turn her and grip her arms behind her back.

"You son of bitch. I hate you. I fucking HATE YOU," she is screaming like a damn banshee.

"Yeah I know."

I see Schmidt a guard, heading towards us. Perfect.

"Schmidt take her to lock please. Single cell, low security. Thank you," I had her over ready to go.

"ERIC YOU SO-"

"Dara enough. I don't have time for this. I will talk to you later. I promise." With that I pay her no more mind and start jogging down the hall way again finally calling Max.

"Max," he snaps into the phone.

"It's Eric."

"Damn it Coulter! Where are you and what the fuck is going on." He barked into the phone.

"On the way to my office. Max if you have ever trusted me as a leader I need you to trust me now. I need a state of emergency meeting called for in an hour and we need a compound wide lock down now. Please Max," I actually ALMOST beg.

"Eric I've always trusted you. Your just an asshole so I don't give you the reigns. Right now, I just respected your authority more than I ever have. I hearby give you temporary control of the compound. I'll see you in an hour." Pride fills his voice.

"Thank you Sir," I breath a sigh of relief.

"Don't thank me son. Just make me fucking proud." The line goes dead

This day is unbelievable. I must be stuck somewhere between a nightmare and a perfect fucking dream.

I storm in my office demanding orders of my secretary, booting up my computer and scrambling for files.

The familiar hated fucking number flashes on my phone for the fifth time in seven minutes. I have zero time and even less patient for this bitch right now. I finally decided to answer it.

"NOW IS NOT THE DAMN TIME JEANINE," I bellow into the phone.

"Eric what the hell have you done. You just put my niece and grandson in eminent danger."

My stomach dropped and my world stopped spinning.

"What did you just say?" I almost whisper

I know Sam is her niece, but how in the ever loving fuck does she think she is MY SONS grandmother.

"You miserable ass lieing ass bitch. Fuck you," I spit with malice.

"Dara is unfortunately my train wreck of a daughter. I told her when I found out she was with child with Adam. Trying to keep her from completely fucking up another human beings life. He is not an expirment to me Eric. He is my grandson."

This is worse than a gawd damn nightmare because I know I am fucking awake.

"I don't believe you," I deadpan.

"Check the email you just received," she sounds like nails on a chalk board.

I opened the file and start to feel nauseous as I skim the files.

"I would not lie to Eric. Not about this and not now. You have no idea what you have just done and the danger you just put my family in. You need my help."

Blind rage bubbles up and out my mouth.

"NO! MY FAMILY, MY SON, MY GIRL!! YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM YOU EVIL BITCH!" I didn't realize I was screaming like a child until Jeanine's voice cut me off.

"Now is not the time for foolish pride get in your way right now. I don't want to take them I want to protect them. Where are they right now?"

"Not your business where Sam and Adam are. Your miserable offspring is currently in lockup." I mumble.

"Lockup? Why on earth is that ridiculous girl in lockup?" I can picture her rolling her perfect eyes while tapping her perfectly manicured nails on her desk.

"I put there. I don't have time for her tantrums and games. I knew she'd be safe and out of my way. Jeanine I have to go. I will be in touch" I leave no room for arguments.

"Fine. Three hours Eric. If I don't hear from you I will find you." It is definitely a threat.

"No promises," I end the call

"Your day is hella fucked up today isn't Sir."

I spin around to face my useless, big mouth secretary.

Perfect, just fucking great. I will end this bitch if she runs off at her mouth. I am about to tell her ignorant ass as much too.

"Keilynne. You know I don't like you, can't stand you actually right?" I slowly stalk towards her, grinning as she backs herself into a wall.

"Sir?" She says confused and frankly pretty frightened. Good.

I bet over her essentially pinning her to the wall. I place my lips right on her ear. Then I start to speak again.

"As a matter of fact I would probably enjoy throwing you into the Chasm. So. Hopefully you see where this is potentially going." She swallows hard and just nods, tears welling in her eyes.

"If you so much as even whisper a single word of ANYTHING you just heard, to anyone. I will end you just for shits and giggles. Am I making myself clear," I ask sternly but deadly quiet.

"Y-y-yess Sir. Cr-crystal." Two tears slide down her cheek.

Just to be extra fucking sadistic, I place the ghost of a kiss on her cheek catching one of her tears.

"Perfect. Now.get.back.to.WORK," I take a step back and she ran out of my office.

It's a hard job being a dick, but somebody has to enjoy it. Right? Fuck, a glance at my watch tells me I have twenty minutes left. Better get a move on it.

The halls of the Dauntless compound are all but empty and silent. A patrol passing speaking in whispers here and there. Otherwise. Nothing.

It angers and pains me to see my faction like this. What hurts even worse? Knowing I caused this. This is my fault.

I scan my palm on the first door and my retinas at the second. This is the absolute most secure room in all of Dauntless.

All but two people that are needed are here. One is in my home with my family, where the fuck is Murphy, our second in command engineer? That isn't setting well with me as I take my seat next to Max.

"Four?" Max ask

"Sam and Adam. And Murph?" This isn't going to end well.

"I had hoped beyond hell you knew," he sighs. We both know what this means

"Fuck. For whatever fucking reason we don't know, one of our top engineers is a faction traitor," I grit threw my teeth.

"Well yes and no. He is actually a dead faction traitor as of fifteen minutes ago," Macy speaks as she sits down.

"Come again?" Fuck my life. The universe officially hates me today

It's then I notice the small smears of blood on Macy's cheeks and arm. Just keeps getting better.

"When we started to initiate the lockdown, Amber or is it Audra? Anyway his damn wife noticed he sent out ten encrypted files. So she texted Harrison. I went to confront him. He pulled a knife, I pulled a gun. And well he is currently in the Chasm with three new bullet holes. Oops," Mace shrugs her shoulders.

Macy may not be one of my favorite people, but she is a bad ass bitch and I respect the hell out of her. Well, most of the time

"Any ideas who, what, when, where and why?" Max frowned. This shit just kept rolling down hill.

"Yes, but I doubt you will believe me," she rolls her eyes and shrugs.

"You would be surprised what I will believe at the current moment. Try me," I say leaning back

"He is a plant. From outside the wall."

"Detain Abby," "Audra," "What the fuck ever. Detain that bitch now and lock down there living quarters as a crime scene," I growled.

"So, you believe me?" She ask in a nervous voice.

"Today? Absofuckinglutely," I sneer.

"Oh thank Gawd. I just knew you where going to think I am shot the fuck out," she blows out the breath she was holding.

"Where did the intel come from?"

"He told me. As he threatened to remove my pretty eyeballs and feed them to me just before I filled him full of lead.'

"Son of bitch Max this is bad. Every fucking minute that ticks by it gets worse," I groan.

"Eric fuck you. You're jinx it bro," Macy sighs dramatically.

"Enough both of you. Lets get started shall we?" Max chides.

I clear my throat and stand. I hope beyond all hope my faction will forgive me. I let my personal shit dictate what happened that ultimately affected my whole faction. I look around and I just see people who want and need answers. No anger or frustration. So far. Here goes nothing.

"Thank you all for being here. I want to start by saying I am amazed and proud of you all for serving your faction well when duty called." Looks of appreciation.

"Now I would like to sincerely apologize to all of you personally. I am most of the reasons why are faction is heading into uncharted, dangerous territory." Now confusion.

"How so Eric?" Brandon, head of the patrols asked.

Here goes nothing. I just dive in head first and tell my faction the honest truth of all the events that lead us here.

Forty-five minutes in, Brandon asked for the floor and I hand it over.

"Eric I can't speak for the entire faction, but I am willing to bet most of us would agree, nobody blames you. You reacted as ANY of us would. You have done something alot of people wouldn't. You accepted your responsibility and you have stepped the fuck up. This is Dauntless, this is who we are and what we do. You have my full and absolute support going forward in this situation. No regrets. We are Dauntless," Brandon ends in battle cry.

"We are Dauntless!" Erupts around the room. I am shocked to say the least.

"I told you people like you dick," Max whispers in my ear.

I turn to look at my leader. The look of pride in his eyes sends a wave of emotion over me. I look out to my fellow Dauntless. The looks of pride, respect, commeradery and... acceptance, have me feeling for the first time I truly belong.

Five hours later we close our session out and will reconvene at seven am. I can't help but stop Brandon on his way out.

"I, I just wanted to. Thank you. For believing in me and standing by our faction." The words feel awkward and foreign on my tongue.

Brandon extends his hand to shake mine. I take it gratefully.

"Look man, I'm an asshole. It's just, who I am. But at the end of the day I take my duties to my faction seriously. Until you, today, I felt Max was the only person to take me seriously. It just, I. Once again thank you,"I mumble like a fucking fool

"Eric nobody thought you didn't take your commitment to this faction seriously or that you weren't a good leader. Quite the opposite actually. But I do agree that you are an asshole and more often than night unappoarchable. After today though, I think people's opinions might have changed a little. Nobody expects you to be someone your not or that you will change in a day. But keep stepping in this direction man. You'd be surprised what you will find." Brandon showed nothing but respect in everything he said.

I nodded my head in appreciation and said goodnight.

"Fucking proud son. All the way. You finally have realized you are home," Max boasted clapping me on the shoulder.

[libralita]

Reread Review!

Title: The Knights of Crystallia

Author: Brandon Sanderson

Illustrator: Hayley Lazo

Summary: In this third Alcatraz adventure, Alcatraz Smedry has made it to the Free Kingdoms at last. Unfortunately, so have the evil Librarians--including his mother! Now Alcatraz has to find a traitor among the Knights of Crystallia, make up with his estranged father, and save one of the last bastions of the Free Kingdoms from the Evil Librarians.

Rating: ★★★★★

Review:

“It felt right. Serene. That, of course, meant it was time for something to explode.”—Page 22

Brandon’s logic for all his books.

“(Note: This word can only be used to describe fish stick themselves, as nothing has yet been found that is equally crapaflapnasti. Though the unclean, moldy, cluttered space under Brandon Sanderson’s bed comes close.)”—Page 24

Ew.

“‘Imagine the chaos if gravity stopped working across the entire world!’ I don’t have to imagine it. I’ve lived it. But then, we’ll get to that. Eventually.”—Page 30

Wait, has that happened?

“But…what if she was worried about me? What did that mean? Suddenly I found myself blushing too.”—Page 34

Can you feel the love tonight?

“We’ll have to act with daring recklessness and an intense vibrato!”—Grandpa Smedry, Page 36

So act normal.

Attica, Kazan and Pattywagon. One of these names is not like the other. Also is there a prison called Pattywagon? If not. I’ve got an idea.

“Besides, stories such as this one always have at least one hidden member of royalty among the core cast.”—Page 59

A more accurate truth has never been written.

“‘You done being affectionate with the young knight there?’ she asked me. ‘Cute thing, isn’t she?’”—Page 68

This series is great but it needs more Pattywagon.

“I sat back, feeling a little bit disturbed. Not because of what Patty said—I was used to Free Kingdomer rationalization. No, I was disturbed because I’d somehow managed to talk about both excrement and flatulence in the course of two chapters. If I could somehow work in barfing, then I’d have a complete potty humor trifecta.”—Page 71

Truly the best series.

“We’re like an unholy mix of Brady Bunch and the UCLA honors department.”—Page 72

Pretty much.

“Once when I was very young, I was being drive to the public swimming pool by my foster mother.”—Page 77

Oh no…this freaking quote. I still can’t believe Brandon did this.

“‘Fantasy novels,’ Aunt Patty said, shaking her head. ‘Ah well. Rot your rain if you want.’”—Page 89

Fantasy novels are great.

“If that’s the case, then why does she need a guard to watch over her?”—Page 90

He’s in love.

“‘The prince is a novelist?’ I asked. ‘his father was terribly disappointed to hear about the hobby,’ Folsom said. ‘You know what terrible people authors tend to be.’ ‘They’re mostly social miscreants,’ Himalaya agreed.”—Page 99

Yeah…

“I stopped in place. The two of us looked at each other. My father had a large group of people doting on him, and most of them—I noticed—were attractive young women. The types who wore gowns that were missing large chunks of cloth on the back or on the sides.”—Page 103

Weird.

“Once there was a boy named Alcatraz. He did some stuff that was kind of interesting. Then one day, he betrayed those who depended on him, doomed the world, and murdered someone who loved him. The end.”—Page 107

Wow, I haven’t sobbed in a while.

“Any story, no matter how good, will sound really, really dumb when you shorten it to a few sentences.”—Page 107

By the power of eating metal, a group of thieves try to kill god. Exchanging souls by breathing with a hint of rom com. Zombies. Sandbenders get genocided. A plant full of fucking dementors. Stormlight Archive is too complicated to sum up in one sentence.

“That’s when my betrayal happened.”—Page 108

The amount of pain I’m in.

“‘She Who Cannot Be Named?’ I asked. ‘Why can’t we say her name? Because it might draw the attention of evil powers? Because we’re afraid of her? Because her name has become a curse upon the world?’ ‘Don’t be silly,’ Himalaya said. ‘We don’t say her name because nobody can pronounce it.’”—Page 109

I like a lot of things about series but I think my favorite thing is the jabs at Harry Potter.

“My reputation only grew more daunting after the events at the Library of Congress and the Spire of the World.”—Page 127

Foreshadowing!

Given the fact that Truthfinder and Truthwatcher are so similar, I wonder if Renarin can see when people are lying.

I still don’t want to know what gerbil snorting is.

She Who Cannot Be Named is so terrifying.

“‘Grandpa,’ I said. ‘Yes?’ ‘You’re crazy.’ ‘Thank you!’”—Page 163

A conversation that happens a lot in Sanderson’s books.

“In fact, many people think that if they like mac and cheese rather than fish sticks, the best thing to do is ban fish sticks. That would be a tragedy. If we let people do things like that, eventually we’d end up with only one thing to eat. And it probably wouldn’t be mac and cheese or fish sticks. It’d probably be something that none of us like to eat. You want to be better person? Go listen to someone you disagree with. Don’t argue with them, just listen. It’s remarkable what interesting things people will say if you take the time to not be a jerk.”—Page 194

Favorite quote ever.

“But…but I’m recovering! I’ve been clean for months now! You can’t ask me to go back, you can’t”—Page 197

Why are there so many drug references in this book? I mean, I don’t doubt that Brandon was on drugs when he was writing this but doesn’t mean he needs to write about it.

“I am a good Librarian!”—Page 203

Whoo!

“This is the middle book of the series. And as everyone knows, the heroes always lose in the middle book. It makes the series more tense.”—Page 215

Hey, Oathbringer is technically the middle book in the first arc…shit.

“Bastille rolled her eyes. ‘How can you be so clever sometimes, Smedry, but such an idiot other times?’”—Page 220

How? Why can’t they? I don’t understand why Alcatraz is an idiot for wanting to say the obvious. Even if they do admit their love for each other, Alcatraz can still (weirdly) marry them later on. This just seems so contrived.

Also, Alcatraz like Brandon Sanderson is stoopidly clever. Get it right, Bastille.

“‘Why speak such harsh words about Librarians if you’re so fascinated by out lands?’ Sing fell silent.”—Page 239

Oh snap.

I really hope we get more of Shasta Smedry in the next book.

“And you are all to blame for this, in part. This is what your adoration does. You create for yourselves heroes using our names, but those fabrications are so incredibly, so elevated that the real thing can never live up to them. You destroy us, consume us. And I am what’s left over when you’re done.”—Page 242

Please end my suffering.

“I mean, why is it that you readers always assume that you’re never to blame for anything? You just there, comfortable on your couch while we suffer. You can enjoy our pain and our misery because you’re safe. Well, this is real to me. It’s real. It still affects me. Ruins me.”—Page 243

Jesus Christ this is so heartbreaking.

“I am not a god. I am not a hero. I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t save people, or protect them, because I can’t even save myself! I am a murderer! Do you understand? I KILL HIM.”—Page 244

No! No you didn’t! Sweetie, it wasn’t your job! Attica was the adult, it was his job to protect you. It’s okay.

Just, let me hug Alcatraz Smedry. Just, one hug. That’s all I ask for.

Marrying Himalaya and Folsom is still weird.

I always forget that Swcbn nickname. She’s my favorite villain.

I’m guessing that Dif corrupted the Mindstone. Didn’t they pick him up at the World Spire?

“The seats on the north side were now completely empty, save for Swcbn. The grandmotherly woman looked up at me, smiling. She held up the afghan she’d been knitting. It depicted a blood skull.”—page 269

God, she’s so cool!

I got teary eyed during the Archedis-Bastille fight.

“Swcbn finally put down her knitting. ‘You,’ she said, ‘are very bad children. No cookies for you.’ And with that, she vanished—replaced with an exact statue of herself, sitting in that very position.”—Page 274

God, she’s so bad ass.

“I feel I should have died years ago. Instead, I proved myself to be a coward. You’ll see what I mean eventually.”—Page 275

*choked sob* No!

“He certainly did have a charm about him, when he wanted to impress people. In that moment, looking at that smile, I could swear that I’d seen him somewhere, long before my visit to the Library of Alexandria.”—Page 282

Oh, god, don’t tell me that Attica visited Alcatraz before his 13th birthday. Don’t do this to me, Sanderson.

“I imagine a world, not so distant in the future, where everyone has a Smedry Talent.”—Attica, Page 283

That is really insane.

“‘And you let her steal it?’ my father demanded indignantly.”—Page 285

Oh, Attica…I want to like you, but you’re so difficult.

“We can control them,”—Attica, Page 285

Huh, it appears that both Attica and Shasta want to control Smedry Talents.

Last-Paging is great.

“No, we’re not done yet. Be patient. We’ve only had three endings so far; we can stand another one.”—Page 291

I imagine this is how the final Stormlight Archive book is going to go.

“I won’t warn you when my big failure is about to arrive. It will hurt far more when it’s a surprise. You’ll see.”—Page 291

DAMN STRAIGHT IT WILL.

[dj-syrup]

The Unnamed, Episode 01x01: Pilot

I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what I’m doing in a lot of this. If I get stuff wrong, please tell me.

I would like it noted that while I am part of the LGTBQIAP+ community, and while I am on that spectrum, I haven’t been for very long. There are things I don’t understand yet. Please don’t judge me too hard.

All of my posts for this series will be tagged as both #the unnamed and #social justice special forces.

Of course, the only way I know of to make sure you see every episode is to either come to my page once a week, or follow my blog. Your choice. Either way.

Anyway. Enjoy...

"You know, it scares me every time you leave."

Caleb turned away from the door and looked Josh, his partner, in the eye.

"I'll be safe," Caleb replied. "Don't worry about me. Worry about you."

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you do for work?"

"No, I'm not. You worry enough as it is."

They kiss, and Caleb leaves, a quiet, worn expression on his face. Josh would never know what his boyfriend did for a living, and that was as it should be.

That was as it had to be.

Caleb climbed into his car, started the engine, and left. He followed the coastal roads up the Eastern seaboard, plying his route from his New York suburb into the crowded heart of New York City. The perks of having a wealthy employer (more to the point, a wealthy employer who didn't mind sharing his money with his employees) included being able to drive your own car to work, and being able to park it too. Most ordinary people rode the bus or the subway or some other form of public transit, but being able to drive was a luxury that only the rich could usually afford.

Mr. Caleb Donnelly was not rich, at least not by the usual metrics like net value or available liquid assets. His employment contract spelled out that anything he needed would be provided to him. Furthermore, if Caleb wanted something, all he had to do was ask for it, within reason.

He didn't usually ask. He had what he needed, and that was enough.

The office looked very much like any other: desks, computers, cubicle walls. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary, except that it was completely empty. No-one worked in this office, with the obvious exception of the one messy desk in the corner.

That was Caleb's desk.

This is where he came, every weekday. It was boring. It was a paycheck, kind of, but it was boring.

As Caleb approached his desk, he noticed an something odd; there was a white envelope, made of expensive paper, with his name engraved on it in flowing italic script.

Caleb opened it.

Dear Mr. Donnelly. Your services are no longer required here, for I have need of you elsewhere. There is a helicopter on the roof of this building waiting to take you to your next assignment.

It is a matter of some urgency. Do not delay. Do not call anyone. Do not talk to anyone.

Sincerely, your employer.

A helicopter.

Caleb sunk into his chair. This was most unusual.

"Whatever," he muttered to himself. "It's not the craziest thing I've done."

The pilot wasn't talking. Of course, he was a little busy trying to get a civilian helicopter through a thunderstorm. He was a little occupied.

"Are you sure you can't tell me where we're going?" Caleb yelled over the storm.

"No, sir. I'm under direct orders from the boss to not tell you."

Caleb rollded his eyes. Yes sir. No sir. Three bags full sir. This whole "not knowing where I'm going" bit was getting old.

Time passed.

Before he knew it, the wind died down outside and gave place to steady, beating rain. The copter was losing altitude, and headed toward a landing pad in a New England forest.

Sir Patrick Stewart was waiting for the helicopter, holding the umbrella from a Rolls-Royce.

Caleb stood there, in the rain, stunned for a moment. Sir Patrick Stewart, in the flesh, waiting for him.

"Come inside, before you catch cold. Nasty bit of weather we're having here."

Caleb obliged.

Inside, wherever it was, was a wonderful place. It looked like a production floor, except that there was no assembly line; just vast amounts of computers, milling and manufacturing machines, welders, the whole nine yards. And everywhere, there were people, all of them busy, all of them working on something.

"I see you've found my inventing studios." Stewart had piped up. "This is where the tools that you will be using are made. I have some of the best minds in the business here, poached from all the prime companies: Google, Tesla, Intel, Dassault Systemes, the whole set."

"What exactly do you have me doing?" Caleb asked.

"I'm getting to that. Let's make our way to one of the conference rooms."

They walked to the back of the invention floor, up a couple flights of stairs, and into a mostly bare conference room. The whiteboard contained a long list of calculations, including a fair number of Greek characters (as well as some that Caleb had never seen before.)

Stewart pushed a button at the top of the whiteboard and the contents vanished.

"I keep telling my engineers that they need to erase their boards before leaving the room." Stewart looked back at Caleb's vaguely stunned expression. "It's an e-ink board. They're not commerically viable, at least, not yet, but they are incredibly useful. One of my people from Amazon figured it out." He paused for a second, letting Caleb collect himself. "You're probably wondering what you're doing here."

"Yep."

"Sit down. This is going to take some explaining.”

Caleb sat. Stewart followed suit.

"One of the places that I recruit people from is the US Government. The people at the FBI and the CIA have higher mental and emotional standards than I do, and so if someone is fired for emotional or mental reasons, I'll arrange to interview them."

Caleb nodded, but with a wrinkled expression on his face. He wasn't sure what the point here was.

"I noticed a pattern, though: there were a lot of people who left the government because they were no longer welcome there. Some of them were gay. Some of them were bisexual. Transgender people in particular were at risk. They weren't pushed out, per se, but they were unwelcome, and people were unkind to them, and when they were offered a way out they took it."

"Sir, I'm gay," Caleb responded. "I was one of those people."

"Two things, Caleb. First of all, as long as you work with me, my name is Mr. Stewart. I have a knighthood. That's pretty cool. But I don't insist on being talked up to. Always speak your mind around here.

"Second, I'm gay. I knew you were gay when I hired you. I also know that you left the SEALS because your crewmates weren't comfortable with you around."

"I felt that, in order to win the conflicts out there, there had to be peace between us. I was disturbing that peace. So I left."

"A noble aspiration, to be sure, but ultimately not always true. Some of the people I work with best are the ones I spend the most time arguing with. They force me to strengthen my arguments, and they weed out my poor logic."

"True."

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them mulling over their respective thoughts.

"Well," said Mr. Stewart. "It's time that you met your teammates." He turned toward the door, to open it, and then paused. "But don't worry about introducing yourself -- they already know who you are." He opened the door.

Great, thought Mr. Donnelly.

A tall, Asian woman walked through the door. She was strong, her arms and legs toned with the kind of muscle that came from real-world practice, not time lifting weights. Her wrists were punctuated by matched scars, circling her arms like a pair of bracelets. Her face, while untouched by scar or blemish, told a tale of too many days being strong, and not too many days with enough to eat.

"This is Ms. Zhi Ling, long range tactics. Shotgun mics, sniper rifles, tin-can Wi-Fi antennaes, the whole set."

Caleb attempted to formulate a pleasantry, but failed, This woman could turn him inside out without thinking twice about it, and Caleb knew it.

She didn't bother with niceties either.

"You've seen women like me, haven't you?" she started. "In movies? Wearing skintight clothes and throwing hook kicks in heels? I'm not one of those people. If I want you dead, you'll be dead and you'll never see it coming."

Mr. Stewart cleared his throat and then turned back toward the door. Apparently he didn't see her statement as an issue.

"Ms. Sydney Port, logistics."

Mr. Stewart had opened his mouth to say more, but Ms. Port picked up where he hadn't left off and continued.

"My job is to keep all these crazy people grounded. They need to get somewhere? I find a way to get them there." She extended a hand to Mr. Donnelly. The hand was thin, lithe; clearly not accustomed to physical work. Her clothing, while not opulent, was well-considered and tasteful.

He shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. And it was. Ms. Port seemed like a very solid, practical beaver of a woman, shoehorned into a lightweight frame.

She sat down, across the table from Ms. Ling.

A projector clicked on in the conference room, putting a Skype video feed up on the wall. A man smiled back from the feed. He was probably around 25, with a scraggly beard and unkempt hair. Despite his grubby appearance, his eyes glinted with intelligence, making it clear that he saw and understood deeply.

Mr. Stewart sighed and put his head in his hand.

"Mr. Thomas, we've had this conversation before. I need you to actually physically come down here."

Mr. Thomas' smile disappeared. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do."

"Okay. I'll be there in a second."

Mr. Stewart sighed again and turned back to Caleb. "That was Mr. Brandon Thomas. He used to work for DARPA's computer science division, before he got kicked out for editing his personnel record without permission. He's kind of high maintenance; I had to talk him out of a caffeine IV a while back, for instance. As far as hacking and computer programming and all that jazz goes, though, there's no-one better."

Mr. Thomas came in and took a seat, putting his 48-ounce coffee mug on the table in front of him, along with two laptops.

"You can keep going, you know. I've got stuff to work on and I'll keep an ear on the conversation."

Mr. Stewart rolled his eyes and continued the introductions.

That is to say, he meant to continue the introductions, but the next person didn't show up for 20 minutes.

"I'm sorry everyone, I was watching a turtle eating watermelon and lost track of time."

For twenty minutes?" Mr. Stewart had a hint of sarcasm and a bit of steel in his voice.

"That and I didn't want to come. People make me nervous."

"Mr. Donnelly, this is the last member of your team, Ms. Alex Winn. Ms. Winn is a master researcher and analyst. If there's a pattern or a precedent, she'll find it.

Ms. Winn seemed comfortable above all, at least in a physical sense. She was dressed in soft clothes that prioritized feel over form: sweat pants and a t-shirt that was a size too big for her. She had a comfortable build too; she didn't worry about eating chocolate too late at night. She was heavyset, but not overweight.

"Now that we're all here, let's have a chat."

Ling threw a venomous glance at Winn.

"Some of my researchers have located a gay conversion facility with a reputation for cruelty. I need you to go in and blow the place wide open. I want proof of every human rights violation you can spot. This place needs to go out of business, permanently, but I can't do that without proof for the courts.

"Mr. Donnelly, we're having you pose as a gay man who has decided that being gay is just too much work. We'll implant you with a bone conduction communication device, so that we can hear you and you can hear us.

"Ms. Ling will be on the other side of a nearby hill, using an array of surveillance devices to keep an eye on whatever is going on inside. Ordinarily we wouldn't risk sending someone in, but the way the building is built we can't see perfectly clearly.

"While Mr. Donnelly and Ms. Ling are on the ground, Winn and Port will be running logistics and analysis. Thomas will be attempting to hack into their security systems, although I don't have much hope there. He'll also be prepping for your next mission.

"You all clear on your assignments?"

Everyone nodded, except Thomas, whose nod lagged a bit behind the others.

"Sounds good. Donnelly, Ling, you have a plane to catch."

"Ouch!" yelped Mr. Donnelly as a tech inserted his bone conduction headset into his head. "You told me that wouldn't hurt."

"I'm sorry, sir, I probably miscalculated your anesthetic dosage."

Donnelly and Ling were on a plane, halfway to their target in the Deep South. Mr. Donnelly rubbed his face and waited for the stinging sensation to fade.

He turned to Ling.

"Do you make that little speech to every new recruit that you work with?"

"Only to the ones that look like they might come on to me too hard. Being a lesbian is hard enough; being a beautiful, troubled Asian lesbian is even harder."

"You needn't have bothered; you're not exactly my type."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm gay."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence, neither quite sure where to go with that.

"Mr. Stewart said that you were fragile, a statement that I don't understand. Can you shed some light on the topic?"

It was a statement, an observation that struck Donnelly as odd. Fragile... what was that supposed to mean?

"I've been out of action for a while. I'm a little out of shape, I haven't been to a shooting range in ages... That's probably what he meant."

Ling nodded.

"I first saw action as part of a resistance cell in China," started Ling. Sensing a long story, Donnelly sat down and turned his chair to face her.

"My group was working toward a free China -- a China free of censors, free of bondage, free of the fear that comes when people just disappear in the middle of the night.

"None of us knew the real names of any of the others, and we all wore masks or shrouds when we met in person. We planned attacks against installations, humiliated the Red Army during parades... We once sabotaged a number of tanks the night before a parade, so that they would stop in the middle of the parade and not start again. We did our best to poke holes in the public perception of the government -- all seeing, all knowing.

"Then one by one, my crew started disappearing. As the weeks went by, fewer and fewer people showed up to meetings, until the rest of us decided to break up the cell and try to get out of the country. I went back to my parents, explained what had happened, and asked for help. They were proud of me, but they were scared, and so they gave me some money and told me to figure it out myself.

"I took a train to the southern border and escaped to Vietnam.

"Once I got there, I started looking for work. Vietnam was too close. I needed to get further awau. I had heard of America, and I started looking at once for a way to get here.

"Along the way, I got picked up by some thugs who sold me to a human trafficking ring. After a few hellish days in chains, I pulled and tore at my chains so hard that I completely wore through the skin and muscle on my wrists. That's where I got my scars."

Donnelly remembered seeing scars around her wrists, and had wondered where they came from. Now he knew.

"I escaped by killing one of the clients of the trafficking ring. I then took the key from his pocket, picked my locks with the wire from his glasses, and made a run for it. Stowed away on a cargo ship and ended up in San Francisco. Three years and a handful of gigs later, I got noticed by Mr. Stewart. He promised me a stable paycheck, a place to live, and a guarantee that I would never have to break the law again.

"And now I'm here."

Donnelly gave a low whistle. "That's some story."

"It's my story."

There was a click from the intercom and the pilot's voice sounded. "We're coming in for a landing -- buckle up."

They did.

"I'll be on a hillside about half a mile to the south," said Ling. "If you're in trouble, tap three times on your jawbone, and I'll come in and get you."

Donnelly thanked her.

If only things would be that simple.

"How are things going?" Mr. Stewart asked.

"Things are fine. The electroshock therapy is a bit painful, and the daily exorcisms are a bit much, but the group meetings aren't so bad.

"The food is awful."

"I'm sorry to hear that -- do you want me to drop a steak and some baked potatoes to you?"

"That won't be necessary -- I'll get over it."

Donnelly looked over his shoulder.

"I have to go. Private time is incredibly limited. I have a lot of time where there's no-one else in my room, but everything except the bathrooms are on a CCTV setup."

"Ok. Pay attention. Take notes. Get names from the staff, and pass them on to Ling. We'll dig up whatever we can find."

"Sounds good. Donnelly out."

The line went quiet.

This place was a mess. Everyone on staff kept intoning that this was done in love, but it was hard to believe when they strapped you into a tank full of water and ran electricity through it. Knowing the human psyche as well as Donnelly did, it was clear that a number of these people took a grim, sadistic pleasure in their work.

Donnelly kept getting names. Jim Douglas. Jeremy Bonzo. Zach Blaine.

He talked to people who claimed to counselors, but who had no real credentials and spent most of their sessions intentionally causing mental anguish.

He spent time in a room outfitted with strobe lights, surrounded by staff screaming at him, telling him that he was going to hell for being gay, commanding the demons that were controlling him and making him gay to come out.

The group meetings were painful in their own way. Donnelly was placed with a group of men that were near his age and social standing, who spent hours upon hours telling him of how much better it was being straight.

Things got worse on the third day.

"Hi Caleb. My name is Joseph, and I'm one of the administrators here."

"Hi Joseph," said Caleb. "Do you have a last name?"

"See, Caleb, I wanted to talk to you about that. Let's go to my office."

They went to his office, and Joseph locked the door behind them. Locked it with a key on the inside, so that Caleb couldn't get out.

"We don't like people who ask to many questions around here. You're not here to ask us questions; you're here to move on, to make a change. You don't need to know my name to accomplish what you want to here.

"For the next 24 hours, we will be placing you in solitary confinement."

"What if I don't want to go into solitary confinement?"

"Then we will sedate you and place you there anyway."

He went willingly.

Caleb woke from a deep sleep to Winn's voice in his ear.

"Wake up, Donnelly. Wake up!"

It had been several days since solitary confinement, and Donnelly was finally getting used to things. The staff didn't want him comfortable, and they continued to find ways to make him miserable, but he had made a friend of misery. He knew what he was doing, and he made piece with his lot for the time being.

"Wake up, Caleb! Crying out loud..."

"I'm awake, I'm awake. What's up?"

"We're almost ready to get you out of there, but there's one more thing that we need you to do first."

"K, what is it?"

"We need some of the computer records from the center. We've dropped a flash drive from a drone into the compound. You need to go find it, get into the administration offices, plug it into one of the computers, and do a couple of things to the computer. Then, once we have the files, we'll send some people in there to pull you out. Clear?"

"As mud."

"Get going, then -- you need to find that flash drive before the guards do."

The drive wasn't hard to find. The drone had dropped it in the northeast corner of the interior yard, and, made of metal, it shone in the light of the full moon. The administration offices also weren't hard to get into, at least not for someone of Caleb's considerable skills. This wasn't much harder than anything he'd had to do while working with his SEAL team; the security systems were adequate, but nothing special.

Once he was inside he tapped his mic and asked for the next set of instructions. The USB stick was actually a cellular modem, so that the home team could work on the computer from a distance without worrying about the internal internet security. Donnelly dug around the office until he found a sticky note with a password on it, under the mousepad; he signed in using the password, inserted the flash drive into a port on the back of the computer, and got to work.

He was almost finished when he heard the security sirens go off. He hit the last button, turned off the screen, and ducked under the desk.

The security team knew exactly where to find him, and it suddenly dawned on him: he hadn't gotten to a secure location before talking on his mic. He had what appeared to be a very involved conversation with himself, while being watched on CCTV by a security guard. They had then allowed him to access their office, get into their computer, and start working on it.

It was very bad.

Joseph, the administrator from earlier, was the one who rolled out of bed to take control of the situation.

"We have two options, Caleb. You can either tell me who you really are, and what you're really doing here, or we can stick you in cold storage until you are ready to talk.

"And before you decide, here's another bit of information. We found your friend, the Asian, up on that nearby hill where she has been keeping track of you. You have no friends, no help. You <i>will</i> tell us what you're doing, or you will never leave this compound."

Caleb's training snapped into play.

"My name is Caleb Donnelly, I have no rank, I have no serial number, and I am giving you no further information."

"So be it."

Joseph opened his office door and gestured for two of the guards to come in. He then opened his closet and pulled out a collapsible wheelchair with restraints. The guards forced Donnelly into the chair, and Joseph cinced the restraints down hard. He was then wheeled into the basement, where they had a room outfitted in a way similar to a morgue. They strapped him to one of the drawers, and then closed and locked the drawer shut.

He was restrained, locked up, inside a space not much larger than a coffin. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. In a space this small, his body heat would make the already-warm space unbearably hot.

He had no guarantee of food.

He had no guarantee of water.

He knew that there was a team coming in, but he didn't know when, and there was no-one listening on the other end of his phone now. Ling had been his link to the outside world, and she was probably in a similar pickle (if not worse).

And so Caleb Donnelly did the only thing he could -- he screamed, and he pounded the table as hard as he could, until the bruises on his hands were too painful to continue.

"We have to get them out of there now." Winn was insistent.

"I know, we're working on it," Mr. Stewart replied. "You've listened to the tapes; you know that things went sideways."

"Don't abandon them. I'll go in myself if I have to."

"I won't."

"I can't."

[fusrodie]

1~ 5 sal, 20~28 Kieran, 34 ~37 Evan.

So this one is… Very, very old. I’m sorry it took me so long to answer!

Get to know my character

for Sal:

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded?

Bruno means “brown”, Salvador means “savior”. I don’t exactly like the way it sounds, but I wanted a character whose nickname was Sal, then came the idea of making him Brazilian. I was between either Pablo or Bruno at this point, and Bruno sounds far more like a tupiniquim name. Not to mention, someone I admire greatly is called Bruno, too. Bonus that his name means “brown savior”. I mean look at him. *finger guns*

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

His appearance, though it’s actually both his biggest insecurity and his shield. While he doesn’t exactly stand out in the wasteland, pre-war Bruno was pretty far from the norm. Tattoos, jewelry, weird haircut, black clothes. He didn’t follow that style to stand out, not exactly, but it ended up becoming his weapon to fight against people’s mean comments and his ever present fear of not fitting in. 

03. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves?

His hair! He absolutely loves his hair, and this goes for both Companion!Sal and Sole Survivor!Sal. It’s a warm black, wavy, and it looks absolutely amazing because he takes such good care of it.

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical)

Sal doesn’t have a lover in his canon playthrough, but I can talk about Debra, his wife. Physically, he loved her eyes and always said they were very expressive. But he also loved her confidence and determination, and her will to help others, all things he’s never really possessed.

As for AU pairings, there is @trashofthewasteland Michelle - and to be quite honest, he loves everything about her. But physically, I think it’d be how petite she is. It was never something he noticed on women before, particularly because he tends to prefer women who are taller and stronger than him and look like they could kick his ass. It’s strange - the good kind - that despite her being so different from what he’d always admired, he thinks his tiny boss is sublime. He also loves her hands. Don’t ask me why, he just does. Personality wise, he loves that she is genuinely a good person. She seems to have all the kindness in the world inside her heart and he couldn’t do that if he tried.

Bonus Leilani: he finds Lani an absolutely fascinating person to begin with. He feels like he’s finally found someone who understands what he means when he says he thinks in colors. And that’s comforting even though he never thought he’d want to be understood on that regard. He also loves her calm demeanor. Physically? Her eyes. He could stare all night if she’d let him. And her hair.   

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type?

A bit of both? He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, so actively looking for sex isn’t happening often unless he’s in a steady relationship. He’s not the sort to look for one night stands. In the rare occasion that he does, he’s not ashamed of it, much less after the initial, possibly awkward stage has passed and it’s time to get down to business. He might get shy at first if it’s someone he really likes/admires, because he doesn’t want to screw things up. He wants things to be special, so he’ll be extra careful.

for Kieran:

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures?

Yes. Let me repeat that: yes. Kieran will tell you he was practically raised by a goat, and it’s true. Don’t ask me how goats survived in post-apocalyptic United States, but I’m calling it now, they survived, and Kieran’s family had a pet one. Her name was Myrtle. But farm animals were the only animals he had around growing up, dogs and cats not being very common in his village. Regardless, he loves all animals, though maybe not deathclaws or things that are bigger than him and have scales.

Radstags are his favorite, and he won’t kill a radstag if he has a choice. They are too adorable for that. He wants to have a pet radstag one day, but for now, he has D’Artagnan, a Maine Coon Cat. Sometimes they hunt together, go hiking together, and D’Artagnan is a big part of the reason why he lives so secluded - he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to that cat. So he’d rather live far from people and somewhere D’Artagnan could hide if faced with danger and Kieran isn’t nearby.21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear?

He’s afraid of tight/closed spaces, and ferals. That’s about it. Ferals he deals with easily enough - an arrow or a bullet, problem solved. Traps places and does his best to avoid them. The one time he got caught, he went into panic mode and doesn’t remember anything that happened after the first shot. Just remembers being back home, tending his wounds, with a lot of blood on his hands.

Regarding interiors/his claustrophobia, he just doesn’t go anywhere that looks cramped and doesn’t have a lot of windows unless he has company. Doesn’t matter if he knows there are things he needs inside. He just won’t go in.

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have?

I haven’t exactly decided on this, but in Skyrim, Kieran has a tattoo he got during his rite of passage with the Skaal - half a sleeve on his left arm. If he has a similar one in Fallout, I don’t know yet. But if there are two things Kieran has aplenty, it’s freckles and scars. You’ll find freckles all over his body, but it’s nowhere near Brandon’s level, for example. They’re mostly on his face and shoulders. As for scars, he has three claw marks on his face from a yao guai attack, claw marks on his back from a feral attack, bullet scars near his shoulder, and also one right between his right thigh and buttock. He got shot in the ass once. He has a bite mark on his ribs (mole rat, he can’t remember how it happened), and a half-moon shaped scar that begins just under his ribs on the left side, and goes down towards his crotch, that he got when he was with the raider gang. He seduced someone he shouldn’t have and they got a little, tiny bit angry when it became clear he didn’t want sex. They ran out of blade before they could do more damage, and he considers himself fairly lucky for it.

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved?

Kieran never went to school, and while he did have people to teach him things, for the most part he didn’t want to learn. He was taught how to read and write, but didn’t learn out of stubbornness and a lack of discipline from his parents. He’d be good with science, though. Maybe philosophy. Wouldn’t do his homework, but wouldn’t misbehave.

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like?

Fair warning, you would have a hard time getting Kieran to stop talking about them.

He wouldn’t shut up about how determined @njadastonearm Toni is - and how strong willed, and clever, and brave, and beautiful. I don’t think he’d ever vocalize it without some serious preparation beforehand, but she inspires him to try and do something out of his life. Here’s a woman that left her past behind, found herself a goal and went after it. That’s something he never had the courage to do, because he never managed to move on and still dwells in the past. Toni might be scared her past will catch up with her, yes, but she’s never let it stop her. He did. Being with her helps him learn a lot on how to do what he wants to do, rather than what he feels like he should be doing.

As for @mininuked Ahn - he sees that woman as a fucking goddess. A goddess of war, because he thinks she’s so goddamn badass. They butt heads sometimes, they learn together how to talk about their feelings, but there’s something about her that makes him feel like it’ll be worth all the trouble. She makes him want to try and that’s something no one had ever managed before. He feels like she gets him - they have the same interests, hobbies, they even have some of the same problems. She doesn’t have the answers, but it’s comforting to have someone to share the journey with. He’s used to being the rock for everyone - the one safe, solid thing people can count on. But with Ahn, for once he feels like he has someone strong and solid to support him.

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day?

Losing his sister. He never talks about it openly, and has never told anyone his side of the story. If pressed, he will actually give you his father’s, and consequently his village’s take on it: he sold out. His sister’s boyfriend found out about it. Kieran killed them both and dumped the bodies somewhere snowy and dark so they wouldn’t be found. Feral ghouls attacked him when he went back to check on the bodies for whatever reason.

The truth is quite a bit different: Saoirse’s boyfriend got in with a gang from Quebec - the same gang Kieran would ultimately join. His ticket in would be selling out the village, and the raiders promised they’d just rob them all blind but leave everyone alive. Kieran happened to witness a conversation in which said boyfriend revealed his plans - but after that, he has no idea what happened. He notices the two have disappeared one early morning and tracks them, only to find their bodies dumped in the aforementioned snowy, dark place, half buried and half eaten. He is then attacked by ferals who almost kill him. He reports back as quickly as he can, and is accused by his father of having killed his sister to take her place as the next village leader. Given he had some shady dealings with traders from nearby settlements, his reputation with his people wasn’t stellar at the time. Having someone as important as his father blaming him made it worse. He never tried to tell his version - he simply accepted his exile and left his family behind.

He still has nightmares with feral ghouls, and even though she was already dead when he got there, he swears he can hear Saoirse screaming sometimes. He feels like their deaths were his responsibility, and never forgave himself for it. This is why he lives in seclusion and, despite being a sociable, friendly man who loves talking to people, punishes himself by staying as far away as he can and never truly making friends.26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc?

I’m going to give more of a generic answer here because Kieran is a curious creature. He doesn’t know himself well, sexually in particular. Practically speaking, this means he will always put his partner first, and rarely stops to consider what he actually likes. That “I’m so used to giving and now I finally get to receive” meme? Kieran, only until his love interests (Toni, Ahn) came along he’d never had anyone care about his pleasure. Not even himself. So whatever his lovers want, he will accommodate and do what it takes to please them. It’s important to note that he does it because he likes to, though. He’s not putting up with anything, he is just a genuinely accepting person who respects people and tries his best to make them happy.

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it?

I have a hard time imagining Kieran getting arrested. Brandon? Hell, even Evangeline, but not Kieran. The only way he’d get arrested is if a) someone truly manages to piss him off enough for him to beat them up, or b) if a friend he really likes does something stupid and he plays along. 

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for?

Realistically, I’d say his looks. But if he had a say in it, he’d like to become famous for his cooking. Cooking show shot in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Treats his guests like Gordon Ramsay treats children. A delight, really.

for Evan:

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc)

Pre-war, Evangeline is addicted to baked sweets (cookies, cakes, pies) and noodles. Post-war, she refuses to eat anything pre-war for fear of getting seriously sick, but will cave if offered Sugar Bombs. She is also a big fan of mutfruit. Preston introduces her to mirelurk meat - and she loves it. She hates mirelurks, got seriously injured by one at some point; so eating the flesh of her enemies gives her a strange sense of accomplishment. Veni, vidi, vici, motherfucker.

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go?

She is and then she is not. She hates the idea of her death being meaningless, something stupid or unimportant. Because she gives it her all to try and make a difference, so if her death just slipped under everybody’s radar, that means she hasn’t done enough. There will come a time, though, when she will be satisfied with the work she’s done in the Commonwealth. Then it will stop having such a meaning - and her fearing death will be because she doesn’t want to let go of the life she’s managed to build for herself.36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life?

Not exactly. Sometimes her left hand hurts a lot, because she once managed to stick a needle inside it while sewing. Other than that, she managed to stay perfectly healthy even after leaving the vault. Somehow. 

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

She… Really likes to color code things. It annoys her a lot to see things being organized with no obvious pattern to it.

[sunshinelulusplatoon]

To Let The Past Go: Chapter 2

(Okay, got chapter 2 done. For anybody reading, sorry for the feels at the end! Also, if you haven’t read chapter 1, here’s the link: http://sunshinelulusplatoon.tumblr.com/post/154343280234/alright-finally-ive-got-this-started-for-those)

                                                   Chapter2: Confrontation

As a few days past, Lulu and crew were enjoying the sights of Atlanta. One day enjoying the zoo, another at the mall, and another exploring the airport they had arrive at. The city was huge new to them so the foreigners wanted to take in as much in as they could before leaving in a few days.

“Man, they got to have some turf wars arenas somewhere in this city. Even though we won I’m still itching for some battles,” Joey remarked on the second to last day of their trip, bored in the hotel. “Well, we can always look it up and see if there are any here,” Lulu laughed, pulling her phone out. Leaning over Lulu, Joey watched as she looked up to see where in Atlanta turf wars matches were held. “Here we go. It looks like the meeting point for turf wars is on the other side of the city. Marwick, Mary, you want to go?” Lulu asked, showing the phone to Joey as she looked at the two. “Not really. I’m kinda tired from the walk earlier,” Marcy replied. “Yeah, same here. I think I’ll just watch some TV,” Marwich replied, munching on a chip. Rolling their eyes at the two, the duo got up and grabbed their things before letting Camilla know where they were heading. “Be safe you too. Be back before dark,” Camilla replied. Nodding and waving goodbye for now, the duo left to find the meeting point.

30 minutes later, Lulu and Joey had found it as a large crowd formed around the area. Similar to Inkopolis, the point was a radio tower, advertizing other matches on a big screen that was going on.  “We will need two more people to make a team,” Joey commented watching the big screen to see a glimpse of the arenas as people passed by. “We can ask around. I’m sure there are a few who need team mates,” Lulu replied, watching as well. “HEY! Wasn’t expecting to see you two here!” A voice called. Starling the pair, they turned around to see a familiar face. “Kane! Wasn’t expecting to see you here either. Here for the same reason?” Lulu spoke up, giving Kane a hand shake. “Yep. Pretty much. Got restless at the hotel as my mom kept yapping on the phone about business with the producer,” Kane replied.  “Well, you showed up at a good time. We need two more people to play,” Joey replied. “Where are your friends?” Kane asked. “They were tired and didn’t want to come. Wanna join us?” Lulu replied. “Sure. Wouldn’t mind following someone else’s orders for once instead of giving my own,” Kane laughed. Giving nods and laughs themselves, Joey and Lulu welcomed Kane on the team.

Taking a few more minutes to find someone else, a team was made as the group headed to the tower to get their first match. Letting Lulu lead, the group learned and played on the new stages as they were winning matches and earning cash. “Got to say, not much different than home,” Joey remarked as the group took a break, waiting for a new member to join as the old one had to leave. “Yeah, same here. Other than different layouts, strategies aren’t much different to do here than to do up north where I live,” Kane replied. “What’s it like where you live?” Lulu asked. “Eh, it’s alright. Big house, lots of money, and fans always trying to spot my mom. The usual. My mom’s a famous singer but also the head of the music company she first started out at,” Kane replied. “Wow, that’s awesome. My grandpa’s also a music composer as well as I, Joey, and my other friends. Grandpa and I remix and Joey, myself, and my other friends are part of an instrumental band. We work for my grandpa’s company as well,” Lulu explained. “No way! Talk about coincidence! Except I’m not too much into music like my mom is. I’m more for turf wars. Want to go professional some day,” Kane replied, surprised by this realization that Joey and Lulu were musicians. “That’s okay. Go the way you want in life. Everybody is different. I’m sure your mom is proud of you. I have to ask, is she the black headed octoling woman I saw you leave with at the championship?” Lulu replied giving a nod. “Yeah, that’s her. I take way more after my dad. O negative with a RH factor of negative will do that to kids. People ask all the time as if I’m her son since I look like any old inkling kid. But she always gives a smile and says yes. That I’m her precious Kane Bloomheart and that she’s proud of me. She says I can be anything I want and she’ll support me all the way,” Kane explained rolling his eyes. “Where’s your dad?” Joey asked. “Dead. Been that way since I was six. Died in a car wreck,” Kane replied. “Aw man sorry about that,” Joey apologized. “Nah, it’s cool. My dad was awesome though. He knew how to write awesome music and produce it. It’s his company my mom took over. Though there have been some rough patches lately. Something about money missing but I don’t fully understand,” Kane replied, waving off Joey’s fears of offending him. “Man that sounds rough. Hope things are okay,” Lulu replied concerned. “I’m sure they will be. Mom’s probably just worrying too much. Come on, let’s find someone else to get a few more matches,” Kane stated, giving a fist pump. Nodding, the two perked up as the three found another person to play with and continued to play turf wars till the sun started to set.

“So when you guys leaving?” Kane asked, as they were leaving the place. “Tomorrow morning. Got a straight flight home,” Lulu replied. “Hey, same here. That way mom can get back to work when we land home. She’s such a workaholic,” Kane sighed. As they walked, they came to a coss-roads. “Welp, I need to head this way. It was nice getting to know you guys a little. Maybe we will meet again like this next year. Though be warned, my team will win next year,” Kane joked. “Man in your dreams!” Joey replied giving a smirk and laugh. “Hehe, we will have to see. We are always training so we may be stronger next time,” Lulu laughed. “Ha! Same here. Till next time, see yah!” Kane replied waving goodbye. Waving goodbye, the pair took down the road they needed to to hop on a bus and head back to the hotel. On a bus back, Joey commented, “You know, Kane reminds me of you a little.” “Really?” Lulu replied looking at Joey with a bit of confusion. “Yeah. You guys are energetic and fun to be around. You two also seem to get along well and work well together. Especially on the field. Kane was following your orders like it was nothing and he was keeping you well defended as you were setting your inkstrike off. Lulu giggled. “Yeah, he seems to fit in really well with us. Too bad he lives so far away from us. I wouldn’t mind playing with him on the team more,” Lulu replied. “Yeah, same here. Guy’s pretty cool,” Joey agreed.

Arriving at the hotel, the two settled in for the night as Joey, Marcy, and Marwick played some games they brought and Lulu was on the phone with her grandpa to check in. “Glad this week is finally done. Be happy to have you home tomorrow,” Octavio stated through the phone. “Grandpa!” Lulu sighed. Octavio laughed. “I can’t help it. I worry about you when you are gone for long periods. But I will have a nice batch of fresh Wasabi waiting for you when you arrive and you can tell me all about the trip as I find a spot for that shiny new trophy of yours,” Octavio replied. Lulu just giggled.

Early to bed and early to rise, the group packed up to head to the airport as Camilla got them checked out and the rental car started. Piling things in, everybody got in as Camilla drove off to the airport. 20 minutes later as Camilla turned the keys in for the rental car, the group had some time before the plane was to take off. “Why don’t you guys go look around and see if you guys can find anything else you want before we leave,” Camilla commented. “Sounds good,” the four replied before breaking off with waves to Camilla as they went separate directions in the airport. Looking around, Lulu found in the window of a gift shop a little fox plush. “Awww, Grandpa will love this,” Lulu commented to herself seeing the little plush. Walking in and finding a shelf with others like it, Lulu grabbed one and went to pay for it. Walking out with it in a bag, Lulu was about to head back when she overheard something.

“Brandon! I don’t care, just get it figured out! If anybody finds out about this, the company will be ruined!  I will not let my husband’s work go done like that!” A woman was slightly shouting into a phone. Turning around, Lulu recognized the woman from the back to be Kane’s mom; her black tentacles tied in a bun as she wore a business suit for women. Next to her were suitcases and what looked like turf wars equipment in cases. Obviously Kane’s, but Kane was nowhere to be seen. Slowly approaching to see if she was alright, the woman hung up the phone and sighed. “Uh Mrs. Bloomheart, are you alright?” Lulu asked. Startled by Lulu question, she turned around, giving a tired look. “Oh, child you startled me. Not many call me by my name. Just my stage name. How do you find out about that? You know what, never mind. Look I don’t have time for autographs dear. I’m sorry,” the woman replied, exhaustion in her voice. Lulu just stared, eyes widen as she got a good look of the woman.

Standing in front of Lulu was a face she had only seen in photos. Age some but the same. From photos that her Grandpa would only show a few times when he wanted to remember the past and let Lulu learn about her family. A face she had been looking for and had been missing from the family for years. A face she knew as her mother’s. Her mother Precious Entra. Tentacle color dyed from her natural orange, it was the same woman Lulu’s grandfather had spoken about to her. Lulu just stared, realization coming over that she had finally found her mother and the indications that went with it. The woman started to look irritated at her though. “Girl, what is your problem? I said I don’t have time for autographs. Please leave. I’m busy right now,” she spoke, snapping Lulu out of her trance. Shaking her head, Lulu asked. “Oh, I’m sorry. My bad but um…Is your name Precious?” Confused and concerned, the woman replied, “Yes…may I ask how you know that?” Lulu looked like she was about to tear up when she replied, “It….It is you! Oh cod, it’s really you! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Grandpa has been looking everywhere for you! Oh cod your really here!” The woman looked even more confused. “What are you talking about?” the woman questioned. “Mom…Mom, it’s me Lulu. I’m your daughter..don’t you remember me?  I..I know you must have had a reason for putting me in the orphanage but that’s okay. I found grandpa and we have been looking for you. You seem like you are doing okay now. Why haven’t you call Grandpa or anything? He’s been worried about you even though he doesn’t show it too well. We both have. Why haven’t you come home?” Lulu replied, tears falling down her face now.

Now the woman just stared at Lulu, shock, fear, and realization on her face. Shaking her head, she went to pick up the luggage before stating, “You have the wrong woman child. Now leave before you start a scene.” Shocked, Lulu replied, “But I know it’s you. I’ve seen you in Grandpa’s photos. Grandpa’s told me..” but the woman cut her off, “I don’t know what that old senile octopus has been telling you, but I don’t have anything other child other than my son. Now please leave me alone before I call the cops!” Walking off the luggage, Lulu stood there for a second before chasing after her. “Please wait! Just talk to me! I know we haven’t seen each other in years but I don’t care. Mom please! I just..” Lulu was shouting over the crowd and hand out trying to grab her arm when the woman swirled around and grabbed Lulu wrist, dropping the large luggage bag with a bang. Staring Lulu down, anger and aggression was on her face, scaring Lulu. “SHUT UP!!!! YOU GET THIS THROUGH YOUR HEAD RIGHT NOW! DON’T YOU EVER BOTHER ME OR MY FAMILY AGAIN! I ONLY HAVE ONE CHILD AND ONE CHILD ALONE AND I WILL NOT HAVE SOMEONE LIKE YOU OR ANYBODY ELSE CHANGE THAT. IF THAT ASSHOLE, SENILE, HYPERCRITICAL OF A KING AND FATHER OF MINE WANTS ANY MONEY OUT OF ME HE CAN KISS MY ASS. IF I HAD MY WAY YOU WOULDN’T EVEN EXIST SO BE LUCKY YOU ARE EVEN ALIVE YOU WORTHLESS HYBRID!!!! NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!” the woman hissed through her teeth before pushing Lulu away. Lulu just stood there, tears rolling down her face, trying to process what happen as the woman started to walk off again when a familiar voice spoke up. “Lulu?” the voice questioned. Turning around, Kane gave a confused expression. “Lulu, what’s going on here? Mom?” Kane questioned. “Nothing Kane. Just a confused little hybrid that just needs to go back to her country where she belongs,” the woman stated not even looking behind her, “Now come along Kane.” “Mom, why is she crying? Lulu what did she say to you?” Kane questioned. “COME ALONG KANE! NOW!” the woman hissed. “Just…go…Kane,” Lulu finally spoke, trying to wipe tears away but they just kept falling down her face. Completely confused, Kane followed behind his mother, looking back at Lulu as she stood there, trying process all that just happen. As they faded into the crowd, another familiar face came rushing up. “LULU!” Joey shouted, “Where’ve you been? Plane is about to take off!” That’s when he saw her face. “LULU! WHAT HAPPEN????” Joey questioned, confused on why Lulu was crying. Looking at him, Lulu couldn’t hold it back any more as she grabbed onto Joey and cried her eyes out. “LULU! WHAT HAPPEN???” Joey asked again, grabbing onto his crying friend as she went hysterical with sobbing. As faces started to stare at the two, wondering what was going on, Camilla and the others rushed up. “Joey! What’s going on? Why is Lulu crying?” Camilla questioned, confused and concerned. “I don’t know! She won’t stop crying to tell me!” Joey replied, just as confused. “LULU! LULU!” Camilla called out, brushing back her tentacles, and trying to get her attention. But Lulu just kept crying, none of her family at the moment knowing what just happen just a few short minutes ago.

[argorpg-blog]

CONGRATULATIONS and welcome to the crew of the Argo II, KAEL! The Gods have spoken: welcome aboard ANASFALEIA, known as VIRGIL VELASCO, with a faceclaim of JAMES REID. Please take a look at our checklist, and send in your account in the next 24 hours.

ADMIN NOTES: Reading your app, Kael, you took us by surprise. Virgil is not how we ever pictured Anasfaleia - and yet, we like it better this way! Your writing is so beautiful, and he is heartbreaking in the best possible way. We were particularly in love with the way you wove temptation into your app, posing Gaea as a very real (and personal) threat. Your extra plot arcs have the potential to bring a lot of depth to this group and our future plot, and we’re excited to see what else Virgil can bring! 

NAME/ALIAS: Kael

AGE, TIMEZONE, PRONOUNS: 20, GMT+8:00, He/him/his

ACTIVITY  & EXTRAS:  Between a thesis and my course, I might post around once to twice a week, as much as possible, but be real active on the Discord chat! Oh, and I’m down for all and any plots so you know,, ,, , , , wig.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED SKELETON: Anasfaleia

CHARACTER NAME: Virgil Andres Velasco

AGE & GENDER: 22, Cisgender male

FACECLAIM: James Reid, Brandon Perea, Lee Jong-suk (Name subject to change)

BIOGRAPHY:

ACT I: MORTAL.

You are no demigod.

Demigods are cloaked in legend, their fame or infamy written across the night skies as a testament to their greatness. There are songs and hymns of their deeds, written in stone for time to weather and grow. But from the whispers that follow you, it feels like the ichor in your veins was nothing more than water, the godhead in you merely a wilting flower, doomed to die at an early age. ( Hear them: dulled blade, tarnished silver, unwanted son. )

From the moment you were placed at your father’s doorstep, you became a liability, a fissure in the perfect mold of a marriage that he strived to keep—the duct tape and hot glue of his efforts finally breaking as you were brought to your home. He left, not even giving you a second thought, the mistake that he’d made a year ago a sight too harsh to bear. So you lived with your step-mother, who took you in all the same, and a half-brother that loved you as if nothing had ever mattered. Love was all you had known, but you knew you were different, a problem child in the family, only destined to break everything you’d ever known.

You were sent to a private Catholic school, where you’d learned about God and his love for humanity, where you couldn’t understand the words on holy text, where you thought you’d been cursed with stupidity your whole life. It was a disaster, you think, as you sat, making doodles on notebooks and looking at words floating off pages, not even bothering to make an effort anymore. Viciousness was a language you quickly understood, their words cutting you down as you failed quiz after quiz, the doodles on your notebook erased just as fast as they had appeared. You were never picked for anything, not as a date, not as a friend, not as anything but the facade of a boy as a laughingstock. Virgin Mother and Holy Father above, you prayed, as all sinners were wont to do, for guidance with all your heart. The nuns said that the Lord never heard selfish prayers, that he only dabbled in altruism, but you know you had to try and They had to listen—They owed you that much.

Burning passion never worked, so maybe reverence did—you got on your knees and prayed, prayed for blessings, to not be a disappointment, chanted Hail Marys and Our Fathers until your throat went dry. God was supposed to look at all Their creation as if it was good, so maybe he wasn’t part of Their plan, maybe he was a smudge, an unholy stain that would leave if bleached far enough. But you wouldn’t, you won’t. You will shake the heavens, and make God hear him, if you had to.

ACT II: DIVINE.

It was October, you remembered, that you were being followed. You were sure it was a stalker, someone who saw you as an easy mark, ready to stab you and take you wallet. The gaping maw that greeted you told you that you were definitely wrong. Death was a sure thing, with the flurry of claws and fangs greeting you, but you pushed, and you found only yellow dust on the palms of your hands. You told your step-mother, when you came home limping, fear and worry in her eyes. You grinned and laughed it off, the nonchalance on your face standing firm, as if the claw marks on your arm hadn’t faded yet. ( Hear it: godling boy, divine morsel, golden blood. )

The next day, your father came home.

Maybe that wasn’t right. It was another man, with a crisp tie and a purpose when he walked, far from the sullen man and dead eyes that seemed to greet you during visitation. Pack your things, he said, we leave in an hour. You looked to your mother—step-mother, and she only could give you a smile, and a pat on your cheek. Be brave, bunso. You can do this.

It wasn’t long before you had your things: a leather jacket gifted to you on your fifteenth birthday, a pair of boots from your brother, a silver ring from your mother, a picture of your family during Christmas, baubles of no real value to anyone but you. Maybe the place where they’d stick you was going to be comfortable, with a padded cell instead of cold rock. Maybe you could call Dante, your brother, once in a while after you were all better. Maybe it was going to be a surprise family trip, somewhere warm and sunny with lounges and tanning lotion. The world was full of maybes, and it seemed like you were going to find out what they were.

You counted twelve hours, from the flight to the cab ride. You asked where the two of you were going. Long Island. A campgrounds full of people. Somewhere safe. So you thought of the two of you in a tent, living off s’mores and hot dogs, looking up at the stars. It was a childish dream, foolish for someone of your age, but you didn’t have many things left to you but your hope, and you were going to be damned if someone took that away from you.

In your dreams, there is a woman, as beautiful as the day is bright. She looks at you with curiosity, a cracked chalice in her hands. There is an eternity in her eyes that you cannot comprehend; maybe it was weariness, maybe it was sadness. She does not speak to you when you talk, nor can she hear you, her radiant form flickering in and out as you try and reach out to her. You can hear her voice almost, barely above a whisper, but clear. Be safe, Virgil. Be safe.

ACT III: DEMIGOD

You are a demigod. But you’re not so sure.

Greek myths walk the halls, children with divine blood walking down the campgrounds with bows and blades alike. You are nothing like them, with only perfect skin and wounds that knit faster than they open. They are your family, Chiron said, and you will grow to love them. But you walk into the Hermes cabin, with bodies packed into each other, and you can see no love, only desperation. Desperate voices crying out for parents, for a place to stay, for anyone to hear their prayers. ( Hear yourself: I am worth more than this. I am. I am. I am. )

The other campers laugh at you, the way a foot stumbles during practice, or the way arrows miss the mark in front of you, but you wipe your tears  in secret and try again. You are born from divine blood, Olympian blood, and you are more than what they say. You learn the art of bravado and biting insults, accompanied by thick skin to defy their insults. For years, you burn your meals, giving reverence to the gods, and begging them to claim you. You talk to Eros, to Aphrodite, to every Charity and Season and Muse that they would choose you first and claim you in front of the camp. Maybe then, you would have the chance to prove yourself for all you’re worth, to prove them wrong with a triumphant smile on your face.

And you got your wish.

It wasn’t long before your mother claimed you, youthbringer to the gods, a flash of a wine-glass above your head and everyone thought they knew who you were. A child of a minor goddess, with no talents or traits to give him any notoriety, given too late when the best of them had fallen to the Titans. He was a Band-aid to a problem that the gods made themselves, only serving to further the interests of a dying goddess, and the immortals around her. He was cannon fodder, a fourteenth wheel. He was going to let them all down. He was a snake, a traitor in waiting for the Earth Mother. He was useless, unwanted, unworthy.

Did Achilles not beat his chest, nor did Atalanta call for men to best her? Demigods were called to rise above, so why shouldn’t you? This was a challenge in wait—your first quest, prophesied to bring greatness to all who partake in it, and you will master yourself and come out on top. The Earth Mother may look down upon you, as the Greek demigods do, but you will prove yourself, you will be better than any of them.

However, a voice creeps into your head as you board the Argo II: ruin, ruined, ruination. The worthless child of a worthless immortal, able to do not even the least of what his companions can do. The bravado you had built begins to give way, as you watch them all, heroes in their own right, embarking on a quest to save the world. A few days in, you turn into a silent observer, dealing with minor things: polishing Celestial bronze when you are wont to do, and leaving food for pegasi that return.

You will be better than any of them, the first of the Greeks, you whisper under your breath, a promise, a prayer.

But the voice whispers back: Perhaps. The first to turn. The first to leave. The first to fall to the Earth Mother.

FATAL FLAW/DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC: ανασφάλεια

The gripping insecurity at the back of his mind never stops, hounding him as he walks the Argo II. Virgil has always felt out of place, almost a beat behind other demigods in terms of his skill and experience, always striving to catch up, but always just a ways behind. Trying hard comes as second nature to him, and so does his hypercritical eye, whenever he fails at something spectacularly, his thoughts growing black as he tries to redo and replay scenes of failure over at his head as he hides behind his well-constructed facade. Perfection is an absolute that he’s learned to love and loathe, never being enough to reach it, but always tasting the slightest drop when he comes close every time.

EXTRAS:

POWER BREAKDOWN

THE GENERAL:

Virgil can alter appearances at will, but he can do it to himself better. For himself, it’s usually a few minutes of concentration to alter minor features, such as add or subtract crow’s feet or a few freckles on his face. It takes longer to alter important things, such as eye and hair color, or even the whole face on himself. For other people, he can do it as long as he focuses really hard, and thinks about it well. It takes around an hour to fully transform someone’s face to the exact specifications, but portraits or references significantly reduce

Changes usually are irreversible, which make it harder for him to maintain a semblance of identity, but are usually helped by using prior pictures of the subject.

Unknown to him, he can change the age of someone he comes into contact with, partially or fully, sapping or retrieving their youth. This is a sort of healing that being a child of Hebe does, but he adds a few hours, or years, depending on the length of contact, while shortening his own. This presents itself as mild to severe exhaustion, depending on the length of time he has with the afflicted.

THE PHYSICAL:

As a child of Hebe, the goddess of youth, Virgil is blessed with a wellspring of youth wherever he goes, being resistant to both sickness and the detriments of age, since his cells are in a state of perpetual health. While he does have the ability to heal faster than the average demigod, enough hits will send him to a state of rapid degeneration, deteriorating quicker than the average demigod. Sufficient ambrosia or nectar will always restart his systems and get him to rapidly heal, after some rest.

Whenever he “heals,” he actively shortens his lifespan, transferring whatever energy he has left into a certain body. This manifests in dark circles and a loss of pallor every time he transfers some of his youth to a patient. Massive transference of youth gives him a few wrinkles, and permanent loss of melanin in the hair, and may result in lasting long-term effects, though he’s never tried it, nor learned to do it before.

HEADCANONS

i. godhead

You have a brother. Mortal, vulnerable, but better than any demigod you’ve come across—Greek or otherwise. You would give your godhead up for him, the endless sheen on your skin, to protect the frayed edges of a grey sweater and the wrinkles on his godawful suit. It is a shame that he wasn’t a demigod, you think, that a flickering flame can have an immortal mother instead of a star burning bright, but there is no use in wondering. You know you will defend him, leave him the last burning vestiges of your godhood so that he will live far longer than you will. It will be your last wish, a final protection. You may prove to be useless to everyone else, but not to him. Not ever.

ii. prayers.

Once, you thought Aphrodite was your mother. It came up, a question during visitation, when you asked your father what your mother looked like. Beautiful, he said, like a model in one of those runways. So you prayed, and prayed, and prayed, until you came across doves that wouldn’t even look at your way and roses that seemed to close whenever you passed by. But you learned, through portents and prayer and a prophecy, that you were not the child of an Olympian, but rather a forgotten goddess, a cupbearer in the corner of the skies. You know your mother now, and you love her as a child does, but you could not help but think of what could have been if she weren’t.

iii. better.

There is an uncertainty in every demigod unclaimed in the Hermes cabin, unknown children and the children of esoteric gods that dot the halls, and you know them all. Children of Nemesis and the weighing of their scales, children of Thanatos and their peaceful eeriness, even the children of Deimos, with their shark grins and pointed teeth. You know their names and their stories, when the twelve cabins stay blind to all of you in the rafters of the Hermes cabin. There is a righteous anger sometimes, whenever shame does not come to visit, burning inside your chest. You hate the gods, your fellow campers, as you watch everyone scoff and laugh at the group—you are demigods too, and you all deserve better than scraps of acknowledgement and backhanded compliments.

TIDBITS: will kill for dark chocolate but has an itchy throat a lot because of it. knows all disney songs up until the new ones because he hasn’t learned them yet. has a pair of boots and a leather jacket as a present from his brother always on hand. knows english, tagalog, fifth grade mexican and some vague ilocano. good with his hands, but better with a shortsword or a dagger. hates long range fighting after being nailed overhead by a water balloon by an apollo camper. loves the word soliloquy, since it looks and sounds ridiculous to him. modeled once for some bulgarian line of clothing, but refuses to talk about it.

AESTHETIC: the greyness of rainy days hidden by lights in the living room. looking at the mirror, seeing only imperfections where there are none. lipstick stains on skin, rubbed off from a mistake you’d made. heat in a leather jacket, and the stubbornness of not taking it off. sweat pooling on your brow, from hard work and exhaustion. louder whispers in the back of your mind. the lingering heat of body warmth and the emptiness that comes with its absence. a promise, a prayer, a proposal. an eternal photograph, never fading.

TRAITS:

(+) thick-skinned, determined, amiable, observant

(-) guarded, deceptive, critical, blunt

CONNECTIONS

i. pthonos — the motivation

You are a lightning rod for their ire, more often than not and you bear it better than most. Perhaps it was the years of insults and mockery that helped you cope with their anger towards you, towards the world, towards Ares. Backing down was never an option back then, not from the way they laughed at you or their vicious tongue, and it sure wasn’t right now. You exchange words like sparring partners, and leave like embittered enemies. Their hate fuels you, and you just know that the first moment you get, you’re going to show them how wrong they are.

ii. amarus — the righteous

The anger that they feel towards the gods strikes true, and has caught your attention—no demigod would ever say it out loud, but you know that they are right. Between petty grievances, blood feuds, and the way that they treat others like pawns in their celestial games, it’s a wonder that the gods haven’t torn themselves asunder. You’re never one to discount a good idea, and you’re keen on hearing what they have to say, Roman or not.

iii. cynici — the question

Children of Aphrodite, or of Venus, always leave you with a copper taste in your mouth. They talk to you about beauty, about manipulation, about bending wills with the bat of an eye, and you could only wish you could have the power that they have. But they’re cut from a different cloth, all hard lines and cold gazes, as if love has done them a personal offense. Maybe it’s because they’re Roman, all about order and structure, but you want to ask them what’s made them so disenchanted.

PLOT POINTS

i. guidance of the earth mother.

I’d like an arc where the Earth Mother tries to wear him down by her whispers, telling him that all of their effort is futile, and to join her in bringing down the gods of Olympus. It would be fun to see, since the Greeks aren’t exactly on the best terms with the Romans, and to solidify the thoughts of him not being enough for this quest. The fallout would be amazing as well, since a fracture between the groups would be an unimaginable wrench in their plans.

ii. legacy of the legion.

Roman demigods put stock in work and dedication, he thinks, not the way your blood is made, not whose god you’re sired from, and to Virgil, that makes him envious of what they have in Camp Jupiter. From the lives they built inside New Rome to the praetors that walk the halls, he feels like there, he would be taken seriously. I’d like to see him try and connect with the Romans, in a way that would at least make him use his grit and dedication. Don’t trust Romans, but he’s sure he can make some exceptions.

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