#like even though his morals have changed a bit. that complicated “split” part of him is still there.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

so another thing about malorn and malistaire being parallels i just thought about. does anyone who knows a lot about malistaire know if it was addressed how he treated his students during the course of Malistaire's decline? like, im under the impression that this was a gradual change and that malistaire still more or less kept his job as a professor before he destroyed the death school, did his relationships with his students change at all? im asking this because i know Zero things about malistaire (im booed off the stage) and if im right about my hunch on how malistaire's reputation as a teacher was affected then i can clearly see how malorn's would play out if he was going down the same path. im genuinely asking here, Malistaire Enthusiasts, assemble like the Avengers and help me out with this one

[zwy01]

Blood Moon AU!! Part 1 - Nobles

Time for a second major AU yayy!! I’m still working on Millennium AU as usual, though I want to get started on another one that’s been on my mind since years ago but never really got the chance to put on paper.

So here we are. I’m calling this Blood Moon AU. The nobles and werewolves basically have a race swap in an almost brand new setting. Lukedonia and werewolf island still exist; it’s the characters that have changed.

All characters reference their canon counterparts to various degrees. Some are similar or even near identical to the original, while some are vastly different. This could apply to names, looks, personalities, heritage/family, moral alignment… etc. It’s gonna be fun! I’m going to let myself get crazy with this and change things up quite a bit, haha.

As for the story. To be completely honest, at this point I just want to start off this new AU as more of a simple artistic approach. Right now I’m much more interested in designing and drawing the characters rather than writing the story itself. Maybe I’ll come up with something much later but it won’t be nearly as complicated as Millennium AU, and it’ll be fairly straightforward. Even then, I don’t want to rush it so that’s for the future. If I end up liking this new AU more than I do right now, maybe I’ll give the story an honest shot and turn it into more of a long-term project, but time will tell.

(Fyi “Noblesse” does not exist in the world. Too early for details but they either never existed, are a now permanently extinct special type of noble, or they simply peaced out and ditched Earth and returned to their special heavenly realm… etc. Honestly doesn’t matter. In this AU’s setting, they are absent. “Raizel” and his brother do exist but they’re both human. Actual normal human beings, with a normal life, currently students at a normal high school, stuff like that. Just your average human. The trio are also unmodified normal human beings. They are scattered across the world and never meet each other. Basically, unlike their canon counterparts, their existence is minimal and contribute to almost nothing in this universe. It’s weird, I know! That’s just how this AU is set up)

I’m going to split the noble and werewolf characters into two parts. Doing the (originally werewolves) nobles first! Posting the werewolves in a future post aka. part 2.

The characters!

Lucretia Natalina “Lunark” Drosia: Leader of the Drosia Clan. Kendrick’s twin, and on-and-off lovers with Julius. A rather carefree woman who is primarily interested in having fun, and shows little to no concern for the future of Lukedonia as a whole. When it comes to her people, she is a decent Clan Leader and manages her family efficiently. Lucretia’s efforts only apply to her clan, and her interests in other noble affairs are almost nonexistent. She has a habit of ditching meetings and whatnots. Sometimes, she even tries to ignore the Lord’s summons but ends up going anyway because her lovely daughter makes her show up. The only thing that can get Lucretia’s blood pumping with true passion is an offer to spar. Lucretia is an excellent fighter. People have to be very careful to not interrupt her fights unless they want to unleash her wrath, because she hates it when people invite themselves into her business. She also likes to flirt with her opponents during spars. Lucretia has a bit of a weird relationship with Julius, who is the father of her daughter. They seem to have positive feelings for each other, but that’s only when both of them are very bored and have nothing better to do.

Kendrick Tian-Chen “Kentas” Ru: Leader of the Ru Clan. Lucretia’s twin. A prideful, stubborn man who believes that the stronger should rule the weak. Like his sister Lucretia, he likes to fight and enjoys a good spar. Sometimes, people can choose to settle a quarrel with Kendrick by offering to spar with him and he would gladly accept. You can trust him, because he’s a man of his word. No more grudges, no hurt feelings. Done. In a way, he’s quite simple. Unlike his sister, Kendrick does care about the future of Lukedonia. He has a strong moral code of his own, but that can be overridden by his belief of submitting to the strong. That is why Kendrick is extremely loyal to their Lord and never questions him even if the latter makes some controversial decisions. As of now, Kendrick has no children.

Marcus Duruvan “Maduke” Siriana: Leader of the Siriana Clan. Erica’s older brother, and the Lord’s advisor. The only person who truly has everyone’s best interests at heart. You can say he’s the most “good person” leaning guy in this entire AU. Marcus is quite worried about the future under their Lord’s reign. Life is pretty comfortable inside Lukedonia, which is by itself very isolated from the rest of the world. However, Marcus foresees the destruction of planet earth if no one stops the Lord, since the latter doesn’t care about other races and is only concerned with the prosperity of nobles. Though, he doesn’t want to overthrow the Lord and instead wants to convince him to step away from his current path of darkness. He believes there is still hope. Simultaneously, Marcus is secretly gathering followers and supporters who all share his beliefs and formed his own organization. Together they work to transport resources out of Lukedonia and deliver them to humans and werewolves in need because the Lord refuses the share.

Marcus is struggling to plan for the future of the Siriana Clan, in case the Lord gets tired of him and decides to kill him one day for “meddling” too much, because his younger sister Erica is insane and cruel which makes her the worst possible candidate for the next Clan Leader of Siriana. Marcus loves her, but also fears her. He doesn’t know what she is capable of. Marcus is trying to look for ways to bypass his sister and hopefully be able to hand over both his position and Soul Weapon to another pure-blooded Siriana who isn’t his sister.

Marcus had a son, but he was assassinated sometime after his coming-of-age ceremony and now Marcus is once again childless and without an heir. To this day no one can figure out who the culprit is.

Erica Siriana: Marcus’ younger sister, and next-in-line for the position of Siriana Clan Leader. Wife of Lord Maximilian, and mother of Ashlynn. Erica is a ruthless, bloodthirsty woman. She is actually the person who orchestrated her nephew’s assassination. She made sure he was killed, then got rid of his killers, whom she sent, with her own hands. No one is going to suspect a thing and they’ll never find out no matter how hard they try. Erica did this to eliminate brother Marcus’ heir so she can regain her position as first-in-line. She’s been after her nephew ever since he was born, but waited for two whole centuries before doing the deed. To Erica, she’s just getting back what she’s entitled to, which is the full power, control, and privileges of a Clan Leader. Marcus is trying to be discreet but if Erica ever finds out that her brother intends to bypass her and give his position and Soul Weapon to someone else, she might actually just kill him and take over the clan immediately. Erica is truly a terrifying, power-hungry woman who will do anything to reach her goals. She does not care for anyone aside from her daughter Ashlynn and husband Maximilian, whom she genuinely loves. As messed up as Erica is, she is capable of being very loving and committed to whom she treasures. She and her husband are absolutely addicted to each other and he would let her do anything her heart wishes for, even if she continuously breaks Lukedonian laws.

Vivienne Branwen Di Ashlynn: Name means “lively and blessed raven of dreams”. Daughter of Erica Siriana and Lord Maximilian, and the next Lord of Lukedonia. On the surface, Ashlynn isn’t as straightforward as her mother despite their similarities. Ashlynn is just as ruthless and bloodthirsty as Erica, but the former puts on a facade in front of her people and pretends to be a sweet, altruistic future Lord. The perfect angel princess. And she’s very successful at it. Ashlynn is energetic, talkative, and empathetic around her subjects. She always tells them about how she wants her father to teach her power so she can protect not only her subjects, but also people around the world so they don’t have to suffer from hunger and war. In reality, she doesn’t care about any of them and she honestly thinks of them as a burden. They’re nothing more than cockroaches to her, and she’s only doing this because she enjoys deceiving her people and pulling on their puppet strings. She welcomes the love and respect they give her, and at the same time pities them for not knowing better, for she’s had them fooled this entire time. The world is her stage, and she’s the center. Ashlynn only drops her act and returns to her true self around her parents, who not only tolerate, but also accept and even encourage their daughter’s behavior. Well, their entire family is insane. Erica and Maximilian are totally overindulging Ashlynn while being completely aware of the fact that she is just as insane as them with no attempt to correct her, because she’s their little princess and hey, if she wants the world, then they’ll give it to her. Like Erica, Ashlynn doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t her family. Ashlynn loves both of her parents to the moon and back, and she might as well kill anyone who dares to speak ill about either of them. No one is allowed to disrespect them in front of her. Not a single word.

Ashlynn has a crush on Dominic and wants him for herself one day.

Eutimio Friedrich Di Maximilian: Name means “good-spirited and peaceful ruler of the greatest”. The current Lord, husband of Erica Siriana, and father of Ashlynn. Maximilian firmly believes that nobles are the most supreme beings to exist on this planet, and that they have a right to rule over every other species. Humans, werewolves, whatever… well, for now he’ll let them be for as long as they’re still useful. He won’t hesitate to unleash his power on them if he loses his patience. From a world view, Maximilian would be categorized as “evil”, but he doesn’t think of himself as such. In fact, he believes that he is doing good for his people, who are his priority. Which is true from a certain perspective, especially to the nobles who share their Lord’s vision. To them, Lord Maximilian is the greatest Lord in all of noble history. To others who strongly disagree with him, he is the most terrifying and coldblooded Lord in existence. Maximilian is only concerned with the prosperity of Lukedonia and doesn’t quite welcome the idea of distributing resources with the rest of the world. He doesn’t want the nobles to simply exist alongside other species; he’ll make sure the nobles are on the very top of the food chain. Everyone else is irrelevant and they’re all at his mercy. Generally, opinions are very divided and you either side with him, or you don’t. Life is very, very comfortable inside Lukedonia, and indeed, to some nobles, that is all they care about. Those with more empathy see beyond the obvious and are concerned with what goes on outside Lukedonia. The thing with Maximilian is that despite showing neither mercy nor any sign of remorse for his deeds in the outside world, he is actually quite lenient and loving with his subjects. You can say he has two extreme sides to him. He’s very kind to his nobles, but only them. He doesn’t mind if Lucretia skips meetings; he’d let her be. Or when his servants make mistakes, when someone does something offensive, etc... it’s alright, no big deal. In a way, Maximilian’s Lukedonia is teeming with freedom like never before under the rule of his predecessors. This is where Marcus comes in. He is just nervous and overthinking about getting killed if he says the wrong thing, but in reality Maximilian doesn’t mind voices of objection. He’s not going to give anyone a treason sentence or kill them for saying what they really think of him. You can tell him you disagree with him, he’ll just shrug it off and laugh. Say all you want, he knows you’re trying to persuade him, he doesn’t care. He’ll just keep doing what he’s always been doing. Maximilian knows he’s the Lord, and ultimately it is his decision to make. Just don’t let Ashlynn know, because she’ll come after your head if she figures out that you had doubts about her precious Daddy.

Maximilian is a very loving husband and father to his family. He is obsessed with them just as much as they are obsessed with him. On a personal level, while Maximilian himself doesn’t crave for the blood of his own kind like his wife and daughter do, he doesn’t mind letting them do whatever they want for the funs and thrills. Erica and Ashlynn are free to break the law all they want. Though, they’re smart and strategic with it and don’t commit murder in broad daylight. Still, Maximilian is aware of his beloveds’ occasional killings, and he lets them be. He’s the type of person who would let them burn down the entirety of Lukedonia to nothing more than a pile of ash if that is what they wish to do. It’s no big deal, he’ll just rebuild Lukedonia to be even grander and more luxurious than before! To Maximilian, they are the only two existences in this world to come before Lukedonia. How sweet.

Zivon Tradio: Leader of the Tradio Clan. An elderly sorcerer who is quite the hard worker, and spends most of his time studying existing spells as well as coming up with new ones. He’s from the previous generation of nobles, and he stayed behind because he’s just too damn cool to die. Just kidding, his love for magic is why he’s still rocking it. It’s still too early! Zivon’s ultimate goal is to push the boundaries of noble magic and to create what has never been seen before. A true spectacle to behold. Zivon is one of Lord Maximilian’s favorite subjects and the latter even has an entire wifi system built and set up in Lukedonia as a gift just because the former has the hobby of streaming and likes being an “influencer”or whatever the humans call it. Zivon is quite an internet celebrity and Lord Maximilian is supportive of his work of “spreading superior noble influence over humans”. Zivon is also Princess Ashlynn’s tutor, who calls him “teacher”.

As of now, Zivon has no children.

Julius Loyard: Leader of the Loyard Clan. On-and-off lovers with Lucretia. An elegant man who is well-received by his fellow nobles. Julius is a man of few words and usually doesn’t express himself beyond the bare minimum required to be polite. While Julius does admit to enjoying the lavish lifestyle that was a gift from the Lord to all nobles, he is beginning to see why this is a problem for beings outside Lukedonia and starts to sympathize with them. It isn’t easy for him immediately to give up what he’s been used to all these years, but he’s starting to steer away from that lifestyle in support of the less fortunate. Julius was one of the first members to join Marcus’ secret organization of smuggling resources out of Lukedonia to help those in need. Currently, he’s responsible as the leader of the food distribution sector. In his free time, Julius is a jewelry designer and Lord Maximilian is a fan of his work.

Julius’ heir is his son whom he had with Lucretia. He is fond of her but doesn’t entirely agree with her rather carefree personality. They seem to have positive feelings for each other, but that’s only when both of them are very bored and have nothing better to do.

Giada Agvain: Leader of the Agvain Clan. Like Kendrick, she is extremely loyal to their Lord. She’s been by his side since the beginning, and they are childhood friends. Everyone knows that Giada used to feel one-sided love for the then-Maximilian and now Lord Maximilian, but what they don’t know is that she is still in love with him. Well, maybe it’s better for them to continue to believe that she has gotten over him. It’s not like he’ll ever like her back anyway, and you’ll never know what Princess Ashlynn will do if she finds out that anyone other than her precious Mommy is “coveting” her beloved Daddy. Giada is one of the few people who knows about Ashlynn’s true nature despite the latter’s angelic facade. While Giada does love Max on a personal level and is loyal to him, she doesn’t agree with his actions. She is also one of the first members of Marcus’ organization. Currently, Giada is responsible as the leader of the money distribution sector. In her free time, Giada tends to a small spider lily garden.

Giada’s heir is her daughter whom she had with an unnamed noble woman.

Dominic Raffaello “Dorant” Blerster: Leader of the Blerster Clan. A calm and rational man who remains unfazed in extreme situations. He is also the youngest to become Clan Leader, because his mother and predecessor saw so much potential in him, she passed over her title and Soul Weapon to him as soon as he came of age. Dominic pretends to be fairly neutral, and most people think he isn’t dedicated to anything or anyone, but he’s actually Lord Maximilian’s right hand man in the shadows. On the surface, he is simply Clan Leader of the Blersters and does a good job of managing his clan. When he no longer needs to act as Clan Leader, Dominic goes to the castle and reports everyone’s moves to his Lord. Dominic is actually a member of Marcus’ secret organization and oversees the medical distribution sector… as a double agent. His allegiance is with the Lord and he’s only there to watch what everyone else is doing to report back to his master. That includes a long list of who is working with Marcus, what resources they have been smuggling out of Lukedonia, who is on the receiving end… etc. Every. Single. One. So Lord Maximilian is very much aware of Marcus’ “betrayal” thanks to Dominic. Curiously, Lord Maximilian tells Dominic to just let them be. Perhaps he finds this to be amusing. Nobody knows what he’s thinking. Dominic, on the other hand, is in total awe of his Lord for his immense generosity for the “traitors” even though they clearly don’t deserve it.

Dominic doesn’t know that Ashlynn has a crush on him.

As of now, Dominic has no children.

Undine Mergas: Daughter of the leader of the Mergas Clan. A woman with a short temper who is also easily provoked. Undine’s father, the current Mergas Clan Leader, believes that she is unfit to become Clan Leader due to her personality and tendencies to boss the knights around instead of being a responsible and respectful leader like she is supposed to, but he is hopeful that she will change one day. Undine is best friends with Mimi and the two of them are almost always seen together. On one of her travels to the outside world, Undine met a human named Michael Travis Osborn by chance and she has had a crush on him ever since. He’s pretty cute. Maybe the Lord will let her capture him and bring him back to Lukedonia, she thinks.

Mimi Elenor: Daughter of the leader of the Elenor Clan. A woman with a similar personality to her best friend Undine, but less impulsive and more calm. That’s why they get along and are best friends because they have much in common. Mimi has an older brother so she likely won’t become the next Elenor Clan Leader, but she’s fine with that. In fact, she’s glad she won’t become Clan Leader because all those responsibilities, hassles, sitting in meetings all day, blah blah blah… ew, just too much work. She just wants to have fun, so her brother better be competent so she won’t have to bother with her clan at all. Mimi, like Undine, also has a crush on Michael Travis Osborn. They chat about how cute he is. Both of them want to capture him and bring him into Lukedonia. They’re thinking about discussing this with the Lord. If Lord Maximilian hears about this, he’d approve of the capture and tell them to go ahead and enjoy themselves because of course he wants all of his nobles to get their hands on everything they wish for. Plus, these two remind him of his daughter Ashlynn so he’d be even more generous towards them.

Kushaal Kertia: Leader of the Kertia Clan. Cousin of Galileo. A respected fighter known for his immense speed and agility even amongst the Kertia. Kushaal is also honorable. He dislikes dirty fighting and is fairly open to acknowledging his own weaknesses and strives to become even stronger and faster. He has heard about a certain blonde werewolf warrior who is the fastest of his pack, and wishes to fight him one day. While Kushaal enjoys and supports the luxurious lifestyle given to him by their Lord, he believes that humans and werewolves could use some help from Lukedonia. After all, if they’re all gone, he’s not going to have anyone interesting to fight with anymore. Kushaal would love to spar with the werewolves, so he hopes that they’re doing well. In his free time, Kushaal likes to collect rare werewolf artifacts to display in his home because they feel familiar to him, for some odd reason.

As of now, Kushaal has no children.

Galileo Kravei: Son of the leader of the Kravei Clan. Cousin of Kushaal. A man who has a bit of an inferiority complex because his abilities seem to have hit a wall, and he can’t get stronger with his own strength. Galileo is probably going to get by just fine, even though he himself is more impatient than anyone in terms of wanting to gain strength. Other than that, no one really knows much about him since he tends to keep to himself. In his free time, he plays with his three supernatural pet aquatic snakes: Ramen, Ramyeon, and Lamien. Galileo has a huge love-hate crush on Kendrick, and people will tell you he’s both extra mean and extra nice to him. He sends him cheesy “let’s fight” love letters written on rose scented paper. Yeah. He’s totally in love.

And that’s it for now!

Again, very open to questions and discussion. Quite happy about my second major AU! While this post only touches the surface of what I have in mind, I have a feeling that I will grow to like this AU even more. Maybe I’ll even create brand new OCs specific to this AU lol.

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for future posts!

[carmenlire]

The Dead Lay Waiting

read on ao3

It seems like a nightmare but Magnus can’t wake up no matter how hard he pinches himself.

It’s a sight he never wanted to see-- Alec in his arms, blood pouring from him until the stench is thick enough to suffocate them, until Magnus can taste copper and his stomach roils.

Holding it together takes more from him than it maybe should, he thinks. Alec’s isn’t the first body he’s held as it went limp and cold and his husband’s eyes are from the first to have lost their light right before him.

Still. Something swirls in his gut and it’s black and putrid and Magnus, in all his overwhelming grief, already knows that the effects of his storm will be both catastrophic and stark.

The battle rages around them but Magnus doesn’t care-- can’t-- not when Alec’s heart is so weak he can barely feel the pulse even with his magic.

Without a conscious thought, he’s gathering his love as gently as he can and the magic that envelopes them is a dull shade of purple, his anger clashing with the gentleness he’ll always shower Alec with, even or especially if it’s the last thing he can do.

Magnus hears Jace yell, picks up on Isabelle’s sharp cry as he takes Alexander with him through the portal, but he pays them no mind. Alec is dead weight in his arms.

Stepping into his apothecary, it’s the work of a moment to summon a hospital bed. Alec’s shirt is in ruins, his thigh is mangled, the right side of his face deeply bruised.

His chest isn’t moving.

“No, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, taking a crucial moment to lean over his husband, to swipe a feather-light touch over his unmarred cheek. “Stay with me, darling. I need you to stay. I love you. I love you so much, my darling.”

Alec doesn’t answer because he can’t and the silence in the instant after those words fall like lead from Magnus’s lips is the worst moment of Magnus’s life. Alec always offers the words back-- even when he’s mostly asleep, even when they’re fighting, even when he’s not fully present, like it’s autopilot for Alec to tell Magnus he loves him, a pavlovian response.

Now there’s nothing and Magnus wants to scream himself hoarse.

His breath shudders. Feeling like his very bones are cracking under the gaping chasm of grief threatening to swallow him whole, Magnus can’t focus on anything but Alec’s heart.

The loft is preternaturally still as he brings a hand swimming in blue to his husband’s chest and feels for a thready heartbeat.

There’s nothing.

He gasps and it’s a horrid, desperate sound. He prods his magic deeper and-- there’s still nothing.

Alec’s life force is gone. He’s empty, left for dead. There’s nothing there and there’s a split moment where Magnus’s shoulders slump and a sob catches in his throat. He feels his own ruin staring at him, mocking and absolute but before he quite knows what’s happened, he’s snapping around toward his shelves full of every kind of magic book.

He’s hardly aware of what he’s doing. Magnus is aware of every second passing, his own heart keeping time enough for the both of them.

It feels like an eternity as he tosses books aside as soon as they prove worthless. The apothecary holds some of his most treasured texts, the ones he most regularly uses for potions and spell work. But they aren’t worth a damn now, he thinks bitterly, throwing another one out of his way as soon as he realizes it’s nothing but a list of plants and their perfectly sanguine medicinal purposes.

No, he thinks, a little crazed. He needs something else.

It’s with that thought in mind, that Magnus leaves the apothecary. Trying to ignore the voice that whispers, and Alec too, he strides through their loft to his library.

Over the years, this library has become an amalgamation of both his and Alec’s interests. There are Alec’s romance novels taking up one section and his own true crime paperbacks taking up their own set of shelves. There’s one entire wall dedicated to his expansive magical collection, though-- volumes that are rarely used or that he only bought for their historical or monetary value.

Here is where he will find a way to save Alec.

That’s what Magnus tells himself because he quite simply refuses to entertain the idea that his love is dead. He can’t stop to dwell on that sentiment too long or he knows he’d go mad so Magnus does what he does best.

He puts his head down and works.

He’s a little more considerate with these books. Some have been magically preserved through the decades and still others are even too delicate for that preservation method. There’s one book in his collection that Magnus tries to ignore but he knows it’s futile.

There’s a part of him that knew as soon as Alec’s chest stopped moving but it felt like his own heart stopped beating, that this is where things would end for him.

Or begin, he thinks. This will just be a start of a new chapter.

No matter what, he's saving his Alec. What will return to him will be Alec. At the end of the day, that's all Magnus needs.

The binding is inconspicuous enough. No title, no author. Magnus himself doesn’t even know the creator of the spells and potions inside. Green leather bounds the book-- not so dark as to warn the prospective reader of its contents but an almost offensive jade.

It reminds Magnus of spring and in this moment, it’s almost enough to ruin him anew.

The library is silent. It’s just him and what he’s about to do.

If Magnus could slow down enough to use his head, he’d know that what he’s contemplating isn’t just ill-advised. It’s damn near illegal. Definitely morally reprehensible. Still, the consequences aren’t enough to deter him, not when he’s looking at the prospect of living an eternity without his husband. That is a hell Magnus simply refuses to experience.

Raising the dead is complicated. Sometimes what returns is different. Not totally changed, just different. A little more this, a little less that. Not enough to be unrecognizable but just enough so that if you know what to look for, you'll find it. Still. Magnus has promised to love Alec in sickness and in health, through everything, until the end of it all and that's just what he plans to do.

He knows what he wants and what he wants is Alec, whatever way he can have him. That's all that matters.

So, he opens the book. He scours the contents, running a finger along lines of text as he devours each critical step in an arduous process.

With this kind of spell work, time is of the essence. Magnus doesn’t sleep, doesn’t rest as he collects all of his ingredients for the potion. There are one or two that are so far reaching that he has to call a few contacts, some of his more unsavory consultants that don’t ask questions.

Which is best for all involved because Magnus would not be answering anything about what he’s up to tonight. If all goes according to plan, that will just be his and Alexander’s little secret. No one needs to know the lengths he's gone to. Magnus has always been able to deflect better than most and this will become just another mystery that surrounds him and Alec by proxy.

It takes an hour to bribe and threaten his way towards a complete ingredient list and another half an hour of running through the spell work. Going into the apothecary feels like his own brand of death sentence. He carefully avoids looking at Alec, doesn’t think he could continue if he saw blue lips and stiff muscles as rigor mortis works through his beloved’s body.

Just reciting the words in his head leaves him feeling restless, tongue heavy. The consonants are thick, vowels stretching too thin. He hasn’t used this language in a century or two-- since that time with Asmodeus, best left unexplored.

He perseveres.

It’s close to dawn when he feels ready.

Looking over at Alec, his heart aches. It’s grief, an insurmountable tide of it. It’s overwhelming in its gentleness because Magnus knows that he will save Alec. He knows it isn’t too late. He knows what must be done and he is willing to pay this price and much more besides to feel his Alexander’s heart beating under his ear.

The grief and rage are almost in the background now, an echo of what could be if Magnus was anyone else or if he loved Alec just one bit less than he does. He’s said for years that there are no limits where Alec is concerned and this is him crossing the line of what should be.

What should be is Magnus and Alec, happily ever after. That’s what will be, by the grace of every molecule of power that he possesses.

Before the hard part starts, Magnus walks over to Alec, his beautiful husband, and watches him for a long moment. He studies the shadows his lashes leave on his cheeks, the dark hair that’s just started to show dashing threads of silver, a body his husband keeps fit and toned even if he so rarely goes out into the field these days.

Unlike last night, he thinks bitterly and spares a brief but hopeless moment to think that maybe this will make Alec less likely to run out and try to save the world himself.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers in the space between their lips, before laying a gentle kiss on his cool mouth. “Please forgive me.”

Clearing his throat as he straightens, it’s the work of a moment to skim the lines of the spell one last time. The potion sits where it needs to brew for a few more minutes at his side, a ghastly red.

The color of dried blood, of crushed petals. It looks toxic and smells just as putrid.

The words seem to fight Magnus on their way out. The words feel dredged in oil, coated in tar as they slide down his tongue into the quiet room. Shadows lengthen and the light makes way for whatever malignant power Magnus is harnessing.

Black lines creep from Alec’s heart and into his arms, up his neck, under the deflect rune.

Hands shaking with the effort-- for all that the book spelled out exactly what had to be done, only a warlock of the highest ability could manage to pull such a thing off. It’s considerable effort for otherworldly reward.

Finally, with the last syllable falling from his mouth, Magnus picks up the potion and carefully lift’s Alec’s head. His voice is low, cajoling as he forces his husband’s mouth open and pours the disgusting mixture down his throat.

There’s a moment of pure silence. It feels like all of the air in the loft has been vacuumed out and Magnus himself gasps in the vast emptiness.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Every light in the apothecary-- and if Magnus had to hazard a guess, their city block-- explodes and leaves him in the dark. He doesn’t know it but there’s a citywide blackout that will take most of the morning to fix, New York’s power grid almost collapsing completely.

But that doesn’t matter.

Magnus hears Alec’s first shaky inhale. It isn’t a desperate gasp, just a quiet intake of breath. Like he’s surprised, like he hasn’t been clinically dead for almost four hours.

His magic rejoices at once, the apothecary lighting up in brilliant blue. Magnus watches as his husband’s eyes open. They’re empty for just a moment before they turn stunned.

And then furious.

“Magnus,” Alec rasps. He reaches out and he’s not weak when he closes a hand around Magnus’s arm. There’s no tremor. He's every bit the shadowhunter, strong and unyielding. “What the fuck did you do?”

Magnus knows there will be hell to pay. He doesn’t give a damn, not when the alternative is so much worse. “I saved you, darling.”

Alec doesn’t say anything for a moment but Magnus isn’t fooled. He knew Alec wouldn’t be pleased but that isn’t what concerns him anyway. No, the real trouble will lurk outside of their home.

There will be questions. Rumors. Whispers.

His thoughts cut off when Alec leans up and kisses Magnus. There’s dried blood in the corner of his lips and his mouth tastes like that horrifying potion but Magnus can’t get enough. Some sound escapes him and it sounds wretched, equal parts desperation and relief.

Alec is it for him. He’s always known it but now, if possible, it’s even more true. He belongs to Alec just as Alec belongs to him and sure what Magnus did was dangerous and foolhardy but he’s always been both of those when it comes to his husband, for Alec.

When the kiss breaks apart, they’re both breathing hard and it makes Magnus’s heart sing, to hear Alec’s lungs working so beautifully.

His Alexander leans forward slowly until their foreheads touch. “You shouldn’t have done that, babe. You should have let me go.”

There’s only one answer to that, one that Magnus will defend to his own dying breath.

“I’ll never let you go, Alexander. But you already know that.”

Magnus feels more than sees Alec’s mouth tilt up, equal parts exasperated but knowing.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I know.”

[kitkatopinions]

Roman for the character ask? XD

`Plushie, I love you for sending me this because I was excitedly telling you that I hoped someone sent me this.

I’ve been writing non-published fan fics (with plushchrome/why-i-hate-rwby-now) and we usually ‘split’ the writing by dividing who writes for what character. Our first RWBY fan fic featured Survived!Torchwick drifting towards a redemption arc, and I was writing for him. And almost every single RWBY fan fiction I’ve written since has featured Roman because I love writing for him so much. So this one is going to be good because I’ve worked with this character for literally years now. (Some of my headcanoned stuff doesn’t fit with canon, but oh well.)

My top three ships for the character

Roman/Glynda. Their only on-screen almost interaction was their fight in ep 1 in which Roman acted annoyed at the sight of her and got Cinder to fight her instead of him, but boy golly could these two have one tension fueled ‘once in a dream’ sort of romance. Roman/Neo is something I don’t personally ship, but I do like the concept and every time I see concept art of it, my heart melts a little. Funnily enough, I also like the concept of Roman/Oz, but only as ‘Roman always used to tease him by flirting with him.’ (Honorable mention to two OCs who’d take the slots under Glynda if they existed. XD)

My three least favorite ships for the character

Roman/Cinder is a massive no, considering she’s the one who got him into the whole big mess in the first place and then essentially left him for dead. I mean, it’s clear Roman’s into her and they could have divorced couples energy, but boy howdy, this would be toxic in the not fun way. Pass. Roman/Tyrian is something I just don’t vibe with, I feel like Roman has enough street smarts to not instigate or tolerate any romantic vibes with Tyrian. XD Also Junior/Roman. This is apparently called Crimedads? Roman’s the only crimedad I need, I don’t want anything to do with Junior or his disgusting behavior or his stupid looking club.

My biggest criticism for the character

I feel like my biggest criticism is actually the way he’s been used (or rather, not used) after his death. I feel like it was a mistake to wait to bring Neo back until the sixth season, and to not really delve into her backstory and not paying much attention to Neo’s growth. It makes her feel like less of a character and, by extension, makes Roman’s death feel like a weaker motivation for it and makes it matter less to the audience. RWBY’s attempts to be a ‘slow burn’ often leave a lot to be desired, and Roman as a motivation for Neo is no exception to that.

My favorite thing about the character

He was the perfect villain for the first three seasons. He was more of a comic book villain than something we were supposed to take really seriously. He was a real threat, but he was also fun, colorful, he had a great voice actor, some slight sympathetic vibes, but still an obviously selfish, obviously bad guy that - like Watts - it doesn’t feel wrong or complicated to hate or love or love to hate him. His comic book villain vibes still had a little more under the surface, which was perfect for the looser, kids-fighting-monsters fun romp with deeper stuff under the surface. That’s why a part of me doesn’t mind the fact that Roman died, even though I think he could’ve been used after volume 3. They would’ve had to change some of Roman in order to fit in with the new more serious, in-depth storyline, and it might’ve taken some of the charm away from his character.

A headcanon I have about them

Buckle up, because I can’t pick just one. Roman came from a long line of Huntsman and Huntresses and it was a family tradition thing, but he actually really wanted to be a Huntsman for many of the same reasons Ruby had wanted to be one, even past family tradition. Roman’s Hunter parents died when he was young, and he was raised mostly by his aunt and uncle in Mistral, though his family tradition was to attend Beacon, so that’s where he went to school. His aunt and uncle (also Hunters) died while he was attending Beacon in his second year. He had a versatile skillset and was really into weapons construction and strategy, but didn’t apply himself very well in school and never went on to the two vs two rounds in the Vytal Tournament. He started experiencing depression during his time in school, which only started getting worse after he (for messy reasons that I can’t take the time to explain here,) was basically forced to run away with Neo (five years younger than him) during his last year of Beacon, dropping out and living on the streets and starting a life of crime in his increasingly desperate attempts to support her and take care of her. Eventually, he stopped working for criminal masterminds who he always had problems with and thought didn’t do good enough jobs and became one himself. And this one doesn’t line up with canon, but in my fan fictions, I always wrote Roman to have a passive ‘survival’ semblance that triggered when his parents died, that keeps him alive even in really bad circumstances (and even after getting eaten by a Grimm, in the fic. XD) His semblance kept him alive, but it also slowly shifted his moral code to accommodate what he needed to do to survive, and would block out grief sometimes (for instance, he never fully grieved his parents.) Obviously, this doesn’t fit with the canon where he does die in that Grimm, but boy howdy, it made him such a good character to write for in fan fictions.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

I know I said that I was glad that the writers killed him, but I might not do that tbh. If I was making a re-write, it’d be more for me than anything else, and I think if Roman had survived, it could be really good and fun. For one thing, he had a connection and some element of personal tension to Ruby and Blake and Neo had some of that with Yang, and that’s something that was lacking later. Roman and Neo could’ve been used to introduce Salem’s castle, faction, etc, and they could’ve been really good as unsure, out of their depth villains that start influencing Mercury and Emerald a bit more as well. But I don’t think I’d go whole hog on any redemption arc and use Roman and Neo as more gray, wild card type characters who are against Salem and have a line of what they think is wrong, but are still dangerous and violent and selfish themselves. 

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Roman’s character allusion to Romeo Candlewick is relatively loose. You can twist Roman into fitting it, as Candlewick wastes his time in idleness until he’s transformed into a jack-ass and then dies of exhaustion. But I definitely think that they mostly leaned into Disney inspired gimmicks like his red hair, hat, and cigar smoking. And more than that, I agree that he’s more based off of the Fox / Honest John Foulfellow, the deceptive conman who tries to trick Pinocchio in the book by pretending to be lame and attempting to kill him, only to wind up really becoming lame and impoverished and hungry. In the Disney version, he’s a more comical conman who expresses some hesitance on tricking kids into going to Pleasure Island and is being threatened into it, but had no problems with other cut throat villainy with no concern over how it affects Pinocchio. He uses a cane (but doesn’t fake a limp,) and his line delivery and body language is kind of close to Roman. Although this is yet another allusion that’s more based on Disney than the original, I think, I tend to not mind this one so much.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Eight

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

The morale of the troops stationed at the airport seemed to have improved massively . Backhand secretly suspected that having Brandis back had raised everyone's spirits, but she wasn't about to say it out loud.

  Danse had been quiet for the remainder of their journey to the Prydwen, back to thinking a hole in the proverbial wall. Vega assumed he was probably just exhausted; he had already been awake and eager to move out by the time she roused herself that morning. She couldn't blame him. His power armor was long overdue for a greasing and she knew it wasn't an easy feat to move it with sticky bearings. Danse refused to take breaks though, simply chugging along at a steady trudge that she could match with ease. 

  They had agreed to skip a breakfast proper in lieu of eating on the march. A few stunted mutfruit that clung to a scrubby little bush beside the lean-to made their way into their stomachs, and Danse managed to acquire a box of Saddle Up when he gave the collapsed house next to the lean-to a cursory once-over. The two of them split the contents of the box, Danse folding his portion of Salisbury steak in half and tearing a piece out of it with his teeth like it was jerky. 

  Backhand followed suit, though a bit slower, trying to make the tough 'meat' last. She couldn't help but daydream about yesterday's breakfast, the tender meat of the radstag tossed with the soft tatos…

  Regardless of her rumbling stomach, she was glad to be back at the airport. With any luck, she'd be able to speak with Proctor Ingram and get her input on the schematics Virgil and Sturges had come up with. What was it that Nick had said?

  " Just a few more steps ."

  Danse touched her shoulder after they disembarked the vertibird on the flight deck. "I have to go deliver my armor to Ingram and then give Elder Maxson my report, Knight Vega. I suggest you locate Paladin Brandis so that you may retrieve your armor."

  Backhand saluted him sharply, tacking on the Ad Victoriam! at the end. Danse smiled with his eyes, but his face remained stern. 

  "Report to the grease pit once you're finished eating, Knight. Dismissed."

  "How did you know I was-?"

  "If I'm hungry, I imagine you are as well." Danse reasoned, "we ate lightly this morning and it's well past noon. Go get something to eat."

  "Yes sir , Paladin sir!" Backhand replied eagerly, bolting off. 

  Her boots clattered on the metal gangways as she strode towards the mess, ducking and dodging around armored knights and aspirants. Along the way, she heard the whispers that followed her.

  " Hey wasn't that the new sister? "

  " Her and Paladin Danse brought Paladin Brandis back to us! "

  " I heard Knight Vega is the General of the Minutemen -"

  " You're nuts , why would she join up with us if she's already in charge of somethin'? "

  Backhand did her best to ignore the ever-present circulation of scuttlebutt, the young woman making her way to the canteen with sure steps.

  …

  Praise be to whatever God still looked after mankind, Danse found himself redirected to Knight-Captain Cade before he could even think about going to the command deck. Ingram demanded that he submit to a thorough exam after she saw the level of damage his suit bore, and Danse wasn't about to tell a proctor no. If he relayed his briefing to Cade, Danse knew he could circumvent visiting Maxson directly. 

  "Ah, Danse! I'd heard you were back." Cade greeted the paladin hovering in the doorway, waving him in. "What brings you here, Paladin? More troubles of the heart?" He teased.

  Danse jerked to a halt. 

  Troubles of the heart? The words bounced around in his skull, demanding to be examined and oh God. Oh God , that's what had been wrong with him before! Danse wanted to beat his head against the wall. He hadn't been sick at all, not physically anyway. No wonder Cade had been so damned amused at all of his protesting.

  He forced himself to chuckle at the joke, forced himself to keep moving. Inside though, he wanted to scream. 'Troubles of the heart'. Love , as if he deserved to be able to so much as feel that emotion! As if he deserved anything after Cutler, after the catastrophic failure of Recon Squad Gladius!

  It was with panic that he thought back to that morning, to being calm and serene while he just... looked at her and...oh God no , he couldn't do this again. He wouldn't . 

  He shouldn't. 

  But…

  No! Think about what happened with Cutler! Think about what Arthur will do if he perceives her as a threat! Danse raged at himself. Don't be selfish for once in your damn life, she needs the Brotherhood and the Brotherhood needs her to get into the Institute. That's all . Don't make things more complicated, damn it!  

  All Danse could think about was her face right after he had found her lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood at Fort Independence, the desperate way she had entreated him.

  "- find my baby -" 

  Was she just trying to appeal to his sympathies? Danse could freely admit the compassionate nature he tried to bury had gotten him into more trouble than he would like over the years. But had she been playing the long game with that kiss at the police station? Certainly, if the Brotherhood hadn't caught their signal it would have been no skin off of her nose, she could move on to a new target. But since the Prydwen had shown up…

  Had Backhand attempted to get into his good graces just so she could get a better shot at saving her son? 

  As much as that reality would sting, he was unable to blame her for it. Danse already knew just how far he would go for his Brotherhood brothers and sisters, he couldn't even fathom what depths he would stoop to if he was trying to rescue his theoretical child. 

  Cade looked up from his clipboard. "What's wrong, Paladin? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "I'm just...tired." Danse replied lamely. "Hungry." He swiftly changed the subject. "How is Brandis?"

  Cade leaned forward in his seat, unable to hide his clear interest. "I don't know how you managed to convince him to return, but he's doing remarkably well. We have him on a strengthening regiment, his body had been wracked by the radiation. Your knight surrendering her armor was a smart move."

  Your knight. Danse swallowed hard. "She is thoughtful." He said cautiously. Too much praise and it would be obvious that something was afoot, but too little could also tip the scales unfavorably. He found himself maneuvering a tightrope between his usual blunt honesty and this new, strange territory. 

  Many of the rank and file looked up to Danse due to his combat prowess and unflinching resolve. The paladin, in turn, was not necessarily overly free with his praise, but he tended to be more generous. A leftover from slogging along under Krieg's command, if Danse had to guess. The older paladin had cultivated Danse's eagerness to please into an unflagging tenacity through methods that were occasionally viewed as barbaric, but no one could fault his results. Still though, Danse wanted to be a fair leader, not a warlord or a tyrant who brought out the best in his troops through extreme duress.

  Had he been more like Krieg, maybe Gladius wouldn't have-- no , thinking that way would only drive him into a darker depression.

  He realized suddenly that Cade was giving him a quizzical look and Danse tried not to let his panic show. If Cade sussed him out, Vega would no doubt be reassigned. Maybe to Brandis? Hell, she would get the old codger killed -

  Cade got to his feet, asking Danse to follow his penlight with his eyes. The paladin obeyed, stifling a yawn as he did. "Still having trouble sleeping?" Cade asked calmly. "The headaches and nightmares?"

  "They come and go." Danse admitted. "I rarely sleep well, sir."

  "It's to be expected after everything you've gone through, Danse. You need to give yourself time , perhaps even take some leave-"

  Danse was already shaking his head, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "With all due respect sir, there is too much at stake in the Commonwealth."

  "And with even more respect, Paladin, you're working yourself into an early grave. Even earlier than you might anticipate. I'm well aware of your history and your mentality when it comes to the Brotherhood, but you need to consider the ramifications of your high-output lifestyle." Cade reasoned with a frown. "You'll burn yourself out at this rate. Hell, you might have already! Pay attention to your body, soldier. If you need to rest, then rest ." He placed a hand on Danse's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "You're no good to the Brotherhood dead, Danse."

  Danse nodded stiffly down at the floor. "Understood, sir." He then began to give his field report, Cade occasionally stopping him to ask for points of clarification.

  …

  Ingram hummed at the terminal, her eyes darting back and forth as she read through the information that scrolled across the screen. 

  "Okay. Okay alright, yeah. Your friend is a genius, but he's a bit of a savant. Gotta' tell him to branch out." She mumbled, almost like she was talking to herself. "Write this down for me, manipulating a pen in this suit is a terrible time."

  Backhand quickly accepted the clipboard Ingram pushed her way, hope rising in her heart as the proctor rattled off different statistics and theories about teleportation. Ingram expanded on Sturges' prior reasonings exponentially, seeming almost as excited as Backhand was at the plethora of new data to browse. Through a series of notes and ruler-lined diagrams, the proctor helped to fill in the gaps that Sturges had been struggling with. 

  "Of course, this is all speculation." Ingram sighed finally, sounding a little dejected. "If the Institute was really at the level of actual molecular reconstruction via relay, I get the idea that the Prydwen wouldn't still be in the air." She smiled at Backhand. "But hey, tell your friend 'thanks' from an old proctor. It was fun to think about. I don't get a lot of interesting or challenging data anymore, so this was a nice change of pace. If he ever wants to come aboard and talk shop, let me know and I'll try to get Maxson to give him a 'visitor's pass'."

  Vega was flabbergasted. Ingram apparently believed that Sturges just had limitless free time on his hands to flesh out such wild theories. She didn't think that any of it was real! The young woman collected herself after a moment, trying to think up an appropriate response. "I'll--I'll definitely let him know! I'm sure having someone intelligent to bounce his ideas off of will do him wonders." She promised, returning Ingram's smile. "He tends to leave me in the dust once he really gets going."

  Ingram groaned theatrically. "Ah, the burden of genius! Heavy is the head that wears the crown, you know how it is. It's times like these that I miss the hell out of Doctor Li."

  "Who was Doctor Li?"

  "Ah, she was one of our scientists back in the big CW. Worked on a lot of important stuff for the Brotherhood. Then one day she just kinda'-" Ingram gestured vaguely. "-went poof. Nobody ever heard from her again."

  Backhand had only been half-listening as she leafed through the notes, carefully collecting them all into a neat pile and stowing them in her satchel. But at the proctor's admission that their doctor had vanished , the former Vault-dweller straightened up. She squinted at Ingram. " Poof? "

  Ingram nodded. "Yep. Gone like she was never there. I personally think, after hearing about how the Institute operates, that our lead scientist got poached." She shrugged, her armor frame creaking loudly. "But that's just me. For all I know, Madison got bored."

  Backhand chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Stealing a brilliant scientist from their chief opposition made sense. But she still had no idea why the Institute would have taken her son of all people.

  "Oh! Your armor, I almost forgot. Brandis had me tuck it away in bay six." Ingram said suddenly, hooking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the bay. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some serious work ahead of me to unfuck Danse's gear. 'Outstanding', my ass ." She griped. "Man's got a death wish."

  Backhand tried valiantly to choke back her laughter at Ingram's exaggerated impression of Danse's " outstanding ", but failed miserably.

  "Ah, I see you too must have witnessed the fabled ' outstanding '?" Ingram chuckled. "It's his trademark, great stuff."

  "I am pleased to know that you find my speech patterns amusing , Proctor Ingram." Danse's voice made Backhand squeak. The paladin sauntered up beside Ingram, still ripping apart what looked like an entire pot pie. 

  "Danse! I see you still can't take a breather, even if it's only to eat." Ingram remarked pointedly, rolling her eyes. "You couldn't have sat down in the mess hall, Paladin?" 

  "Time is of the essence, Proctor." Danse said through a mouthful of tough crust. Backhand had grabbed a slice of it when she was in the mess. The filling wasn't half bad, but whoever had made the shell had worked their dough for far too long. Obviously Danse wasn't letting that stop him.

  "Danse it's gonna' take my scribes a hot minute just to get all the dents out, nevermind the greasing. Do me a favor, take your knight and go to Proctor Teagan for a new helmet." Ingram shooed the paladin off, rolling her eyes at Backhand. "A fine example for our troops, as long as they don't watch you eat ."

  "They should not be watching me eat to begin with-" Danse started to protest.

  " Danse . Go to Teagan."

  …

  Finding Paladin Brandis conversing with Teagan shouldn't have come as a surprise to Danse. After all, Brandis loved his armor and mods. It was odd to see the older paladin all cleaned up once again, the sides of his head uniformly shaved and his facial hair back to the semi-standard goatee.

  "Danse!" Brandis greeted him warmly and Danse wished that he didn't have crumbs all over his jumpsuit. He was startled when the other man hauled him into a hug, slapping him on the back. "It's good to see you in one piece, Paladin! I heard about what happened with your armor. It's always a trial if you have to abandon your gear." Brandis' smile was broad but his eyes were sad. 

  Danse swallowed, nodding in agreement. "Are we interrupting your discussion, Paladin Brandis?" 

  "Not at all! I was just about to stop monopolizing Teagan's time."

  "Brandis, the last thing you're doing is monopolizing." Proctor Teagan groaned, leaning his elbows on the counter. He perked up when Backhand scooted out around Danse. "New Blood! You're back in one piece!" 

  "Takes more than a sure-fail mission to locate a man who's been missing for over five years to stop me, Proctor Teagan." Knight Vega replied, giving him a salute as he laughed.

  "Now, Danse, what's this I hear about you half-scuttling your gear?" Teagan chided the large paladin. "You're lucky we like you around here, you know that?"

  Danse chuckled, nodding. "I'm well aware, Proctor. I must requisition a new helmet."

  "Psh, you think I'll have one that'll fit that big head of yours? We'll have to see." Teagan ribbed him, turning away from the counter and beginning to rummage in his crates.

  Danse heard the sound of small footfalls and abruptly Brandis was assaulted by one of the squires. "Paladin Brandis!" The child exclaimed, like he had just discovered the paladin. 

  "Yes, little one?" Brandis asked, taking the boy's cap off to ruffle his unruly blond curls. Danse caught himself wondering what young Matthew would be like as a squire. Would he be more quiet, prone to scribe work? Or would he still be mischievous, going places where he shouldn't, eventually donning a suit of power armor to defend him from the consequences of said mischief?

  And Backhand's own child, her Shaun. When they rescued him, what would he be like? He assumed she must also think about that, obviously more than he would. 

  Danse realized belatedly that Brandis had continued his conversation with the boy, the child rattling on and on to the paladin about being allowed to feed Scribe Neriah's mole rats. Danse just barely caught Knight Vega's wistful smile before Teagan was clattering a familiar helmet down on the counter. "And here it is! One brain bucket, complete with intact searchlight." The proctor announced proudly, sliding the requisition form over for Danse to sign. "I expect you to take better care of this one, Paladin. Knight, make sure he takes better care of this one." Teagan instructed, narrowing his eyes.

  Vega snapped another salute, "yes sir, Proctor sir!"

  "Where are you off to now, Danse?" Brandis asked curiously, the squire still clinging to his leg.

  "Well, as Knight Vega is in a probationary phase, I imagine we'll assist Scribe Neriah. Perhaps Proctor Quinlan has a job for us." Danse mused, scribbling DN-407P on the form. "I don't believe we'll be sent out with the rest of Gladius anytime soon. I ought to check in on them."

  "Recon Squad Gladius returned last night, sir!" The squire informed him with a clumsy salute. "They should be at the ground barracks, sir!"

  " Outstanding ." Danse said warmly, then he heard Backhand wheeze with laughter. "Oh, be quiet." He huffed, nudging her side with his elbow. 

  …

  Danse had left her to her own devices, stating that he would be checking in on the remainder of his squadron for the evening. 

  " If you'd like to pick up a few small assignments, I will be happy to assist you with them as I continue to sponsor you ." 

  So after a brief logistical kerfuffle that found her standing in Cade's doorway instead of Quinlan's, Backhand managed to get herself assigned to the illustrious task of rustling up technical documents. "My scribes do so enjoy their reading material." Proctor Quinlan remarked, seeming amused by the way the young woman fawned over Emmett. "If you locate anything you believe could be of interest, please bring it to me. A good soldier knows that an unanticipated edge is the preferred one."

  "Of course sir." 

  Backhand did feel just a bit guilty about using Proctor Ingram as Sturges' sounding board, but in her defense she had planned on telling the other woman the truth. It just was a little less... messy for the moment if Ingram didn't know everything.

  Vega knew she could ask Codsworth about technical documents once she got back to Sanctuary. The robot hadn't left the cul-de-sac for over two hundred years; he probably had an itemized list of every thing in every house . And since the Hills had been styled as veteran housing, there was bound to be a few items of interest. Plus, it was the perfect excuse to return to Sanctuary so she could fling all of Ingram's notes at Sturges. Fingers crossed that the genius could make sense of them.

  Backhand was tired of wasting time, tired of spinning her wheels. But she knew that the more she helped, the more people would be willing to help her when the time came. Having the numbers of an outfitted army on her side in case of something going wrong was an immense comfort, and it helped to soothe her worries. The familiarity of it didn't hurt either. The Minutemen were slowly becoming a force to be reckoned with, but their humble beginnings could be a bit glaring . This was the next best option.

  So she'd rifle through the debris of Sanctuary Hills one more time. The required company of Danse was more of a bonus than a detriment, in her opinion. She could keep him clear of the Prydwen a lot easier when they were halfway across the world from the airport. 

  Ingram's words echoed in her head, not for the first time since Danse had been assigned as her sponsor. 

  "... Danse is a good man and he shouldn't be getting jerked around, Elder or no ."

  Backhand frowned, tipping herself out from behind her armor in bay six. Her eyes landed on Danse's suit standing empty across the way as two scribes slowly coaxed the dents out of it. God, the damage had been sobering in the first place, but looking at it now was almost worse. The frame looked tired . 

  " That's Paladin Danse's armor?"

  Backhand jumped at the whisper from beside her. She hadn't heard the squire approach. "Yup. Crazy, huh?"

  "Is he...is he okay?" The little girl asked timidly, wide brown eyes staring up at Vega. 

  "He is! He's fine, I promise." Backhand patted the child's shoulder gently. "I helped him out, fixed him up real good."

  "Okay." The girl nodded, looking thoughtful. "Paladin Brandis is okay too. That's good. He's important." 

  "'Important', huh?" Backhand echoed, knowing she must sound bemused. This little girl was just being so serious , like she was trying to seem more adult. It was sweet, in a sad way. A testament to the burden put on these kids at such a young age.

  "Yes." The little girl puffed herself up a bit. "We need Paladin Brandis. He's important ."

  "Why is he important?" Backhand queried curiously. 

  "We…" the squire hesitated, like she had said too much. "He just is. I can't tell you. S'a secret."

  Backhand gave the child a salute, nodding. "Of course. Don't worry, I won't compromise your mission." 

  "W-Well, good!" She stuttered, adjusting her cap and giving Backhand a salute in return. "Ad Victoriam, knight. I gotta' go." She scampered off, leaving Backhand confused and somewhat entertained.

  He's important . 

  As she tucked in for the night, Backhand wondered what the child had meant. Was the squire being needlessly cryptic? Maybe she had overheard something she wasn't supposed to? 

  Backhand stared up at the dimly-lit innards of the Prydwen, the ribs of the massive airship barely visible in the dark. Another mystery , she mused ruefully. Her return to Sanctuary couldn't come soon enough.

  …

  Danse was summoned to the command deck at six hundred hours the following morning. He should have known that he wouldn't even be able to enjoy the company of Haylen and Rhys without suffering some kind of consequence.

  He hated how sweaty his palms were as he stood at attention, his back ramrod straight.

  "Paladin Danse, I was given your briefing yesterday by Knight-Captain Cade. Is there any particular reason you didn't come to me personally?" Arthur asked, sounding almost bored. Danse might have believed it if not for the current of anger that rasped in his voice.

  "Proctor Ingram sent me directly to Cade, Elder Maxson. My armor was in poor shape and she was concerned about my bodily state." The paladin replied evenly.

  "Brandis showed up well before you did. Why is that, Danse?"

  "Local civilians informed myself and Knight Vega of a super mutant infestation. It was during our assault on the compound that my armor took the damage. I needed time to repair-"

  Danse's explanation was cut off by the sound of heavy boots on the large ladder between decks. Brandis of all people emerged from the porthole, offering Danse a quick nod before focusing his attention on Maxson. "Elder! I have a request for flight support from-"

  "Brandis, how many times do I have to tell you not to interrupt me?" Arthur snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "And how many times do I have to tell you that nothing about the military is convenient or willing to wait on your long-winded tomfoolery?" Brandis retorted. "I have a knight requesting flight support, Maxson, and the presence of Paladin Danse."

  "Me?" Danse asked in confusion.

  Elder Maxson growled, then nodded. "Very well . I suppose your report from Cade will have to do. But in the future , Paladin Danse, I expect you in person on the command deck. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Of course, Elder." Danse saluted dutifully. "Ad Victoriam." Arthur just waved him off, obviously irritated. 

  Once they had returned to the engineering deck, Brandis clapped Danse on the shoulder. "Sorry about that, I didn't realize that he would try for you so early!" He apologized. "Knight Vega has been rarin' since five. I know he denied you air support before, but Vega said you two have a long ways to go for the assignment she picked up from Quinlan. It's easier to get something out of that little curmudgeon if you baffle him with rapid-fire requests."

  Danse sputtered, unsure if he had ever heard someone refer to the elder as a little curmudgeon . "I am glad that your respect for Elder Maxson is just as strong as ever, Paladin Brandis." He managed to say.

  "Arthur has gotten too big for a combination of his britches, his father's britches, and his grandfather's britches." Brandis chuckled, "it does him good to get brought back down to earth once in a while." He straightened up, giving Danse a gentle push in the direction of the armor bay. "Now go, go go get suited up before he changes his mind!" The older paladin urged impatiently.

  Danse noted when he reached the grease pit that Vega's armor was gone. Obviously she had wanted to get an early start. Danse grimaced ruefully, zipping up his jumpsuit. No matter what he did, it seemed to be the wrong thing. He wished he could go back to his bunk and try again in an hour or so. 

  He shook his head, then stepped into his armor. The gaskets hissed as the unit was sealed, the back plate latching down firmly. Danse picked up his new helmet, absently flipping it out of habit and then sliding it onto his head until it clicked into the gorget seal. The heads-up display flickered to life in front of his eyes, all readings nominal. Green across the board , as Lancer-Captain Kells would say.

  His heavy sabatons clunking firmly on the metal catwalks, Danse made his way to the flight deck.

  Backhand was there, her helmet tucked under her arm as she chatted animatedly with the pilot that ( presumably ) was taking them to their location. Danse still had no idea what their assignment was. Hell, he didn't even know if there was an assignment or if this was all just a conspiracy cooked up by Vega and Brandis to get him away from Maxson.

  A combination of embarrassment and gratitude flushed Danse's face beneath his helmet. He was relatively sure that neither of them knew what was truly going on between himself and Maxson. Maybe they had assumed the worst, thought that he was being abused or something to that effect. But it wasn't... really , technically. He was following orders. Orders that made him sick to his stomach and hot with shame, but he was a Brotherhood soldier and he would do as the elder commanded him.

  "Glad to see you taking initiative, Knight Vega." Danse commented loudly over the roar of the vertibird engine. 

  "Paladin! Good to see you bright and early. We have our heading from Proctor Quinlan, and I know just the place. This fine gal will be droppin' us off in Concord." Backhand explained and the pilot grinned, waving off the praise and gesturing for the two of them to climb aboard.

  …

  Backhand was practically vibrating with excitement when they finally touched down just outside of Concord. She was off and running down the main thoroughfare, leaving Danse to catch up with her.

  "Knight Vega!" The paladin protested.

  "Time is of the essence, Paladin!" Backhand yelled in reply, slowing briefly to a jog. 

  "Where are we even going , Vega?" Danse shouted. She didn't bother to answer, just making a sweeping motion with her arm as if to say hurry up! "I fail to see the strategic advantage of the two of us careening through the town like a stampede of brahmin!"

  "Just follow me and stop complaining!" Backhand laughed, maintaining her pace up the hill to the Red Rocket gas station. She paused at the top, waiting for Danse to come up alongside her before she pointed across the river. "Look." She said, a little breathless.

  Danse obliged, the paladin going still. "Another settlement?"

  "This is where I lived before the war." Backhand informed him, "Sanctuary Hills."

  Danse made a noise of acknowledgment, shifting his weight. "And the reason why we're here?" He pressed after a moment.

  Backhand smiled under her helmet, patting his shoulder. "Technical documents. Not only was this little development just teeming with ex-military, if that's not good enough my vault is up the hill."

  He was silent for a time and Backhand was getting a little worried that she had upset him somehow, but then out of the blue, " outstanding , Knight Vega." The warmth in his tone was unmistakable and she couldn't even bring herself to make a joke about his trademark term, too flustered by his praise to do anything aside from nod and start walking across the old bridge.

  Dogmeat came galloping to greet her, the mutt barking excitedly and fawning around her legs after she ejected from her power armor. "Hey Meat! Who's a good boy? Who's the best boy?" Backhand crooned, giving him belly rubs when he begged for them. 

  "Ah, Miss Vega! It is, as always, a delight to have you return to us. You look well!" Codsworth bubbled, the Mister Handy breezing over to her from his usual spot maintaining the patchy hedges. "And who is this that you've brought with you? Will I need to set an extra plate at dinner?" He inquired, two out of three eyestalks gazing up at the impassive paladin. 

  "Codsworth, this is Paladin Danse. I hope you can help the two of us out with a little project." Backhand said seriously, tapping her forehead against the cool metal of Codsworth's third eye. 

  The robot sputtered, "But of course , mum! Whatever the two of you need, if there's any way at all that I might assist you, I shall do my best." He waved his appendages around, mimicking a fighting stance. "Are there more ruffians about, mum? More interlopers? Has the Red Menace finally come to our doorstep? I'll give them a thorough drubbing, just send them my way!" He said staunchly.

  Backhand chuckled, shaking her head. "Nothing quite as exciting as all that, Codsworth. My friend works for a group that's dedicated to curating and preserving technology, and we were sent out expressly to find documents that might be useful. I know you've been here for a while, and I was hoping that you might-"

  "Oh, if it's old, musty, suspicious documents you're after, Miss Vega, I must say you've come to the right place!" Codsworth lowered his voice conspiratorially, "why, I've got it on good faith that your neighbor was a dirty commie spy! " He sounded scandalized. "Mr. Sturges says that I am too quick to jump to conclusions, but can you even imagine-? "

  "Codsy, if I told you once I told you a thousand times, don ' t you be puttin' words in my mouth!" Sturges shouted from his usual position by the workbench, giving Backhand a friendly wave. "Howdy General, how was your vacation?"

  "A nightmare." Vega admitted, "Weston was infested all over again." 

  "Oo, that's a tough place to get a handle on. I assume you got it sorted though? I mean, you're the general for a reason." The man mused, wiping his hands off on a rag and cocking his head. "So this is the fella' from the police station? Land sakes, you didn't skimp on your description." He teased, making Backhand wince self-consciously as he sauntered over. "I know Preston's got mixed feelin's on the Brotherhood, but I figure any heavily-armored port in a radstorm, right?" 

  Sturges stopped in front of Danse, squinting up at the man's helmet. Danse removed it after a moment, the seal hissing and steaming a little in the cool morning air. "Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel." He intoned, extending one large gauntlet to the mechanic.

  Sturges chuckled, gamely shaking the massive hand presented to him. "Sturges. I fix things. Suppose that'd be an engineer or a mechanic to you military folks."

  "Speaking of fixing things..." Backhand dug into her satchel, tugging free the ream of notes she had from Ingram. "I brought you a present!" She sang, passing the incomprehensible sheaf of paper to the other man.

  Sturges whistled after flipping through the first few pages, his eyebrows launching up until they were hidden by his goggles. "Damn, this is good. General, this is real good. Like, ' we might pull this off ' kinda' good!" He said giddily. 

  "Yeah?" Backhand replied eagerly. "Danse and I will be here for a few days, so if Jun or Marcy are busy-"

  "I'll ask you, of course. Thanks for this, General. It really helps to have an extra pair of eyes lookin' over my work." Sturges drawled sincerely. 

  "How is Mama Murphy doing?" Vega asked, twiddling her fingers nervously.

  "She got up earlier this mornin'! She came out and had her coffee with me. I'd say she's doin' better. Shorin' herself up." Sturges smiled. "We got a lifetime of chem problems to work through, y'know, so I ain't expectin' any overnight miracles."

  "Yeah, I guess not." Backhand frowned. "I still wish there was more I could do."

  Sturges put a hand on her arm. "You done more than enough, General. More than most folks would have. Don't worry about Mama Murphy. She's a tough ol' gal."

  …

  Evening fell over the settlement and Danse was grateful for the opportunity to simply rest his eyes. He knew why Quinlan had such thick glasses now. He had only dug into one box of documents and his head was still spinning from all the fine print!

  Backhand yawned, eyes lidding and mouth going slack with the effort. "God, I am beat ." She confessed, laughing a little. "It's pretty sad that all it takes to get me braindead is reading about failed observations and leafing through old refrigerator manuals."

  "I find the manuals miles more interesting. I've always enjoyed that sort of practical research." Danse remarked. "It has real-life applications in the field, but these other things…" he heaved a sigh. "I wish Haylen had been permitted to come along with us. She is far more adept when it comes to cataloging. I was not trained as a scribe."

  "Well, I would say we should burn the midnight oil, but I'm pretty sure we've both got mush for brains right now." Vega got to her feet, taking a moment for a full-body stretch. "We can get back to this tomorrow. Right now, I'm hungry."

  "Dinner will be ready in a moment, mum!" Codsworth assured from his spot just outside the front door, continuing to rotate the meat on its spit over the fire.

  Danse abruptly realized that he was starving , the delicious smell of the roasting yao guai making his stomach rumble. It had been hours since they had eaten, and he had been so focused on the task at hand that he hadn't even noticed. He neatly collected the papers spread out on the floor and shuffled them all together, placing them on top of the boxes Vega had already made her way through. 

  Truthfully, this neighborhood had been a hotbed of observation and it made him feel a little antsy now that he didn't have the mind-numbing documents to distract him. It was foolish to be concerned about such things, Danse told himself. Anyone who might have been observing this area was long dead. It wasn't as if he and Backhand would be spirited away in the night by 'the men in suits'. Although...it was a little disconcerting to realize that those occurrences were considered normal back in the pre-war era.

  Knight Vega, oblivious to his inner quandary, was digging through the rickety refrigerator. "You want a Nuka? Or a beer?" She asked.

  Danse opened his mouth. Hesitated. Bought himself time by climbing upright and doing his own series of light stretches. One beer was surely acceptable in the field? Surely? He had known many a commanding officer that hadn't let their duties stop them from getting intoxicated. It had been a short eternity since he had imbibed any spirits. 

  Surely just one would be alright. "Beer, please." 

  In a motion so fluid it must have been muscle memory, Vega hooked the cap of the beer on the edge of the battered formica counter and quickly slammed it down, prying off the top with ease. "Cheers, Paladin." She tipped the bottle to him and Danse caught it around the neck, nodding his thanks before taking a long drink. 

  Being alone was dangerous in the field, he mused for the hundredth time, as it made him neglect his own needs. He hadn't even noticed that he was hungry or thirsty until Backhand insisted that they pause for the evening. Danse couldn't even count the amount of nights Haylen or Rhys had to force him to stop patrolling the police station so he would get some rest. It was just so easy for him to sink into a rut, a routine, ignoring everything else in favor of it. 

  Her own Nuka Cola received the same treatment, foaming up a little in protest. Backhand laughed, hurrying to gulp the soda down before it overflowed. 

  "Where will I be bunking for the evening, Knight Vega?" Yes, Danse was technically in charge, technically her sponsor, but this was her house. He wasn't so bold to presume that he would be permitted to sleep wherever he wanted.

  Backhand tapped her lips with the Nuka Cola bottle as she appeared to think. "I mean, we can haul a bed into here for you? I imagine you don't want to sleep on the floor." She reasoned.

  "I would rather not, if there is an available bed." Danse agreed, grimacing. 

  "Alright, after dinner me and Sturges can grab one of the extra beds." 

  "Alternatively, you can direct me to it and I can move it myself." Danse didn't mean to sound so petulant, but he hardly needed another man and his ward to accomplish a task he should be more than capable of. Backhand began to laugh, her mirth making Danse scowl self-consciously. " What? " He finally muttered.

  "Nothing! Nothing at all. I will absolutely take you to the bed ." Backhand sputtered.

  Danse took a moment to consider her words, and a reluctant smile disrupted his stoic expression. "Honestly Knight, you are incorrigible ." He huffed, unable to bite back his own chuckle at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Here they were, laughing like aspirants over some inadvertently ribald humor. He felt foolish, though not necessarily in a bad way. "Yes yes, Knight Vega, take me to bed." He announced, outstretching a hand to her. "Next thing you know, you'll be making jokes about sleeping together." 

  His heart raced when she winked at him. "We've already done that, keep up Paladin!"

Part Nine

[loptyrs-moved]

Wilted Flowers and Jilted Lovers

Rating: Teen Word Count: 2,435 Pairing: Seth Hyde/Original Character Tags: complicated relationships, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, making out, aphrodisiac, hurt/comfort, angst

Original Post Date to AO3: 12/01/2019

Preview:  Gladiolus: Symbolizing strength and moral integrity; also represents passion and infatuation

They know how this goes, and it's always the same. They can't bring back the past. Their love is gone, and lost to memories. But Seth is a sucker... and he's absolutely hopeless. But so is she.

Sunset washed Cradle in rich red, purple and gold. The warm breath of summer had just ghosted over the land, bringing a heat in the breeze. Spring had been forgotten —as quickly as it came, it faded away. Seasons passed by.... just like fleeting affections of time passed.  The forest had been their place of solace — their oasis in the desert. A diamond in the rough. But not even the strongest of diamonds could withstand the fallout that came billowing over when everything fell to pieces. And since then, their place lost the magic it once had, even though it hadn’t changed much at all. The rocks were all the same. The magic crystals still grew plentifully amidst the trees.

And for several years, a pair of former lovers met here. They quarreled. They fought. They made love here… like time didn’t slip through the cracks of their fingers all those years ago. But old habits die hard. The setting sun washed over the land, streaking the cloudless sky with pink and orange against the cerulean blue. Hushed whispers echoed in the clearing. Rustling of leaves and the shuffling of feet made this forest a familiar scene between the two lovers. And like always, it hurt more than salt being rubbed in fresh wounds.

She was pinned against one of the trees, mind hazy, nerves singing from the overload of pleasure he gave her. It was sweet… and yet each kiss stung more than the last. Hands pulled at each other desperately trying to get closer without going too far. Fingers tangled in sky blue hair, pulling him deeper into their kiss. Lips and teeth spoke the truth of needing the other more than their next breaths.

“S-Seth… we… we shouldn’t be…” a breathless voice whispered as the man holding her in his arms pressed loving, tender kisses along her neck. His teeth nipped at her, leaving the most subtle of marks against her warm, russet brown skin. Sinewy, gloved fingers dug into the fabric of his black and blue military jacket as she tried her best to keep her balance, for her legs weakened from the impending threat of giving out from underneath her. She knew better. She knew better than to seek the Ten of Spades out, since the outcome of these encounters always ended up with one of them being on the other side of a blade. Or two.

It was always the same. Either one or both of them would be hurt.  Was this their punishment? Did the gods find them to be their tools of amusement? What sort of sin did they commit in the lives previous that they were doomed to continue this vicious cycle of heartbreak?

The graze of his teeth against her collarbone forced a soft moan to bubble from within her chest. “Seth…”

He pulled away for just a moment to meet her gaze. Melancholy swirled in her mismatched gold and brown eyes. They called for him. Yearned for him. The setting sun caught the specks of gold in her irises, dragging him further into their depths.  How he missed this — how he missed her. He missed the sensation of her skin flushed against his, and how her chopped, messy brown hair felt like between his fingers. How he yearned for her to be at his side once again.

But alas, such selfish wishes would never come to fruition.

No matter how many times he tried to push her memory out of his head, they seemed to always linger behind, tormenting him with sleepless nights and dreams of the love that escaped him.  It had been years since they parted ways. Three if anyone was counting. And in those three long, agonizing years, Seth never forgot the feelings he had for Camille Fontaine. Despite their turbulent history, he still loved her. He always would. Seth loved her more than anyone could even possibly begin to fathom.

Loving Camille was natural… like second nature. And he had a hard time kicking the habit of losing himself in the heated kisses they shared. It didn’t help that they met in the same place where vibrant red and orange gladiolus grew wild. They infected the air with their subtle scent as the wind spread their pollen across the land—a rare type of pollen that made even the most composed of people lose themselves to their most carnal desires. And the former lovers were no stranger to it.  

Camille and Seth knew this part of the forest like it was the back of their hands. It was a home to memories long passed. Wildflowers once grew in abundance here. A special breed of gladiolus  flourished here, making this place special. Magical even. However… like most spells, the magic fades away, leaving behind a gilded memory best left in the past. There was only the sun, shining its bright light of all the memories they should have left buried behind, casting a shadow of what they both had become now—a farce… and the angel of death.

Seth swallowed the lump that  formed in his throat. His hand cupped her cheek, caressing her. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said, his usual light, airy voice now hoarse with desire. There was a sadness that brewed behind twin hazel irises. “And I know yours haven’t either.” Her eyes avoided the earnest expression in his warm ones in fear that if she looked at him directly for too long, she would burst into tears.

Her heart screamed for her to tell him she felt the same, for it was the truth.

Camille never stopped loving Seth. How could she?

The love they have—had—was one that only came around once in a lifetime. But it was over… the moment she signed her life off to the most sadistic man in Cradle was the absolute breaking point. There was no way she could allow the man she loved for so long, and with every fibre of her being to be involved in the darkness than he already needed to be. She only did it to protect him. Why couldn’t he see that?

It was best if they forgot each other. It would have been better if they had never met.

But she knew it wasn’t what she really thought. She would have rather died knowing him for even just a moment than to live for centuries without meeting him at all.

She bit her lip, the sensitive skin threatening to split if she pressed her teeth down any harder. The taste of iron seeped into her mouth as blood oozed from the cracked skin. It was only to keep herself from letting the dams holding back a torrent of tears from splintering, and ultimately shattering.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Camille repeated, avoiding his gaze. Her voice was but a whisper, fearing that they would be overheard. “We shouldn’t. We can’t keep meeting like this, Hyde. ”

We don’t have the luxury to love each other anymore.

The cry of the birds echoed above as they flew above in the pink, twilit sky filled the air. They were free, soaring through the warm winds that carried them to places where it was warmer, and safer than where the lovers lost were. The sound of Seth Hyde’s heart shattering into a million pieces was like a bullet cutting through the air before it pierced its target, lodging itself deep within the flesh, and muscle as it bled with no mercy. Love was merciless. Cruel. It tore people apart. Poets sang of how it conquered all, while it was the reasons why nations went to war with each other. Love was blood splattered across the battlefield. Love was the harsh and deafening clang of swords clashing as steel met. Whoever said it would overcome any sort of conflict was a liar. A fake. A fraud. Just like the Ten of Spades.

And yet… he couldn’t help but tilt her head up to meet his tired eyes. The hint of a smile flashed in his sad, hazel irises. A thumb stroked her scarred cheek slowly. Lovingly. “You always say that, Cami. But you were also here waiting for me, weren’t you?” A hand took hers in his and squeezed. gently. Seth’s ached, and heart bled every time he and his former beloved met like this. He wasn’t a masochist, but living a life without Camille in it pained him more than anything. It nearly killed him to see her on the other side of him, threatening to kidnap the Alice that had fallen from the stars and landed in the middle of their pathetic war. To see the one he called his love fight in his name was a punishment worse than death itself.

Yet he still sought her out, wanting to rekindle things—to fix things. There was a part of them that desperately wanted things and people they couldn’t have. But just like her, he wasn’t immune to that man’s reach. Seth Hyde was caught in a vicious whirlpool, and there was no way out. They used him just as they used her for their biddings, whether it was under the guise of being a carefree and high-ranking military officer, or an assassin whose only home was in the shadows. They were two sides of the same coin, and the Jabberwock was the one deciding which one would be the other’s demise.

They could be each other’s ruin if he so wished it to be.

Camille chewed the inside of her cheek. She withdrew her hand from his. Gold and brown eyes grew cold as the sun disappeared off beyond the horizon. Night was approaching, and neither one of them could be caught out here, reliving memories that should have been discarded many years ago.

“You know why I’m here. You missed your check-ins with Dalim the last two times he came looking for you,” she said, her words sharp like the tip of her sword. “And it’s getting old.”

Seth winced. She straightened herself and slipped from his arms. The dark look on her face was one that he had grown accustomed to in recent times. The ray of hope was gone from her eyes, leaving icy cynicism in its place. “You’re wasting everyone’s time, and he’s not pleased about it. You’ve grown sloppy, Hyde, and it’s been ever since you’ve joined that little army of yours.”

Each word was a dagger, cutting into him, stabbing him — leaving his scar-ridden heart bleeding. His brain screamed for him to take her back in his arms, and hold her tight so that she wouldn’t slip away from him again. He couldn’t bear the idea of the one he called his beloved serve that sadistic monster like she was personal attack dog. But what could Seth Hyde protect? Who? He couldn’t even keep his dear sister out of their clutches, so what made him think that he could keep Camille out of their grasp.

She was too hot headed for her own good, and one day, she would fly too close to the sun and fall headfirst into her own demise. But she didn’t want his help. Camille was just as stubborn as he was. It was the reason why he loved her so much… and why he was so reluctant to let her go.

“Cami… I…”

She took a step forward, giving him a murderous glare. She slipped past him, putting a distance between them. Her hand slipped into his coat pocket, and took his written report that was long overdue, slipping another in its place. “So I suggest you get your head out of the clouds and do your job instead of fooling around. Time is of the essence. Don’t forget who you really work for, Ten of Spades.”

Words were stuck in his throat. This wasn’t the first time Camille broke his heart, but it still tore him to shreds nonetheless. He couldn’t even cry, no matter how choked up he was. Nails bit into the skin of his hand, drawing blood. He wanted to argue back with her, but how could he when he knew she was right? It would be futile now. So he remained silent as he watched Camille walk to the far end of the clearing.

“He’ll be expecting an update in the next two weeks,” Camille said nonchalantly, casting a last glance at the man she once loved. And in her eyes, Seth saw tears. If she stayed any longer, there would be no telling what would happen next. They could end up in each other’s arms… or at the opposite end of blades — like it had been for six long, painful, heart-wrenching years. But time was of the essence. And their employer was an impatient man.

“Don’t disappoint him. ”

Seth Hyde stood alone as he watched Camille disappear between the gnarled trees and all their hideous branches. Twilight blanketed Cradle. The moon was rising from where the sun sank, casting her glow on the land. The subtle scent of the gladiolus filled Seth’s nose. And it made him feel sick to his stomach. Acid rose in his throat as his chest throbbed painfully. This place was tainted. Tainted by greed. Sullied by a toxin that choked the life out of everything it touched.

He couldn’t stand to be there any longer… leaving it behind in the past… where it belonged. Tears threatened to fall as all those memories came crashing down on him with no mercy, like an avalanche. He grit his teeth. Damn it. Damn that bastard who held those he loved in the palm of his hand, threatening to crush them whenever he felt like it.

Seth shoved his hands in his pockets and a shaky exhale shook through him when he noticed a scrap of paper in his pocket. It was torn. The late report was taken by Camille when she left him in the dust, but this wasn’t part of it. And when Seth pulled it out, his eyes widened. His legs felt weak as he read the scrawl on the slip. The dams were destroyed. Tears ran down his handsome face. Hazel eyes were puffy and red, and were blinded by the torrent of overwhelming dread and fear as the words branded his brain.

He knows about us… and he’s watching. So please… let me go, so that I can let you go too. Please Seth, if you love me, forget about me. Hate me if you must. But let go of me so that I don’t hurt you anymore. Please…

[basket-of-radiants]

moash is a lighteye too now in theory, he became one when they gave him the shardplate adolin won.. and he was thrilled to be part of the system that oppressed him and others for so long, the only thing he wanted was revenge for himself

With reference to this.

Hello there! I’m sorry, I took my time with responding, I know I explicitly left the Discourse Box open, but we all have our limits on how many hundreds of words we can write about Moash in a short span of time. Stating right now that I don’t have my copy of Words of Radiance at the moment, so I might misremember some things.

Hmm. You’re correct that he appreciated the power that a shardblade afforded him in his society. You’re also correct that alethi society would legally have considered him a lighteyes (whether he was a lighteyes or not is a slightly more complicated question and I explained why below). And yes, revenge was a major concern of his at the time and one of the reasons why he was so happy to have this power given to him.

I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say he was “thrilled to be part of the system” because I think that even at that point he would have been happy if the entire system crashed and burned--I mean it’s not that being a lighteyes specifically enabled his revenge (although having a magic sword does help, even without the associated status), it’s that being a darkeyes had specifically inhibited it. That may seem kind of like splitting hairs, but to me Moash was just someone using the tools available to him to get what he wanted. Kind of selfish, sure, but to me that’s still worlds away from being a hypocrite who oppresses his own people for his ends and is “just like the other lighteyes.” (Were that the case, I think my criticisms of the text would exponentially increase, actually, but let’s not get into that right now.)

This is a culture that conflates racial superiority with power and autonomy. I don’t think Moash ever wanted the first thing, and I don’t think it particularly problematic for him to have wanted the rest. To say that Moash wanted to be part of that system, I think is to misunderstand the appeal of a shardblade, particularly for a character such as him. It’s not that he’s longed after what the lighteyes have and wished he could be a part of that and didn’t care about anyone else. Moash already had a goal, the same crazy impossible thought of killing a king that he’d had all the while, but he’d never had enough power for it to be remotely plausible. That’s what a shardblade is. Power. The most immediate and direct source of power that any darkeyes could ever hope to be handed. Of course he was glad to have received a shardblade, now his dreams of vengeance actually seem possible, and as a fun bonus it’s now very difficult for other people to push him around. I think that’s a bit different than enthusiastically joining an oppressor class.

All this is to say that I’ve never claimed Moash to be a good person (I’m uninterested in placing moral judgments on him for other reasons which we can also talk about later if you like.) But even if I agreed that he was a bad person, I don’t think that his badness comes from a racial angle and therefore I still think it’s problematic to outright condemn him as I still think he has a unique and important perspective on that topic.

Okay, now that I’ve explained my opinion on that, I want to talk a bit more on the topic of Moash as a lighteyes, because race in vorin societies is weird? There’s these objects that both change one’s appearance and instantly amplify their societal standing, but in spite of the legends, a darkeyes with a shardblade was so unheard of that there aren’t actually cultural norms in place for what to do with one or how to treat them. Race is a messy and complicated subject, and I’m definitely not going to drop some phd level analysis here particularly about racial dynamics that don’t actually exist and which I can only understand from the limited scope of the narrative, but I’ll give it a shot.

Yes the blade physically gave Moash light eyes, sure. Was he actually a lighteyes? I’d say that in time he could have become one, but thinking about it now, I don’t think I’d consider him to have been one, no. In practice race is about a lot more than physical traits, it’s also about how the culture views you and how you contextualize yourself in regards to it. The reason I don’t call someone such as Szeth a darkeyes is because even though physically he could be called one, he didn’t grow up in a society that cared about such things and thus forced a set of traits onto him based on his eye color. Additionally, lighteyes and darkeyes both undergo different sorts of grooming within their society and that teaches different sets of values and behaviors. Moash had been put through the darkeyes upbringing and had considered himself to be darkeyed. He still spent time with other darkeyes, he didn’t abandon his friends to move in higher circles, he didn’t participate in traditional lighteyed cultural or social events, he didn’t really change his behavior in any meaningful way I can remember.

Okay fine, maybe his behaviors did change a bit, after all he did immediately set to planning a regicide. But in in all fairness, he’d wanted to do that when he was a darkeyes too. (Also he happened to get his shardblade ten minutes before Kaladin explicitly told him he supported this plan, so that may have also factored into his motivations. Perhaps even moreso than his new lighteyes status, one could argue.)

If you think of him in the latter half of WoR as a lighteyes, I can’t say that that’s wrong. If he’d visited a random location wherein no one knew him, he would pass as one, so I grant that’s a privilege that would have gotten him leagues further than a darkeyes in many situations. He did not have any institutional or generational wealth or authority to fall back on, but I suppose after receiving the blade, Moash could have gone after land and titles and marriage prospects and attempted to position himself as a proper lighteyes. He did not do that. Instead he joined a secret society and tried to kill the king and then ultimately fled the warcamps, whereafter he was attacked by singers and had to relinquish his sword. By now at this point in the story, he has another shardblade, but he also lives in a new society wherein lighteyes and darkeyes aren’t active social castes, so it might be a little late for him.

I’m starting to ramble, so I’m cutting myself off. I guess it all falls to how you perceive race in Roshar? I dunno. I’ll say that in Oathbringer I certainly don’t consider him to be a lighteyes at any point, and he explicitly makes decisions from a place of not wanting to have to deal with this caste system ever again, which is why I don’t think it’s particularly useful to think of him as a lighteyes. I’ll save that topic for a bit later though.

Edit: Okay my sister is actually reading WoR right now and tells me that Moash actually was offered wealth and titles, which I had forgotten, but that he retained his sense of class identity.

[mellohi404]

Origins

A Sanders Sides Fanfiction I wrote based on an idea I had in the shower. (Just over 1000 words)

    “Did you guys exist before I made the first video of you?”

It was a simple question, really. Everyone was just sitting or around the couch, watching Inside Out. There wasn’t some special event that happened that made Thomas ask that question. It was just random. It was just that the sides never expected him to ask a question like that. And there was a minute or so of silence.

“Well...it’s complicated, kiddo.” The side of morality eventually spoke up. “We were there, but...we weren’t exactly..us.” Thomas gave the side a confused look. “What do you mean, Pat?” “Well…” “It’s like Inside Out! Sort of.” Roman interjected. “We existed inside of you, but as you matured and became more complicated as a person, so too, did we change and develop.” “And we didn’t exist!~” Everyone jumped a little at the new voice in the room. Remus was standing behind the couch. “Remus?! When did you get here?” Thomas asked as he sat halfway off the couch to see the intrusive side properly. “Just now. I got bored. Double Dee is here too!” There was a quiet hiss as Deceit glared at Remus. He didn’t like when Remus used that nickname around others. “What do you mean, doub-” “Well why are you two here?!” Roman yelled dramatically, interrupting Logan’s train of thought. Deceit, for once, was thankful Roman couldn’t shut his big mouth. “We didn’t want to see Thomas’s reaction to the story of our origins.” As much as Roman wanted to make the dark sides leave, not exactly trusting that they had good intentions, Thomas insisted that it’s alright and that they could stay. “But, anyway, can I hear the story?” “Of course kiddo!” Patton, with assistance from Logan here and there, started the story.

When Thomas was born, there was only one being. One “side” so to speak. This was before Thomas understood the concept of names, but the sides of present times usually call him Brain. But, again, he didn’t really have a name. He simply existed. 

As Thomas started to get older, he started to actually learn and feel emotions. When he did, Brain simply split. 

“Like fusions splitting from Steven Universe? With the light and everything?” “Exactly!” Roman yelled dramatically again. “Okay, sorry, continue.”

Brain simply split into two beings. Emotions and Information. However, Thomas being a small toddler, he didn’t know those words. So these two were simply known as “Feel” and “Know.” The first represented all of toddler Thomas’s feelings. The latter represented everything he learned. And for a while, it was just the two of them. And they got along pretty well. But after some time, another being simply appeared. He was the original Creativity. However, again, Thomas was small, and he didn’t know the word Creativity. So this being became known as “Make.” 

Feel, Know, and Make were together for a couple years. They simply existed inside Thomas’s mind, doing what they did best. But as Thomas learned right from wrong, and as he started to grow and develop mentally, there was another split. A few of them. Know became “True” and “False.” Feel became “Happy” and “Sad,” though proper names would have been Positive and Negative Emotions. And Creativity became “Good” and “Bad” Creativities. And, needless to say, they all seemed to be against each other. They were opposites after all. Happy would always try to see the good in things, while Sad would only see the bad. True and False would constantly argue and debate. And one Creativity would always try to hold the other back. It was a mess. But Thomas was alright. He was just a kid after all.

It was like this for quite a long time. Just those six beings together inside of Thomas’s brain. And while the number of beings stayed the same, the beings themselves started to change. As Thomas learned more complicated words, especially in his teens, the beings changed dramatically. True became Logic. False became Deceit. Good Creativity simply took over the name Creativity entirely, while the Bad became known as Intrusive Thoughts. Positive and Negative changed the most. Negative changed simply to Fear, and later Anxiety once Thomas discovered what that meant. Positive, with Negative becoming Fear, became all of Thomas’s Emotions. But he soon changed again and became Morality. 

“And then, much later, you made the first video, kiddo! And now here we are!” Patton said with a smile. Thomas nodded, an...interesting look on his face. It looked like he was thinking. “What are you thinking, Thomas?” Virgil asked, his hands in his hoodie pockets. He was just a second before Logan, who was going to ask the same thing. “Do you guys remember being one person? Well, except Roman and Remus, I guess. Since you weren’t part of ‘Brain’ .” Patton, Logan, Deceit, and Virgil all looked at one another. “I mean...yeah. Kinda.” Virgil finally broke the silence. “It really is quite similar to the fusions of Steven Universe, Thomas. We were one person, we were a part of that one person, therefore we remember.” Thomas nodded again. This whole time, Roman and Remus kept looking at each other. That suspicion Roman felt for his brother was gone for a few moments as he remembered the times they had when they were Creativity together…

“...Would you ever want to go back to being together?” All of the sides looked at Thomas with surprise. “I wouldn’t mind, but...I think it’s better if we stay like this!” “Agreed.” Logan added after Patton spoke. Thomas turned toward the other sides. “I would...be better if I was back in a fusion.” The snake side said first. “We aren’t the same as we were. It probably wouldn’t even work. And if it did, it could affect you.” Virgil said, a slight worry in his voice. Logan was surprised he didn’t think of that. All of the others turned to the twins, who were both still looking at each other. “Roman? Remus?” It was quiet again for a few moments. “...I couldn’t stand being stuck with my brother!” Roman finally exclaims. Remus grinned and nodded. “Disney Prince here is no fun!~” But deep down, the two knew they were lying. All of them missed being together, at least a little bit. But Thomas didn’t need to know that.

_______________________________

Welp, there's that. I hope you enjoyed it.

[sunevial]

Directors commentary: What it’s like writing the various forms of inhumanity among the followers

For this, I’m going to be completely neglecting how I write Young Priest, because he’s still basically human for the purposes of the Follower’s universe. He thinks, acts, and behaves with human qualities, even if he’s really not human anymore from a physical standpoint. That being said, there are some things I have hinted on that I’ll touch on later. 

I’ll break this up into two parts

Those Who Were Never Human, aka the Old Guard (Old Priestess, Lieutenant, Advisor)

Old Priestess is probably the most difficult character for me to write in general. She is complicated and layered, probably moreso than any other character I have to write for this universe. Compassionate yet oh so cruel, manipulative yet still somewhat caring, vain and self assured yet a little fragile, never wanting to be vulnerable yet still wanting to keep her own close to her chest. She is a scorned immortal, fallen from grace and power, and it shows in her actions and her words and the very way she carries herself. Her hatred of humanity runs deep, and no amount of revenge will satisfy it, but she is so incredibly lonely and so incredibly wounded and so incredibly filled with a sorrow even she won’t admit. 

When I write her, I write her knowing she is old, she is bitter, and that she values nature and the natural world more than anything. She is always in control of every situation she is present in, and she makes her presence known. She never uses contractions, has certain words she calls certain people, and she can flip between being terrifying to sweet on a dime. You should never feel completely safe when she’s in the room, even when she’s not using magic, and every other character knows that.

Unlike Priestess, who knows humanity inside and out, Lieutenant knew nothing of humanity before his time with the Followers. He barely registers all five senses (sight and hearing being the easiest, followed by touch, with taste and smell being the most complex), and at the very start, he only really had a grasp of one emotion: fear. By the ‘present’ day, he has collected a couple more, including anger, a sense of contentment, and possibly a sense of displeasure (and that’s pushing it). That being said, he is not a creature that knows malice, and despite his cold words, he never acts out of spite or with ill intent.

Combined with that is him being someone that is barely used to having physical presence. He never walks when he can just teleport, though he might to humor his colleagues. Physical matter confuses him, so anything that isn’t a void construct is difficult for him to properly use (his aim is terrible with anything that isn’t his knife). He rarely relies on his shell to perceive the world around him, as only a very small portion of his actual self is contained within that body. Above all, through, he is a curious individual, wanting to better understand this world he now lives in. He asks questions that most mortals wouldn’t think to ask, and even if he doesn’t feel emotions, he has learned how to perceive them well.

Advisor splits the difference between the two immortals, having less direct experience with mortals than Priestess and having a better understanding of them than Lieutenant. In many respects, he seems the most human out of them, always cordial and polite and professional in his manner. He is genuinely kind when he wants to be, always open to teach others or give a helping hand because he is a researcher and he wants to see results. 

This also makes him the most unnerving at times, because his oddness is treated so casually. He makes remarks that are eerie in their simplicity, uses reality warping magic with the same care we take to breathe, and he can read emotions and minds and the future with no effort at all. I never write his magic the same way twice, because much of his powers are based in the fact that he is chaos incarnate and does not hide that. Advisor is not scary because of what he can directly do, though that’s scary in of itself, but he’s scary because you quite simply don’t know how much he can do on the sidelines. There’s a reason why I write him with a sort of surprising upbeat flair; he doesn’t have a reason to be anything but. 

Those Who Were Once Human (Witch, Bookkeeper, Huntress, Part Timer)

As we’ve seen throughout the story of the Followers, Witch used to be a perfectly normal and perfectly sane person, someone capable of truly loving and fearing the world like a mortal. She’s no longer that person. Margaret was broken and battered, reshaped and reformed into the image of the people who trained her. Her empathy and compassion were beaten out of her, replaced with a sadistic cheerfulness that rarely drops. They bound her loyalty with string and thread, made her scream until she could scream no more, and so she was stripped of fear and sorrow. She takes deals and sells to all who come to her door. 

I write Witch to be emotive but not emotional, because while you can always tell what she’s feeling or thinking based on her expression, she doesn’t feel those emotions much at all. Her words are always just a little too empty, and that’s by design. The only time that it comes through is when she’s actively trying to care, because some small parts of her still remember what it means to be human. She shows those around her daughter, and that’s why she sounds more complete when they’re talking, because it’s the only time she is allowed such a luxury. 

Bookkeeper, in many respects, is the exact opposite of Witch. Knowing she sold her soul and life for something so trivial weighs on Bookkeeper heavily, but she does her work and she does it well. She has put up walls, walls to mimic the cold exterior of an indifferent immortal while she internally suppresses all of the emotions she still maintains. Because she feels, even if she denies that she does, because that is the only way she remains herself. She has willingly remade herself before, and she’ll do it again, becoming petty, selfish, and a master of the passive aggressive arts.

There is not a word that leaves Bookkeeper’s mouth that isn’t at least partially an insult, though she may drop that streak for Witch. She will never admit to anything willingly, but she will answer at least in half truths if directly asked. Her opinions are strong and firm, unbending and unyielding because she has read enough to win just about any argument thrown her way. She hates getting her hands dirty, but she makes no secret that she will do the work that keeps her out of the line of fire because she is deadly efficient. And deep inside her, she occasionally allows herself to pity, to care, to allow herself to care.

Huntress is stubborn, stubborn beyond belief because while being mortal, no amount of physical or mental abuse could ever make her break. She is strong, she is angry, she is flawed, but she owns every aspect of herself she likes and every aspect of herself she despises. Because of that, Huntress will always be just that, herself and there is nothing the other Followers could ever do to change that. If Huntress wishes to change, that’s on her own terms and no one else’s. That doesn’t mean she is mortal, though, because she was always just a bit more than that even in life. 

Knowing this, writing Huntress becomes a balance of making her not wanting to play nice with the other Followers but more than willing to play along. Her heart is hard and cold, and she has no sympathy for the pain of the people she loves. She laughs loudly and brashly, her emotions and actions always a little more feral. Her first resort is violence and she relishes in it, because there’s only one Follower who has a true bloodlust. She is impatient, unyielding, always up to play and to hunt and to hurt. Her compassion is rough, but it is there, and she makes sure not to lose it. It keeps her grounded.

Of the mortals, Part Timer has retained his humanity the most, and that’s saying something. Each of his personalities retain thought processes are still incredibly human, each very distinct in how they act and how they feel. Some are more caring, some are more angry, some are more scattered, and some are more logical, but all still retain a fair bit of humanity when everything is boiled down. That being said, all but one of his personalities has accepted that they can’t retain that humanity forever, and the good doctor is fighting to keep what little sanity he remains.

Taken together with his condition, Part Timer’s inhumanity is written in a man who can never be whole. He has little control of who’s in charge. His actions are consistent within the personalities, but they switch so rapidly and so violently that it’s hard to predict. While he tries to keep things light and polite, he still fears his colleagues more than he trusts them, and so he refuses to let his guard down even for a second around most of them. He resists learning magic, resists accepting its use by both the people around him and himself, because the more he leans into the use of magic, the more he loses his grip on his sense of self.

Now, for Young Priest, the challenge is to write him in a way where the hints of inhumanity are starting to creep in. He’s an artist, first and foremost, and already he’s starting to get a little lost in that world. His transformation is fueled by a desire to save his sister, so he needs the ability to do magic well. Something I’ve been trying to show how much magic tempts him, how much learning tugs at his morals and at his sense of humanity. His discomfort keeps him grounded for now, but it’s starting to lessen with every step he takes. It won’t break for a long time yet, but Priestess chose him well.

She knows that the temptation will someday outweigh his humanity, and she intends to make sure that as it happens, he stays loyal and true.

[scythian-andromache]

Now try to imagine Nile sneaking out Sunday mornings to go to church, Nicky catches on, joins her, and remembers why he joined the church in the first place. It's a liberal church, pro-gay rights, volunteers a lot in the community, and their youth group does outings with youth groups from other religions. Inspired, Joe starts returning to his own religion, and Andy scoffs at everyone until one day she starts doing some sort of prayer from the religion that she practiced before she was immortal.

Hmm. You know, as a pretty areligious person myself, I might not be the best person to answer this ask. But I'm going to try and process my thoughts, with the disclaimer that you should take everything I say with a grain of salt. (Note! I grew up in a culturally Christian society, which means that my lens is influenced by the broadly Christian paradigm, whether or not I practice a religion.) 

*** 

The idea of Nile holding on to this part of her identity is beautiful; that the faith she grew up in can still provide a touchstone to her sense of self and ground her—it's one of the main things religion is meant to do, isn't it? I like the idea of Nicky being the one to catch on, because Andy, for example, has been immortal so long that she forgets what believing in gods is like. 

I have a little bit of trouble with one part of this posited scenario, and that's the progression/characterization of Nicky's involvement, specifically that he sees a very inclusive, open church and "remembers why he joined the church in the first place", because that...is not my take on any of what Nick's first religious experiences were like. 

(I want to be clear here, since religion is a touchy subject for some—and I don’t want to offend you, anon; I really hope I’m not—that this could be my own misunderstanding based on wording, and that I'm always happy to have a dialogue about religious interpretations that don't coincide with my own.) 

I personally don't think going to that sort of church with Nile would inspire a longing in Nicky for his original church order, or to be frank, if anything would. There might be some nostalgia tied up in the prayers or the songs or community beyond the Old Guard, but I think it's important to remember Nicky's words: 

 "The love of my life was of the people I'd been taught to hate." 

Now, I'm not saying that religion was the only driving force in the "taught to hate" comment (humans have a long history of finding all sorts of reasons to hate each other), but it surely contributed to the Othering of Joe and the Caliphate forces/civilians—because we know Nicky was part of the Crusades, which, essentialized to their bare bones, were religious wars to recover the Holy Land from Islamic rule. It's religious fission and intolerance at its most explicit. 

I think it's entirely probable that Nicky's original brand of Christianity was not something he would want to return to, or even remember with any distinct fondness, because it was intolerant and unyielding. The "reasons he joined" were likely because of all the terrible things he'd been taught, indoctrinated to the idea that the Crusades were a Divine And Moral Conquest, and because of this, it becomes hard to separate the religion (its teachings and its values, the good to be had) with how it was practiced, specifically the things done in its name (atrocities, to put it mildly). 

(Note: That's not to say that I'm suggesting Nicky split entirely with his faith, but I think it complicates matters quite a lot.) 

I think it's more likely that this church of Nile's provides a wonderful foil for his own experience. If anything, I think he might be glad for the marked difference that he immediately sees, glad that the church looks nothing like his own, and might finally get why people are still actively practicing, if there are communities like this, accepting and inclusive and still rooted in the notion of something Greater. In faith of something you can't see. In this intangible purpose and meaning that religion can bestow—something that might appeal to him, especially given the implications of such a long life, where it's sometimes hard to see a greater plan or path or meaning. (We see this, explicitly, in Andy's frustration at the beginning.) In the sort of comfort all of that must provide. Nicky sees this vast contrast, and after hundreds of years, kind of starts to get it again. 

So the short answer, after all that, is that yes, we largely agree on potential headcanon premise; I can see Nile's faith reconnecting Nicky with his own, even though I took myself on a long winded semantics-based tangent in the interim because I'm Extra Like That™. 

As an addendum, I think the concept of the Immortals rediscovering their own relationships with their religions—not necessarily practicing outright, but interrogating what has changed for them and what has stayed the same given their own unique contexts, and ways that the teachings play into their philosophy, whether or not god(s) does—is a beautiful one. 

***

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 121 Thoughts

Where’s the clip... someone had to have clipped it. Or I could just not interfere with my tentatively obligatory aesthetic and do this the less fun way. Less fun  does  indeed sound like me, so

There’s this DragonBall Z Abridged line.

From one of the Bardock specials.

You know. Bardock.

He can see the future.

He has a line about all the conveniences this ability causes his life.

-ahem-

USELESS ASS PSYCHIC POWERS.

Do I even need to write this? Can it just be a chorus of what the fuck over and over? Because sincerely, what the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuuuuuuuuck.

That doesn’t even have a tune. I sort of imagined one in my head, but I’m sort of caught up on how this makes everything worse, better, and changes absolutely nothing because it’s still Eren and Zeke being on the most disastrous family trip this world has ever seen.

Let’s review.

In the way that Angelica reviews Alexander Hamilton’s quality choices in the musical.

So we’ve got Eren, who is basically dying after his epic war games decision (good grief I haven’t even read War Games, but is he Stephanie Brown in this analogy? is that what we’re dealing with? is he somehow both Stephanie Brown and Batman?) that was intending to lead into him holding his brother’s hand.

His head is shot off.

Lest we forget.

Zeke caught it.

Because he’s a Good Big Brother.

That quality pro-genocide big brothering.

Brought to you by Dad.

Yeah so. Zeke and Eren,  down  memory lane. In an Inception of their own making, only like. Actually Inception. I am going to make this post take nine times longer than it has to because I’m going to keep making pop references  instead of dealing with the content.

Inception is a movie where the plot is for a heist team to go in and plant an idea inside someone’s head so that it grows into a genuine change for the world, breaking up a giant monopoly of power and slowing human civilization’s speedy erosion. #Spoilers, I guess.

...The things I bring up in these posts are always keenly relevant, good fuck.

So that we continue to all be caught up, Eren is playing out the part of the first time this is done, where the main character plants an idea in his wife’s head that leads to the destruction of his life and her death.

With his dad playing the part of wife.

Anyway, Zeke and Eren are having an Inception.

In the real world, Zeke is holding his little brother’s decapitated head while Paradis is attacked by Marley (soon to be the entire world) due entirely to Eren and Zeke’s choices. The objective of which, for each of them, was holding hands.

Eren’s aim for that is unknown, while Zeke is shooting for a passive genocide  that the narrative is making look like the more reasonable decision based on the fuckery that has become of the unscrewed nuts and bolts inside Eren’s head.

To be clear, neither one is being reasonable.

This is a trash fire of bad decisions.

Where the person rooting for genocide mostly just has the edge of probably being the same person throughout the entire chapter, as well as his life history, while the person with the unknown aims is looking like a really good case of Inside Eren Yeager, Titan Attack You.

That was funnier in my head.

The joke is that the Attack Titan ate Eren.

Is in the process of eating Eren?

Is periodically nomming on Eren.

Results may vary.

V original theory do not steal.

Ahem.

Going back to our plot summary!

Eren and Zeke, being the quality brothers they  are,  want to hold  hands,  and being the quality human beings they are,  start a massive war  of death and  trauma  on their way to holding hands,  then they fail to  hold hands because the natural  result of the quality of their quality  is  that Eren’s head  got blown  off, so  they’re settling  for Zeke holding  Eren’s  head.

Eren is presently cast as the clear antagonist, Zeke’s idea is still awful, and they’re locked in an extradimensional space where no one else has the power to point out that their main achievement so far is being useless dumbasses.

On top of a field of bodies.

Boys.

What in the fuck.

Forget what they want to do.

By all evidence, even in the midst of other horrifying details coming to light, all that needed to happen was them making contact. That’s it. Whatever massive plan is ongoing, they just needed to hold hands.

Cue a bunch of people dying. Including probably Eren.

This is a bad plan.

I’m okay with that.

It is still one of the most insanely complicated monuments  to a zero sum game that I have ever read, and it becomes very obvious that the reason these characters have Titan powers is because if they didn’t, they would be dead the first chapter they showed up, lacking the good sense to not be dead.

First volume, sorry.

This is not a complaint. I would happily eat mountains of popcorn to the tune of canon agreeing that yes, letting Zeke and Eren come up with their own original ideas is maybe bad. It is hilarious. They are not good at this.

I realize Zeke didn’t have hands back then, but at this point both of you have to be considering that maybe you should have just bumped shoulders on the plane.

I’m sort of on the fence for how to react outside of heavy amusement, though. The downside of Zeke and Eren being so bad at this is that literally nothing is going well. Paradis is on fire again, Marley exists yet remains to let the members of its cast who sort of have morals die shocking deaths, and the fate of the world is being decided in the split second before Eren’s death between two people who should be in charge of absolutely nothing.

The rest of the cast, barring the inevitable reveal of what the fuck Eren’s got up his  sleeve, has no power over any of this.

It’s. I guess it’s what you would call appalling.

Yelena’s point of view is really the closest anyone in canon has come to understanding the situation, and boy is that telling. She sees these two men as gods. She believes in their ability to remake the world. All that falls to her is  facilitating their union.

She might have her battle lines a bit crossed, but yeah. Once Eren and Zeke make contact, all the rest of the world can do to discover its fate is wait.

That is a key Epic style plot, only it’s drawn out by Eren and Zeke both clearly not being gods. Zeke is a broken child who has made all of his decisions from a belief that the world is too cruel to be worth living in.

Eren is.

...

Eren, I’m coming back to you.

For now, let’s just dub him a disaster.

So you have the storyline of gods clashing while the mortals sit back with bated breath, but the scale of it is stomped all over because mortals who should not be making these decisions are still  making them, and neither one seems  entirely sane.

Locking Eren and Zeke in a bubble has been a source of grand entertainment, but as a story feature, the idea of these circumstances determining anything is something of a letdown.

Eren’s known for years what he’s wanted to do, and he still ends up with his head shot off while he runs too slow to stop his brother from initiating the death of their people.

Something has to give for this to feel like it matters, because right now the prevailing feeling is that these people should be as far away from power as humanly possible.

The darkness of this story is often, I feel, exaggerated. Sometimes by the author. It is a story where horrific things happen,  and are  attempted, but the hearts of all the characters we’re invited to sympathize with have always been crystal clear. There has never been a question that Zeke’s plan is wrong. There has never been a question of genocide in all its forms being inexcusable.

Reiner breaks down a wall. Bertolt breaks down a wall. Annie calls monsters to the broken wall.

Thousands of people die because children were handed power and thrown into a situation they had no hopes of understanding.

All three of the traitor kids end up traumatized. Reiner’s mind splits, Bertolt retreats so far into himself he barely engages with the world, and Annie literally crystallizes herself through the desperate desire to make it home.

There is no question that they could have been something besides murderers. They probably all would have preferred that.

This is not a grimdark series where everyone has forgotten what good things look like. Hange can design trains with prisoners of war. Niccolo can learn to care for people he’s been taught to hate. Children can be protected regardless of side.

Where the darkness comes from is not from the absence of light, but the deterioration of faith in that light.

Annie wants to go home. Bertolt and Zeke want it to end. Reiner doesn’t know right and wrong, but he’ll fulfill his duty and extend sympathy to a fellow victim  of chaos he’s not equipped to understand.

They stop seeing their fight as something that has true meaning. The most proactive hearts come from Bertolt and Zeke, who share the same mind of simply ending things, not forging a new beginning.

That’s where things get sticky with Eren and Zeke.

This chapter paints Eren in such a dark light it’s hard to hope he succeeds in whatever he’s doing, but Zeke’s wish is still something that can’t be allowed to  happen.

The scenario presented is one where the light has gone out, and the person who was counted on the be its champion has lost something essential in his humanity.

Obviously that doesn’t mean this is over, but every time the immediate entertainment of Zeke and Eren being  the worst strategists to ever live  passes, the question of what’s being fought for here comes up, and there’s no clear answer. Not with this version of Eren.

Cultivated distrust in the protagonist is nothing new, but the extent of this is impressive.

Trying to put this the simplest way I can, for the chapter, I like how this is going.

For the story, the only two people who seem to have power over changing the  state of the world are people who should have that power taken away as soon as possible.

If this weren’t all happening while Eren’s head was still falling to the ground, it would bother me less. But as things stand, nothing anyone else is doing has any impact on the story, and Eren and Zeke are impossible to root for.

That it’s probably by design doesn’t do much to make it more palatable.

Leading us into the only part of this post anyone is actually here for.

Eren.

The fuck.

I feel like it’s a fair thing to say that this might not be good.

Outside the usual realm of not good.

Also, now obligatory monthly mention that Eren looks a hell of a lot like Frieda and I want more to be done with that besides the current holder of Frieda’s memories murdering actual Frieda.

He fucking looks like Frieda.

This is why people thought Geographia was a female Eren. Even before his hair choices. Fight me.

As referenced earlier, I think a good chunk of Eren’s problem is that we’re finally dealing with the Attack Titan. Features include an immunity to the First King and the ability to see into the future.

With mixed conclusions about mindless raging.

Funny story about that! Your sons think differently. Have corpses receipts, can verify

...Hell, sorry about your life, Grisha.

(Side note, I’m pretty sure this panel is Frieda. Why? Because Isayama went to the trouble of making one of the long-haired Founders have their ears showing. That is literally the only way I can tell, and even then I’m only sure because Eren comes with a lot more extra shadow this chapter and the very next page.)

Okay, so. Uh.

Here’s where I wonder if I have the right caps for this comparison. I’m pretty sure I don’t yet. This noted time gap brought to you by me typing while I think even though no one reading this would ever know the difference.

The first thing that occurs to me is Mikasa, and cue the rabbit hole about her inheriting the Attack Titan and saying goodbye to Eren in their memories. Add in some bonus flavor about how in Trost, Mikasa’s vocalized motivation for living was being able to remember Eren. The Attack Titan is looking like a very good fit for her.

As for why Mikasa occurs, well!

Note that the key difference in these scenes is that Mikasa is encouraging Eren to transform so fewer of them will die. Eren is encouraging Grisha to transform so the Reiss family absolutely will die.

Sorry, ‘encouraging.’

I feel like I’m more at peace with some of Grisha’s interactions with Eren the last night of his life. As well as the display involved in killing the Reiss family. That’s always been one of the bloodier massacres we’ve played witness to. I passed it off as Grisha being unhinged by how badly everything was going and how it was all his fault, but...

T-tatakae?

-scrolls through images-

Hey so anyone else have fond memories of chapter 63? You know, back when Historia’s allegiance was in question because she was siding with her father and being a very generous-minded child about why Eren was strung up in chains and gagged?

Remember how she got all her memories of Frieda back and glared at Eren even though his father was the one who killed off her beloved older sister, and it was an amusing moment of irrationality in a sea of Historia having a low wisdom score?

Look at her glaring at the last person who deserves to be glared at over the massacre of the only family who treated her kindly!

...

Yikes?

Like, I don’t think she knows, because as tolerant as Historia is of people committing atrocities, Frieda is a sore point, but I think at this point, Isayama probably knew what actually went down with the bloodbath.

Easter eggs. Fun for the whole fandom.

In other fun news, I’ve made the comment several times that one of the sad points of Historia’s situation is Eren is her best friend, given how the story has limited her contact so thoroughly with the other people she cares about.

My brotp has seen better days.

The effect of Historia’s hand coming out of the darkness, Historia herself completely shrouded in the shadows as Eren takes it and discovers the worst moments of his life he hasn’t lived through yet...

Hell, the layout of this chapter is beautiful. All of it, including the very obvious descent into Eren being not quite right.

He’s unlocked the Attack Titan’s powers, and with it, I think a will that is more indomitable than anything Eren the person would have been okay with. Really, I don’t know how much of this is Attack Titan brain sickness, and how much is that Eren already saw himself doing all of this crap, so how bad was doing it one more time?

He’s lived through betraying his friends. He’s killed children. He’s killed the entire family of a friend who saved his life.

What’s doing it twice?

In the grand scheme of all Eren has seen, how bad is anything he’s done recently? Civilians are dead, but bad people are too. People who would hold power the wrong way.

I want to say that Eren’s choices are a result of the Attack Titan having a mind of its own, and between that and the other memories in Eren’s head, his intentions have been corrupted, but that’s mostly me trying to find a way for Eren, as he has been, to survive.

Eren looks at the Reiss family, sees his father hesitating, and takes the lead himself.

The Attack Titan can travel the Paths through time, and Eren, the character most angry about cages, decides that the way things were is the way things should be, even if what happened was wrong.

I realize it’s partly my priorities with the series which keeps the thread of fate so active a plot point in my mind. I’m always going to see Ymir demanding to know  why Kristoria’s strength hasn’t turned into trying to change her own fate as a key theme of the series.

Eren had choices.

Maybe something catastrophic would have happened, but nothing forced him to make his father murder the Reisses. Going by his expressions, he’s not entirely okay with it, and the second they step into that cavern he knows that he’s at the hard part...

But he still does it.

He chooses to let the story play out as he knows it instead of allowing his father’s kindness to change the world.

I don’t know what Eren plans to do with the Founder’s power. Evidence points to him still wanting a better world for the people born into it. He disdains Zeke’s plan.

Nothing about this screams that this is what he wants. There’s a person in Eren still, recognizable as the young boy who wrapped a scarf around a cold girl’s neck.

Eren’s eyes are firmly on Mikasa and Armin when he walks his memories of them. He’s ignoring Zeke completely to stare at the warmth of his childhood. That isn’t someone who’s completely lost.

Yet he still pulls the trigger on this.

This isn’t what the Eren we’re familiar with would call freedom; adhering to what happened in the past just because it already happened.

Fight. If you don’t fight, you can’t win.

Zeke isn’t fighting, for all he’s holding back Eren.

Eren’s fighting something, but holding to the path already plotted instead of changing it.

I can’t imagine what Eren saw to push him this far. He’s not happy. He’s not winning. Not even over Zeke. He’s lost the love and confidence of everyone who has ever cared for him

Frieda only transforms after Grisha does. She waits for him. She waits to see if peace wins out.

The Attack Titan, as ever, has other ideas.

Not good ones. Just. You know. Different ones.

In conclusion Eren is a Billie Eilish fan.

[dr-mizmix]

ICE CREAM (1/2)

TRIGGER WARING

Gore

13+

Enjoy!

Sometimes good people do bad things because they are in need. Sometimes bad people do good things because they feel pressured. There's a grey area between good and evil and the Umbrella Academy fills a great part of it. Sometimes some people just want to see the world on fire and when firefighters can no longer help, The Umbrella Academy is the one responsible of stopping these pyromaniacs.

Half the shopping center was already gone when they arrived at the scene. The flames that once roared fiercely, now remained dormant as the firefighters poured tons of water in an attempt of stopping the catastrophe. All bystanders had already been evacuated, filling the streets with the sounds of screams and sirens. Hargreeves piloted the helicopter to the roof where he dropped the five children.

"Number One, your mission is to move any rubles that may hinder your way" Luther complacently nodded. "Number Two, you shall stay alert and take down any possible attackers that you may see, hear or feel. Understood?" Diego was glaring at a corner when Hargreeves last words caught his attention. "Huh? Sure." Hargreeves sighed.

"Now, Number Three, it is vitally important for you to calm down all the citizens who were affected" Alison turned really upset. She wanted to go where the action was and spending her afternoon rumoring people wasn't her ideal plan. "I heard…" Hargreeves turned really fast and hit her in the mouth with a cane "Young lady, you will do as you are told. Attempting to use your powers on me won't get you anything." Alison's expression did not change but her eyes quickly became watery and her lips got swollen in a matter of minutes.

"As for you Number Four…" Klaus interrupted "Let me guess, I will be the lookout?" Hargreeves smiled "Actually, in this case you are going to be required" Klaus looked at him incredulous" One of the members was killed because his contacts with the police. And while we can't be a hundred percent sure they were right, we can safely assume he'll probably want to get some kind of revenge." Klaus tried to contain himself as he stared down and mumbled God knows what about what just happened.

"And lastly Number Six you must take down the remaining attackers in case you get the chance to sneak on them" Ben sighed. "Do I really have to?" "Number Six, you already know the answer to that question" Ben sighed again, this time placing his mask while doing it "I know."

The mission was successful. As successful as a bunch of children with superpowers capturing a group of pyromaniacs can get. Luther, as always did everything as he was told, no questions; Even though Diego had a harder time following orders he completed his task without complications; Alison complained a lot about her task. She tried to get away from it but in the end she finished it with a sore throat and exhausted; It's not a mystery that Klaus had a hard time. Not only the ghost he was trying to contact was a dick but also the place was full of other spirits who haven't been invited into Klaus' mind, but decided to get in anyway.

All said undoubtedly Ben got the worst experience out of the whole team. His prayers did not matter because in the end they were 'lucky' and they could sneak up on the pyros. Which meant he had to do his thing. Ben could feel how a monster moved around his stomach. He knew what was going to happen and before he could realize, it already had started. The creature erupted from his guts and grabbed the men violently, hitting them with the walls furniture and each other. He closed his eyes at the sound of the screams getting louder and louder. Then they stopped. He opened his eyes and found himself covered in all kinds of body bits and fluids, specially blood. Hargreeves announced their victory and they went back on their way home.

"Are you ok?" Ben looked to his side, it was Klaus. "Yeah, it's just that… Blood is so gross and you can't actually get it out" Klaus laid his arm around him. With his other hand he gave him a tissue. "You know what always cheers me up?" Ben smiled as he cleaned some of the blood from his face. "Let me guess. Ice-cream" Klaus gasped "How did you know?" "It makes up basically half your diet" Diego peeped his head from his seat "Are you guys talking about ice-cream? 'cause I wouldn't mind having some" Luther, who has just heard them, decides to join them "Yeah dad, can we please go get some ice-cream? It will bring up the teams unity and moral!" Hargreeves was not having it and was about to shut them down when suddenly Alison decided to get involved "I heard a rumor that after every mission we go to get some ice-cream" This time the old man didn't have time to shut her up so her willing became a reality. They stopped the closest ice cream shop and everyone got in line for an ice cream. Even Vanya.

Alison was the first one in the line after all she's the reason why they are allowed to be here "What flavor did you pick Luther?" Luther looked at the list of what it seemed like endless flavors "I don't really know, I might just stick with strawberry" "Boring! How about you Klaus?" Klaus was extremely concentrated on the ice-cream list, to a point where it would have been concerning if it wasn't Klaus. "Ugh. Nevermind. How about you Ben? Are you going to pick vanilla?" Ben smiled at her "Not this time" Alison was shocked "What? But I already ordered mine and I wanted us to have matching ice cream" Ben sticked his tongue out "This time I want to be a revel. I'm going with chocolate" Vanya who had remained silent this whole time raised her head "I ordered chocolate too! What a coincidence" "Is nobody going to ask me what did I order?" Diego mumbled from his chair, kind of pissed. "What did you order Diego?" Diego jumped of his chair trying to show of his banana split unfortunately bashing into the waiter who was bringing Vanya's ice-cream. "My ice-cream…" Ben, who already had his quickly tried to offer a solution "Here you can have mine" Vanya placed a sad smile "I can't accept it because then you won't have any" Ben smiled "I don't care" Vanya was already eating her new ice cream when Klaus came shouting "Do not worry siblings! Because I'm here to save the day" He takes out his double popsicle and offers half to Ben. When they try to break it in half, Ben gets a considerably bigger half and they all laugh.

[ailuronymy]

Guest Warriors-ify: Law and Order: SVU

Captain Don Cragen Waspstar, formerly Waspfur An older, chubby golden brown tabby tom with brown eyes, Waspstar is a stoic leader, one of the best his clan has ever known. Though he has no kits of his own, he thought of his clan as his child, and was beloved by many, though he could be strict if called for. When he was on his last life, he retired peacefully to the elder’s den.

Detective Elliot Stabler Sootstorm A dark gray, almost black tom with piercing amber eyes, Sootstorm is known for his temper. He believes strongly in the warrior code, but can be very violent with those who broke, or those who he believes have broken it. However, he is also a doting father to his many kits with his mate Daisyflower, though he doesn’t see them often, as he is constantly volunteering for patrols and battles on behalf of his clan. He was very close with Bramblestar, though they argued viciously from time to time. However, when he accidentally murdered a cat from another clan in battle, he left the clan, taking his mate and kits with him.

Lieutenant Olivia Benson Bramblestar, formerly Brambleheart A pretty brown tabby molly with brown eyes, Bramblestar is a devoted leader to her clan. Bramblestar is very dedicated to standing up for those without power or who have been hurt by injustice, and sometimes that makes her blind to the larger situation, but since she has become leader, she has been working harder on overcoming this flaw. She can be a little overzealous at times, but every cat in the clan knows that Bramblestar’s heart is in the right place. Though she always wanted kits, she never found a mate, but when an abandoned kit was found by her on clan territory, she adopted him as her own, naming him Acornkit.

Sergeant John Munch Sleetpelt A pale gray dappled tom, Sleetpelt is considered quite the character by the other cats in his clan. He is extremely paranoid, always coming up with wild theories about everything, from the weird mushrooms growing outside camp to his favorite sunning rock being moved just a few paces away. Though most of his theories are considered crazy, he has been right, to the surprise of his clanmates, many times, and he was a more than worthy deputy of his clan before he retired. Sleetpelt is also very fond of the apprentices, as he was a great mentor in his day, and always leaves a little time to chat with them especially.

Sergeant Fin Tutuola Molefang A black tom with amber eyes, Molefang is the current deputy of his clan, under Bramblestar. Though he can be lazy, Molefang is very loyal, and a very adept hunter and fighter when it gets down to it. Molefang is not one to get involved with the drama of his clanmates, and was honestly not expecting to be chosen as deputy, though since then he has stepped into the role with gusto. Molefang was once a distant father to his son, Starlingheart, but they have reconnected since Starlingheart has become a warrior and are now closer than ever.

ADA Alex Cabot Goldenleaf A tall, golden tabby molly, Goldenleaf was the clan’s medicine cat with a strong respect for the warrior code. She was trained as a medicine cat by her uncle, and many in the clan believed she was chosen just because they were kin. However, she more than proved herself, and she earned the -leaf suffix, denoting her amazing skill at healing. She was especially close with Brambleheart and Sootstorm, as they trained at the same time and earned their full names around the same time. However, when Goldenleaf taunted the vicious leader of a group of rogues, they began to hunt her down. She was wounded terribly in a surprise attack, and though she survived, her close friends Brambleheart and Sootstorm helped her fake her own death so that the rogues would leave the clan alone, as they were only after Goldenleaf. She has since become a loner and changed her name, and though she misses serving her clan dearly, she knows she can never return.

ADA Casey Novak Burnetheart A fiery ginger molly with a temper to match her pelt, Burnetheart was Goldenleaf’s apprentice before she “went to Starclan” and she still mourns her, though she is slightly upset that her mentor has never visited her in her dreams. Burnetheart is a very opinionated molly, and this often grates on other cats in the clan, especially Brambleheart, whose morals or methods are often contrary to Burnetheart’s. Her hot head and strong morals often get her in trouble, and many in the clan distrusted her after she healed a rogue who had viciously attacked Sootstorm, though it was found to be no fault of the rogue’s. Because of this, she left the clan, though not after thoroughly defending herself and her actions. She didn’t go far, however, and she is still friendly with some in the clan, although others still distrust and dislike her.

Detective Nick Amaro Crowfang A black tom with white spotting on his chest and paws, Crowfang is a skilled hunter and fighter, as well as a doting father to his daughter, Dipperpaw. Though he and her mother split up, he makes sure to spend much of his time with her, and with Rookpaw, his newly discovered son, who he had with a kittypet before he and his mate had Dipperpaw. He is a hard worker, and is close to Bramblestar, and many in the clan whispered that he would have been chosen for deputy if it weren’t for his accident. While hunting with his kits, Crowfang chased a squirrel across a thunderpath, not realizing that a monster was coming. His leg was mangled, and he was forced to retire to the elders den early.

Detective Amanda Rollins Honeynose A pretty golden brown tabby molly, Honeynose is a former kittypet who was brought to the clan by her mother when she and her twin sister, Tansycloud were apprentice age. Honeynose quickly surpassed that part of her life, working hard and adjusting to warrior life quickly, but Tansycloud did not, and sorely missed her old life as a house pet. Soon after the sisters were rewarded with their warrior names, both Tansycloud and her mother returned to Twoleg-place, leaving Honeynose in the clan all alone. Honeynose, though a skilled hunter, has issues with authority, since she had a terrible mentor, an indulgent mother, and an absent father for most of her life. She fell quickly for Crowfang, and though he didn’t entirely return her feelings, they had a small affair. Following that, Honeynose had another affair with a loner, and she soon found out she was pregnant. Though she had some complications bearing the litter, she adores her one surviving child, Morningkit, to Starclan and back, and though she had doubts, turned out to be a great mother.

ADA Rafael Barba Aspenleaf A somewhat short gray tabby tom with unusual green eyes, Aspenleaf is the current medicine cat of the clan. He is very sarcastic and sometimes abrasive, and would have been worthy of the -storm suffix if not for his skill at medicine, which some say surpass even Goldenleaf’s before him. He joined the clan after abandoning his former one, which he felt was holding him back from succeeding as a medicine cat. He does not like to be reminded of this, but he is still close with his mother, and his grandmother before she joined Starclan. Though many consider Aspenleaf’s barbed nature to be off putting, he is still very close with Bramblestar, and, as much as he would loathe to admit it, Fenneltail.

Detective Sonny Carisi Fenneltail A tall, thin golden brown tabby tom with blue eyes and white spotting, Fenneltail is an enthusiastic young tom whose friendly and inquisitive nature can sometimes be a bit much for other members of his clan. He is very connected to Starclan, and is interested in the medicine cat position, although he says he prefers being a warrior. His interest at first annoyed Aspenleaf, but soon the gray tabby grew accustomed to Fenneltail’s chatty presence in the medicine den. Fenneltail is very close with his family, which includes his 3 sisters, who are all his littermates, and his parents. He is also close with Honeynose, and they often hunt or play with Morningkit together, though they are not mates and have no interest in that kind of relationship with each other.

Sergeant Mike Dodds Cormorantclaw A black tom with a dash of white on his chest, this dashing tom was the clan’s deputy before Molefang. He comes from a long line of senior warriors and clan deputies, so he had a lot to live up to, which was added onto by the fact that his father, who was also his mentor, had very high expectations for him. However, he exceeded these expectations, especially on the battlefield, soon earning the suffix -claw. He was Bramblestar’s first picked deputy, as she felt she needed a cat more used to leadership at her side. Though he had a rocky start, Cormorantclaw soon grew to be a respected deputy, one skilled both in battle and in diplomacy, as he was good at soothing tempers and defusing situations. The clan believed he would make a fine leader, after Bramblestar of course, as he was young and healthy when he was appointed. However, while on patrol with Bramblestar, they were ambushed by rogues and it soon became a standoff, resulting in Cormornatclaw’s death.

[kendrixtermina]

Thoughts and Feelings about“Change Your Mind”

I really wish I could rewatch this motherfucker somewhere but I have to sleep and go to work 

Well on the one hand the main story lines are pretty much done for, on the other, the fallout alone could fill another season, and I’m actually glad that they’re not relegating that to the epilogue but actually going to show it

I assume season 5 will be Steven working with the Diamonds to improve homeworld, explaining things to Jasper, integrating the former corrupted gems on earth, finding out the deal with pink pearl, further developing Steven’s new fusions etc. 

Other open questions involve gem origins and peridot’s renewable energy project, but I suppose that will come up as Steven tries to make the Empire less... imperialistic. 

I understand why they wanted to air this in one piece, you couldn’t leave the younger viewers hanging with some of these creepytastic scenes and no resolution

There’s various concepts I feel reminded of. 

There’s this idea of “tzimtsum” in kaballalistic thought, about how God created the world - In order to create a being apart from himself, he “hid” some aspects of the being, the ones that would seem - So every part of creation reflects one aspect of god, but none shows the complete pictures of it, and because everything has some aspects of god but not others, it is unique - so all humans are made in gods image, but still be different from each other.  

Maybe Pink Diamond would be something like Lucifer in this analogy, part of the creation but as far from the god as you can get while still existing, and somehow their antithesis (stretching the analogy here, of course Judaism has no counterpart to Lucifer let alone the positive-ish early modernity interpretions of him - but of course, White Diamond isn’t exactly a benevolent God either. )

First of course Star Trek, like the ep where Captain Kirk is split into what at first seems like his good and evil half but is more like his animal instincts and higher reasoning, or in Voyager, when B’Elana Torres is split into her human and Klingon halves. 

I guess Garnet wasn’t completely wrong in his being something in-between fusion and human reproduction, his gem half could be considered A Pink Diamond, but not the same one who created him - He must be fricking powerful to shrug off WD’s beams like that, like how Stevonnie still has “boosted” versions of Steven’s abilities despite Connie being human, Steven’s probably like Pink Diamond, but ‘boosted’.  

Steven’s victory certainly showcases how it comes from both sides of his heritage. It involves making WD laugh/embarassed like what Pink used to do, but unlike her, he has the communication skills from Greg - I don’t think Pink ever talked to Blue in that way, she didn’t seem aware of what the other Diamonds were thinking at all, any more than she really understood Pearl’s lingering knot of complexes. It’s just not a skill she could have picked up before Greg - when? From whom?  

His responsibility is all uniquely him and due to his upbringing with the CG’s and wanting to help him more, tho, both his parents where free spirit hippy bohemians, but it was Steven who decided “Nope, I WANT to fix it, because I can”, not because he owes it to anybody, even when no one could fault him for running. 

Also, Frankenstein (the Novel not the film) - The original Victor was a sympathetic, even admirable character, but somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to have empathy with the monster, though Adam was in many ways alike to him and initially didn’t wish to be his enemy.  Because while the gems relate to White Diamond as their goddess and the other Diamonds see her as their mother, she seems to regard them as extensions of herself. Maybe she would, as their creator. Gods are expected to smile benevolently upon their followers and solve their problems, Mothers, while they are flawed humans,  are supposed to love their kids as they are and realize that they become their own persons, but artists frequently tear up their own work if they’re dissatisfied with it, because it’s supposed to be a reflection of their existence, so they might hate it for not reflecting them well enough - 

i often regret tearing up half my teenage fanfics, but I’m able to view them different now that I’m - Back then, I felt like they reflectzed badly onto me - but if had kids and treated them like my fanfics or crumpled drawings, well, that would scar them for life. 

You could certainly see this as a metaphor for narcissism, particularly in the way WD judged everything by how much it was like her, to the point that she would ‘overwrite`’ ppl’s personalities with her ideas of how it ought to be, while lacking a solid identity of her own apart from being “perfect/the best” by default, but that only goes so far because the gems literally are her creations who take their characteristics from various aspects of her being. 

She’d have a completely different conceptual framework to anyone else, though she’s certainly not “above it” in any way. 

I don’t think she was completely unaffected by Pink’s dissapearence either, if you want to complete the Stages of Grief analogy she would be Denial or Bargaining. Most likely,  she was growing increasingly frustrated with her ability to make her empire “perfect” like she ought to and that’s why she started keeping to herself more and assuming that Pink couldn’t be dead. 

She seemed like the knowing one when she was as much in denial as anyone else - you can tell they had a complicated relationship because of how White saw herself in her, that might be why she indulged and preferred her, but then again she didn’t always like what she saw and felt that Pink represented parts of her that she didn’t want to see. 

It’s not without reason that Steven tells her to “get out of her own head” and try to see the world for what it is rather than her preconceived notions of what it is or means. You could perhaps relate that to 

When she realizes that she’s actually dead - that’s when she has her breakdown. 

You could even draw a parallel to “Romeo And Juliet”, where the older generation only realizes how much its ways were fucked up when it gets their beloved children killed for just trying to live happy lives. 

Cal Gustav Jung would certainly remind us that what irritates us about others are often things that irritate us about ourselves, that we may be liable to “see the world as we are” and never is that more apparent than when we view everything through some skewed belief system, or when we hate - people hate people who blur boundaries because they don’t want to confront the ambiguity within themselves, or act as “superior” and merciless because they’ve rejected their own mortal fragile humanity.

Another observation is that when you set up anything as the “default” you create pressure not to deviate from the norm and prevent its members from experiencing their individuality. (see societal pressure on heterosexual men, or Euro-Americans saying they ‘have no culture to celebrate’ - maybe instead of becoming a devouring plague upon your fellow men, you could actually appreciate European culture? Like, read some books, eat some cheese, learn a language, listen to some classical music, vote for worker protection laws?)

It speaks for PD that she even tried to save other aliens at some point. steven stepped completely out of her shadow the moment he was able to feel sorry for her, like “Geez, she had to live like that? No wonder she turned out the way she did!” he pretty much calls the other Diamonds out at some point, like he gets a secure sense of the differences between them when he realizes how much better off he’s been in his own life. Like, UGH. 

For my part, I don’t believe the “best of the worst” thing was true, and more of an “evil cannot comprehend good” moment from White, if not outright projection. (after all, White seems to view all other Gems as imperfect copies of herself) If anything, Pink seemed upset that she got stuck being the leader even as “Rose Quartz” (see the Beach scene in “Greg the babysitter”) - but of course Steven, not being Pink, wouldn’t know whether or not White is right. 

Other Thoughts:

In the earlier scenes you could see a lot of parallels to less than ideal family situations, and how people might end up acting as proxies of the problematic person, almost sprouting their words, in the name of keeping the peace, and how people in such an environment may have no idea of how it’s not normal

You CAN talk down such a person (I know of multiple people who made a bona fide job out of talking sense into literal nazis and clansmen, person by person - their tactic was generally to find whatever problem their rage came from), but there’s a difference between “flawed” and “awful” and I do think it came through that White is a piece of work quite unlike, say, Connie’s mother, and that Steven’s dealing with her because he wants to for the good of society, because he’s the bigger person and secure in himself,  not because he owes it to her or anything

It seems like they went for “awesome” rather than “beautiful” with Steven’s fusions. The designs are kinda gaudy, but even so, once you getpast the gaudy design, it’s kind of touching how Steven’s and Garnet’s fusion is essentially a motivational speaker who sprouts encouraging advice nonstop. Garnet was always Steven’s Mentor and  as well as the main person (besides greg) to teach him morals, as well as generally encouraging & supportive, but Steven of course encourages and supports her too, and both like doing that for others

I love Peridot’s short shorts and that she and Bismuth repaired the ships/ went a-tinkering together. It took me a bit to notice that it’s supposed to be shorts and not just her old outfit with starts instead tho

Voice of Reason!Connieis a gift that keeps on giving

[kiapet2]

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 16: Caro Mio Addio

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: A last goodbye.

Chapter Warnings: Past Serious Injury, Leaving Loved Ones Behind

Thomas, can you hear me? C’mon kiddo, you’re gonna be okay, just wake up!

Do not worry, Patton. While some health complications are to be expected, he was only exposed to the extreme conditions of space for six point five seconds, well below the threshold for death.

Do you remember in that one movie when the guy got blown out the airlock and he turned blue and swelled up until his eyes popped out of his head and he exploded?

Oh my god, can you shut up???

Hold up guys, I think he’s coming to.

You groan, blinking as your vision fades in and out of focus.

“Thomas? Can you hear me?” It’s Roman’s voice, you think, and you look up at the others, a rainbow of colors shining down at you.

“M’good,” you slur. “Actually, everything hurts, but what else is new.”

“We need to get him to a MedPod!” Virgil says. “We don’t know how badly hurt he is. He could be dying!”

“A wise course of action,” Logan says. “I believe the closest is-”

“Wait,” you grunt. You take a deep breath, fighting to stay conscious. “Hold up, guys. There’s one- one thing we need... to do first.”

You look down to where Patton is still cradled in your arms.

“Wha- me?” Patton says.

You nod, instantly regretting it when your head bursts into pain. “There’s one more core to be added, before you’re complete.”

Patton looks back and forth between you and where the other Cores are gathered, then rapidly shakes his head. “No, I couldn’t. Not after all of that.”

“Sure you can,” Roman says.

Patton shakes his head even harder. “You never should have chosen me-”

“No, we were right to pick you,” you say.

“What? No, how can you-”

“We were right,” you repeat, as firmly as you can manage while barely conscious. You smile faintly at Patton. “We were wrong to pick only one person, but we were right to think you’d be the one who could resist the corruption. Because you were.”

“But I didn’t!” Patton practically wails. “I nearly destroyed the facility, I- I hurt you-”

“But in the end,” you say, “You chose to let Janus replace you, so the-”

A fresh wave of pain hits and you close your eyes against it, hissing through your teeth. When you open them again the others are giving you concerned looks, but you just take a deep breath and press on.

“-so the facility could be saved.”

“And you weren’t even trying to kill Thomas!” Roman says. “The other two tried to kill him like the whole time. That’s gotta count for something!”

“Right, he only tried to kill me,” Janus drawls. “Totally different.”

“Of course it is!” Virgil says. “You tried to kill us first. Payback’s a-”

“The point,” Logan interjects, “Is that despite your missteps as head of the facility, you ultimately demonstrated the ability to give up your power, despite being under rather extreme influence to do otherwise.”

“They’re gonna need you, Pat,” you say. “They need their Morality.”

Patton trembles in your hands, rattling faintly.

“Alright,” he says after a moment. “If that’s what you all want, then I’d do it. I’ll join you.”

The others give cheers and words of encouragement as the robotic body lowers to your level. You carefully press Patton against the final port, feeling a click as he locks into place.

Task done and energy spent, you let your hands fall as the world fades into unconsciousness yet again.

Music is the first thing you’re aware of: a cheery tune playing on loop, coming from somewhere nearby. You groan and shift slightly, feeling too comfortable to want to move. You blink your eyes open and squint at the bright light as the clear covering above you slides open.

“Dim that light!” someone barks. “And will someone turn off that god-awful music?”

“I dunno, it’s kinda grown on me,” someone else says, but after a moment the music stops and the light above you dims.

As the spots in your vision clear you see several familiarly round shapes peering down at you.

“Thomas?”

You groan and push yourself to a seated position. You’re in the same room as you were before, but it looks substantially different. The holes in the ceiling have been patched, and colorful tiles have been added to the walls, breaking up their sterile appearance.

A metal grabby arm comes out from the ground, and you flinch as it comes near, but it just deposits a soft blanket around your shoulders before disappearing again. You pull it tighter around yourself as you look at the others.

“How are you feeling, Thomas?” Logan says gently.

You pat down your front, marveling at the lack of pain. “Surprisingly, pretty okay.”

“We were really worried for a bit there, kiddo,” Patton says, “but you should be right as a rainbow now. The healing chamber didn’t even give you another nipple!”

You self-consciously feel at your chest, then glance down when you feel soft fabric in place of your dirty old tester uniform. You didn’t notice before in your haste to check for injuries, but you’re now wearing a simple tee shirt and sweatpants, both emblazoned with the Aperture Science logo. You decide you’re going to be appreciative of the more comfortable clothes and not think about a group of ball-shaped robots seeing you naked.

Speaking of certain metal balls…

You look up and get a good look at the others for the first time. You don’t know what you expected- Janus’ snake-like body with everyone else latched onto the side, maybe- but instead the mechanical form in front of you looks almost like an upside-down tree. The long, flexible body forms the “trunk,” but instead of continuing until it reaches the Core at the end it instead splits into six about halfway down, each of the Cores appearing to operate one part independently of the others. It should look almost bizarre, but instead you find there’s a strange sort of beauty to it.

“And… you guys?” you say, almost afraid to ask.

“Our behavior seems to be within acceptable parameters,” Logan says. “There have also been no attempts at murder or kidnapping so far, though with the only human unconscious I am unable to say for sure if this was due to lack of human subjects.”

“Naw, there’s plenty of things around we could still murder!” Remus says. “Turrets, plants, that bird that flew in before we fixed the roof, each other…”

“But we’re not doing that,” Roman says pointedly.

“Nope!” Remus agrees cheerfully. “Fun to imagine, though!”

You can’t help it; you break into a smile, then a laugh.

“Hm,” Janus says with exaggerated seriousness, “It looks as though we may have corrupted Thomas this time. Such a dark sense of humor, Thomas!”

“You’re part of me, so what does that say about you?” you say, still smiling.

“Clearly, I am the superior part,” Janus says snottily.

Virgil snorts. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“Well I think you’re all pretty great!” Patton says.

“Right back at you, Pops,” Roman says, but Patton just ducks his head and doesn’t respond.

That’s a wound that’s probably going to take some time to heal, you think. But Patton is probably the strongest person you know, er well, the strongest person you’ve met since you woke, and he has the others now. He’ll be alright.

You stand, wobbling a bit before steadying yourself, and take a few steps across the room. You don’t know if it’s the healing chamber or just getting hydration, nutrition and sleep, but you’re actually feeling pretty good, all things considered.

You look back at the others and smile. “You patched me real good. Thanks, guys.”

“Technically, the healing chamber did all the work,” Logan says, then adds on, “but you’re welcome after Patton pointedly clears his throat.

“Thomas,” Roman says with uncertainty in his voice, “I know you just woke up, but… do you know what you’re going to do now?”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face. A few days ago you would have answered “get out of here as soon as possible,” but a lot has changed since then. You’ve found friends- family really- and are loath to leave them. But at the same time, you’re not sure you could survive spending the rest of your life in this place.

“Give me a few days?” you say tentatively.

“Of course,” Janus says. “Tell us whenever you’re ready.”

And so for the next week or so, you stay. You eat canned meals and vitamin supplements, sing and dance with Roman and the others, monitor everyone for any signs of negative influence and have long discussions about the hundreds of humans still suck in cryosleep and the best, most humane ways to wake them.

It’s… good. It feels nice to be around these people- these parts of you- without the constant threat of death hanging over your head.

And yet, by the end of the week you find yourself packing a satchel full of food and survival equipment, and then trekking up to the Control Chamber to see the others.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” Janus says flatly, as soon as he sees your face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love all of you, and if I could stay with you and be happy I would. But it would kill me to live my life here. I want to see the sky.”

The Cores all exchange looks, then Patton says, “we understand.”

“You’re welcome back anytime you want to visit,” Virgil says. “Not that anyone ever really visits Aperture, but if you’re in the neighborhood…”

“I’ll look you up,” you say, the thought bringing a smile to your face.

“Virge,” you say, “I’m really glad I met you. You’ve saved my life so many times, and taught me so much about myself. I’m never going to think of my anxiety the same way again.”

“Doofus,” Virgil mutters, but he’s smiling so you call it a win.

You turn to Patton next.

“Thomas,” he says, “I’m so sorry for everything, again. I just knew everyone was counting on me, and I got it into my head that I couldn’t fail, no matter what.”

“But you can fail,” you say, directing your smile towards him. “Because someone is always gonna be there to catch you.”

Patton bends down, and you gather him into a hug. “I’ll miss you, Thomas,” he says.

You hug tighter, ignoring the metal digging into your arms. “I’ll miss you too.”

“Next, you go to Roman. “You’ll need to have many more adventures, for me,” he says, chuckling wetly.

“Same to you,” you say, trying really hard at this point not to choke up yourself. “Always remember how special you are, okay?”

“I will,” Roman says, “I swear it.”

You turn to Logan. “Logan, you’ve been my rock this whole time. I don’t know where any of us would be right now without you.”

Logan makes a noise like clearing his throat, as if self-conscious. “You also have taught me much, Thomas. I am honored to be a part of you.”

You don’t turn to Remus so much as have him tackle-hug you.

“I heard there are nasty looking aliens out there,” he says. “Kill one for me?”

You laugh again. “You know what? If I can handle things in here, I can handle a few aliens.”

And finally, there’s Janus, fully restored in his black-and-yellow casing. For a moment you stare at each other, neither sure exactly what to say. Then you say, “I know we started off a bit rough, but I’m really glad to have known you. I consider you a friend.”

“The same to you,” Janus says, and this time you know he isn’t lying.

You hold out the portal gun. “Thank you for letting me use this- even though you originally intended to kill me and get it back.”

“Keep it,” Janus says softly. “It will be harder to use outside, but not impossible. Around him the others all nod their agreement, and that’s when the tears come.

“Goodbye,” you say as you step into the elevator and the doors close behind you. “Goodbye.”

Halfway up, the elevator slows and the door opens. In front of you is a massive chamber absolutely full of turrets, and for a moment you’re convinced you’re about to die, before you see that none of them are shooting or even aiming.

The turrets begin to sway their side flaps back and forth, and sounds of music come from them, halting at first but growing in strength and complexity as more join in. Then, a voice comes in with the melody, apparently from nowhere- a rich baritone, strikingly similar to your own.

Roman.

Another voice joins it, similar to Roman’s but with a distinct rasp that you know belongs to Virgil. More voices add to the song: Patton’s, clear and gentle like a lullaby; Logan’s, starting out pitchy but growing in strength and certainty as he continues; Janus, dark and smooth as chocolate, and finally Remus rounding out the harmonies in a nasal tenor. It’s a song of farewell, one that grows to a crescendo as your elevator once again begins to rise, before coming to a gentle resolution as the elevator arrives at its destination.

You blink the tears out of your eyes as the elevator doors open, revealing another door that slowly swings open to reveal light too warm and bright to be anything artificial. You look back over your shoulder one more time as you let your eyes adjust.

“Thank you for everything,” you whisper, not sure if the others can still here you but still wanting to try. “Goodbye.”

Then you step out into the light, and for the first time you can remember, see bright blue sky.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

the baby ian chapters are aboslutely killing me with love. Sounds as are there no complications with mother or baby? Can't wait to see them all at home! love the blog thank you all

Flood my Mornings: Beeyin On Board

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment:  Ian (V), (All four FMM Frasers together for the first time) 

July 26th, 1951

“You know….you can drive faster, darling. I won’t mind one bit.”

Jamie flashed me a brief, dazzling grin before doing absolutely nothing about it save returning his attention to the road. 

“Not only would I not mind….” I went on, clearing my throat dramatically, “….I might insist that you go faster than—” I peered at the gauge. “Good Lord, Jamie, TEN miles per hour??” 

“Oh, but ‘tis a grand speed,” Jamie said brightly, moving through the next turn with all the haste of a particularly unambitious glacier. “Dinna fash yourself, Sassenach, I’ll do.” 

“Well, I might not,” I spluttered, shifting Ian more comfortably in my arms. “At this rate, it’ll be three hours before we get home, and by that time, I’ll have pissed all over the seat!”

“Piss to your heart’s content, my lady,” he said with a courtly flourish of the hand, and damn me, if he wasn’t completely serious. “I’d rather that kind of accident than the other.”

Despite the demands of my bladder, I laughed, and Jamie did too. “I’ll get faster wi’ time, I promise,” he offered of his own accord, looking a little sheepish even as he exerted enormous concentration upon the line of cars before us. “Only, it’s the first time driving wi’ the lad aboard wi’ us and—well—I wish to be cautious, is all.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I laid a hand gently on his leg, squeezing gently and smiling. It was nearing dusk, a treacherous time of day for motorists in any circumstances, so his caution was well-placed.  "No matter how long it takes, I’m only glad we’re going home.” 

He exhaled with a smile. “Aye, at last.”

Honestly, we had had an easy go of it, all things considered. When Bree was born, she and I had stayed in the hospital for a full two weeks. One was customary, as far as American postpartum care was concerned; the second had been deemed wise by Dr. Reynolds in light of my cesarian incision and Bree’s time in the NICU. I had been more than happy to comply, if it ensured she was safe and well. 

With Ian, though—the both of us progressing well, with no complications whatsoever—I had been positively ITCHING to get out of the bloody hospital, and Reynolds, bless him, allowed it after only four days of observed convalescence. “I’ve broken all the customary policies and procedures for the Frasers,” he said with a smile as he initialed and signed the discharge forms, “why not complete the set?”

It was true, too. From Jamie’s presence both during the birth and near-constantly afterward, to my refusal of sedation, to my insistence upon breastfeeding both at once and exclusively, we had caused quite a stir in the normally rigid parameters of the modern maternity ward. God bloody Bless Dr. Reynolds: a man ahead of his time, if ever I met one (and I had, at that). 

Jamie had split those four days between the hospital and being home with Bree. Beyond the promised respite from the stresses of the hospital, the greater part of the relief of going home was that we would all be together under the same roof; the four of us, starting to figure out the rhythms of this new life.

“How’s he managing?” Jamie asked as we turned (see: ‘crept’) onto the street leading into our neighborhood. 

“Wonderfully.” I lifted Ian up closer to my face and kissed that sweet, brown forelock. “Dreaming away.” 

“Good,” Jamie said, his voice warm with a smile as he chanced a few glances at our tiniest passenger.  “It perhaps bodes well, that he sleeps so sound and so often, aye?” 

“Let’s hope so…..What say you, Ian?” I asked of our son (had my talk-to-infants voice always been two octaves higher, I wondered?). “Does this mean you’re going to be kind and let Da and Mummy get their sleep?”

Ian grunted and slowly covered his face with both hands as if to say, Jesus H. Christ, you lot, hush and leave me to it.

“Best get used to noise, little winky,” I murmured, leaning my head against his and closing my eyes in contentment. “Your family is quite the lively bunch.” 

“YOU’RE HOMMMMMME!!!!!!!!!!”

“Home, indeed!” 

Jamie set down the bags, closed the door behind us, and caught a pajama-ed Bree up into his arms.  

“Home AND gonna STAY home, aye?” 

“Aye,” Jamie and I promised in unison as Penelope came in to hug and kiss and fawn and be embraced heartily in return. 

Bree leaned over at a ridiculous angle, trying to peer down from Jamie’s arms into mine. “Hi-Beeyin!” she squealed. 

Grinning, I scooped up Ian’s hand onto my finger and mimed a little waving motion. “Say, ‘Hi, Bree!’” 

Brianna giggled insanely, then demanded excitedly of her brother, “Come see the house? Wanna come see it??” 

“Oh, of course he does. Why don’t you show him around?” I said softly, hoping she would take the hint and lower her volume. 

“THIS ONE—” our daughter bellowed, grandly gesturing to the living room as we ambled into it, “—IS—Um—uhhhh….” She furrowed her brows, then leaned close to Jamie’s ear and whispered loudly, “What’s-this-room name’s is, Da?” 

“Sitting room,” he whispered back, lips twitching. 

“SIT-IN ROOM!” she declared triumphantly to the baby without missing a beat. “We sit on’na chairs and play and stuff! An’ Mummy draws on books at’the desk!”  

And in such a fashion, the tour progressed, with Bree giving scattered commentary on each room in the house. As for her brother…Well, Ian’s appreciation of this exclusive inside-look for his benefit amounted to the occasional doleful blink and—as Bree was extolling the virtues of the back garden— an urgent grunting that presaged a nappy-change would be needed very soon indeed. 

After we had bade goodnight to Mrs. Byrd, Ian and I retreated to the bedroom, where I laid him on his back while I got changed into my nightclothes. LORD, did it feel wonderful to be in cotton that didn’t smell of the hospital.

He was wide-awake as I changed him, making little snuffling sounds and starting to look around at his surroundings with more precise intention.  I crooned love and nonsense to him as I worked, praising his efforts and making ridiculous faces in response to his. 

From across the house, I could hear the sounds of Jamie (Bree in tow) locking down the house for the night, the ritual concluding with a familiar, weighty, “Bedtime now, a leannan.”

For once, Bree didn’t immediately respond with bargains and pleas. Rather, I heard a gasp of delight and the pattering sounds of bare feet dancing and jumping in anticipation. “Essighted for Beeyin’s can sleep in MY room!?”

A suppressed laugh, then a slight groan as Jamie bent or squatted down. “Cub, we’ve been over this many a time already, aye? Ian’s got his wee crib in Mummy and Da’s room, and that’s where he’ll sleep.”

“But—Da!—Listen, m’okay?—He likes it better, my room!”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh! He saw it an’ he liked it!” 

I snorted a laugh as I finished pinning the nappy. “Your sister is going to speak for you *quite* a lot over the years, sweetheart. I can guarantee it.” 

“Be that as it may, Bree,” came Jamie’s stern rumble from the hall, “he’s too small, aye? When he’s old enough, he’ll most certainly share your room, but he needs to stay close to your Mummy for now, so that when he wakes in the night, he can—”

Even from the next room, I could hear the sniffing and grumbling, the spluttered syllables that meant a tantrum was coming on in force. Shifting Ian up onto my shoulder, I swept into the hall to save the day. “Would you like Ian to sit with you while you have your story, pumpkin?”

And just like that, she was cheering in triumph. 

Bree picked The Poky Little Puppy as that night’s story, and Ian, bless him, stayed awake for nearly the entire recitation. He lay on his back in the middle of Bree’s bed, blinking up at the ceiling and making a whole array of precious, soft squeaking sounds, much to the delight of his sister.  She lay on her belly near his head, chin propped on her elbows, watching his every wiggle in blissful absorption. Jamie’s voice was soothing and warm as he read, his hand just as comforting in mine as we perched on the edge of the bed, watching our little ones watching one another. 

As the ever-vague moral conclusion of the story was about to sound forth, though, Ian began to cry. Well, no, it could be called ‘crying’ only for the first second; after that, the tiny little body was emitting screams loud and piercing enough to wake the dead. 

“Oh, darling….” I leaned forward and touched his cheek with a fingertip, not surprised to see him root at once, seeking a nipple. “No need to cry, my love,” I murmured. “We’ll get you sorted, Ian, don’t worry.” 

Bree had bolted to her knees at once at the sound and was staring down wide-eyed at the squalling, red thing that had been her brother a moment ago. “Wha—What’ssa matter wi’ him?” she demanded. 

“He’s just telling us that he’s hungry,” I explained, preparing to lift Ian up and take him in the other room.

Before I could manage it, though, Jamie abruptly pulled on our still-joined hands and was helping me up off the bed. 

“Jamie?” I hissed as I tried to get my feet under me, “—what in the—?” 

“Verra sweet dreams to ye, cub,” Jamie said significantly to Bree. “We’ll see ye in the morning, aye?” 

“Wh—” Her head snapped up in alarm. “Where you goin’??” 

“Ye wanted have your brother stay in your room….” We were at the doorway, Jamie’s hand poised over the lightswitch and his brows raised. “….did ye no’?” 

“Ummmmm….Well….” Bree looked absolutely, hilariously helpless as she blinked between us the baby, who was playing his vociferous role to perfection. Jamie’s arm was around my waist, and I could feel his belly shaking with laughter. 

Brianna Fraser did her very best to save face as she fixed her gaze upon Ian and said casually, “He can…maybe sleep wi’ you an’ Mum an’ Da ‘til, ummmm he’s….” Her eyes flicked up to us. “….um-til he stops bein’ hungry?”

Jamie grinned, I giggled, and we both came forward at once to shower her with a thousand kisses each. “That sounds a grand plan, a leannan.”