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livia-dovehallow · 3 years

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Hi! Thanks for answering about requests, may I suggest something ? I was thinking about a scene in Coi timeline of when Gabriel had to deal with Thomas being accused of murder, and maybe adding also Gideons reaction to that, as it was a scene I really wanted to have read in Chain of Iron but sadly wasn't there.

Congrats on your celebration and happy bday!! Would you consider doing a fic when Thomas was arrested please? Like both Gabrily and Sophideon finding out

There were two of you who requested this exact scene so I thought, well I have to do it now! Please enjoy!

CHAIN OF IRON SPOILER WARNING

Family Above All - The Lightwoods

Characters: Thomas Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Maurice Bridgestock

Time: 1903, London, England

Thomas had had better days.

Granted, being arrested and accused of several gruesome murders was not a remote candidate for one of his better days, but he’d surprisingly remained calm. Bridgestock had taken too much pleasure in arresting him for something he had no situational understanding of but for Thomas, he had a long list of people who would look out for him. Of course, when his parents find out, they would jump to his defense in a heartbeat. But Thomas had another advantage as well—Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel were currently running the Institute, and there was no way they would let Bridgestock try him for murder.

Thomas’s hopes were fulfilled when the doors of the Institute flew open and his aunt and uncle stood in the threshold with furious expressions directed at the Inquisitor. “What in Raziel’s name is going on here?” Uncle Gabriel demanded. His voice was thunderous and echoed in the entryway.

“Thomas Lightwood was found with the body of Lilian Highsmith, covered in her blood,” said Bridgestock, much too happily for speaking about a death of one of the most esteemed members of the Enclave. “We’ve caught the murderer and justice will be swiftly served for the families of the deceased.”

“Bollocks!” shouted Aunt Cecily, her voice just as thunderous and threatening as Uncle Gabriel’s had been. Thomas wondered if the Inquisitor knew that Aunt Cecily was not someone you wanted to displease. “Maurice, you cannot possibly believe that Thomas here is capable of something so horrendous.”

The Inquisitor did not flinch. So, he did not know not to anger Cecily Lightwood. “Your familial connection creates a conflict of interest in this case, Mrs. Lightwood,” Bridgestock said, annoyed. “It is best to let myself and the other members of the Council decide Thomas’s fate.”

Gabriel looked as if one of Christopher’s flammable experiments were about to erupt out of his ears. “It will be a cold day in Hell before I leave my nephew in the hands of someone without his best interest in mind,” he said sternly. “Until you come to us with cold, hard evidence of his guilt, Thomas’s name will not be announced to the Clave and he will remain here, in the Institute, is that understood?”

The Inquisitor looked furious, but Thomas had to admit that Uncle Gabriel had a point. There was no evidence other than being found. There was no weapon, no defensive wounds. “All right,” answered Bridgestock unhappily. “He will remain anonymous to those outside of the investigation. But, he will be under guard in the Institute Sanctuary until he can be tried under the Mortal Sword. Fair?”

Aunt Cecily took a step forward looking ready to swing her fist but Uncle Gabriel held her back, though he looked equally unhappy. “It is fair,” Thomas said suddenly. His aunt and uncle looked at him, their expressions easing to concern. “I will face the Mortal Sword. I am innocent and the Sword will prove my innocence. There are worse places to wait than the Sanctuary.”

“Splendid,” Bridgestock announced. He motioned the guards holding him to move toward the Sanctuary and Thomas followed, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait long.

The moment Thomas disappeared behind the hall to the Sanctuary, Gabriel and Cecily went into action. “I’ll call for my brother,” Cecily rushed, her face pinched in worry for their nephew. “Have him bring the Sword from Paris and be the one to question Thomas.”

Gabriel nodded, holding on to her hands tight. She could see the worry and fear filling her husband’s body. “I’ll call my brother, as well,” he said, his voice wavering in his attempt to remain calm. “They’ve been through too much. Damn Maurice for putting them through more heartache but there is no reason on earth Gideon and Sophie should not be here.”

Cecily released on of her hands from his grip and held it against his jaw. He relaxed in her touch, as he always did, and kissed her palm softly. “We’ll protect him,” she said confidently. He nodded without a word. “We are the co-heads of the Institute,” she added, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “We will protect Thomas.”

Gabriel smiled, ever so slightly, and squeezed her hand. “Marrying you was the best decision I ever made,” he thought aloud. Cecily smiled happily.

“Of course it was.”

The room closed in on Sophie Lightwood.

The words no mother should ever have to hear she had heard too many times. These were her children—her babies. She carried each one of them for nine months and brought them into the world surrounded in so much love. And yet—

Barbara is gone. Thomas has been arrested. Eugenia is ruined.

“Sophie.” Gideon’s voice was urgent in her ear, pulling her back into the present. His arms were around her tight. “Sophie, we must go. He needs us.”

Sophie nodded. Her son needs her. She must go to him. “Where is Genia?” she asked, her throat hoarse.

“I’m here, Mum,” came her daughter’s voice. Eugenia emerged from her bedroom with a fierce expression. “No one is getting to Tom if I have any say about it.”

Despite everything, Sophie smiled in relief at her daughter. Eugenia was strong and it eased much of Sophie’s worries (not all, of course. Once a mother always a mother). And her girls had always been protective of their younger brother, who was not so little anymore. She nodded at Eugenia and glanced up at Gideon. “Let’s go. We must see Tom.”

Thomas hissed at the sting from cut on his hands from the rough way the guards has fastened him to his seat. “Aunt Cecily, that hurts.”

She clicked her tongue at him and continued to dab away at the blood around his wrists. She insisted on checking for any dirt or infection in his wound—Bridgestock had prohibited any iratzes for him as his injuries were considered evidence. “I’ll hang that man for having you tied to a chair,” Aunt Cecily grumbled. Thomas fought an ill-timed smile but he was comforted with the knowledge that the adults in his life were looking out for him. And the knowledge that Aunt Cecily was fully capable of following through on her threats.

He had heard his father arguing with several members of the Council upstairs, but it was his mother’s and sister’s heels clicking against the stone floors that created the loudest sound in his ears. The door opened and they flooded in. Eugenia looked angry and carried her knife in her hand, which she had likely used to threaten the guard to let her in. His mother, on the other hand, looked as if she were about to cry. “Thomas,” she whispered desperately and rushed to him. Her hands were soft against his face. There were bags under her eyes that had been there ever since they lost Barbara and Thomas knew they would likely never go away. It pained him to see her like that—tired and heartbroken. “They haven’t hurt you, have they? Are you all right?”

“I’m okay, Mum,” he assured her in as comforting of a voice as he could muster. “Aunt Cecily is a very good caretaker.”

“With a wicked good right hook,” Eugenia mused. He could almost feel the smug grin their aunt gave her at that comment.

“I’m happy to see you Genie,” Thomas said to his sister suddenly. Eugenia seemed surprised, but pleased. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved to see you come at me with a knife.”

Sophie sighed in defeat and kneeled in front of him, still checking him over despite his insistence that he was not hurt. “We know it wasn’t you,” she told him. “Of course, it wasn’t you. You would never do such a thing. Your father has gone ballistic upstairs with your uncle over this and I have half a mind to march up there and join them.”

Thomas smiled. “I’m sure if you and Aunt Cecily paraded up there looking as angry as you do now, the Council will be frightened to tears.”

“As well they should be.” Aunt Cecily stood and wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress. She was still scowling, but her eyes showed her affection for him. She’d always looked out for his cousins with such fervor that it felt strange experiencing it for himself, but he was not surprised. His own mother had always told him that if he ever needed anything and he couldn’t reach her, that Aunt Cecily would help him as if he were her own child.

“Thank you, Aunt Cecily,” Thomas said to her. She smiled kindly at him. He turned back to his mother, who gazed at him with heartbreaking concern. “I’m all right, Mum. Truly.”

Sophie sniffed and tried her best to smile for him. Thomas wished she wouldn’t do that. “Hush,” she scolded him without malice. “Let your mother fuss over you. It is the one thing I can still do for my children that has no age limit.”

“You do plenty for us, Mum,” Eugenia offered in one of her softer tones. Her knife was still in her hand. “Tom is just like you. He’s looking out for everyone other than himself when he should be focusing on himself. Lucky for him, I am like Papa.”

Thomas scoffed, though it came out sounding more like a laugh, and their mother finally smiled ever so slightly. “Your uncle has convinced the Inquisitor to lockdown the Institute until Charlotte and Will return with the Mortal Sword. No curious onlookers will be poking around here. We’ll make sure of it.”

Aunt Cecily clapped her hands, looking pleased. “That man,” she said, delighted. “Reminds me why I married him every day. Come—let us go add fuel to the fire.” She gripped Sophie’s upper arm and lifted her from the floor at Thomas’s feet. She turned to Eugenia. “I trust you to guard the door?”

Eugenia smiled devilishly. “No one will get past me.”

Aunt Cecily winked—she had helped with much of Genia’s training—and tugged at Sophie’s arm. “Thomas will be all right. I promise. Aunt’s Honor.”

His mother rolled her eyes, but she went along with Aunt Cecily after hugging Thomas tight. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

“I know,” he had answered. “I love you, too, Mum.”

“This is idiotic,” Gideon demanded. He stood in the foyer of the Institute, behind locked doors that he would never be able to thank his brother enough for, staring down the Inquisitor with little hesitation. “You have known Thomas since he was an infant, Maurice. He has never done anything remotely like this in his life. You can’t possibly believe he’s killed all these people!”

Bridgestock was unbothered by Gideon’s outbursts. If anything, he looked simply annoyed that he had heard the same argument from various members of the Lightwood family. “Sentimentality and nepotism have no place in a murder investigation, Gideon,” he said roughly. Gideon thought he was less than a second away from knocking the daylights out of him. “I don’t care if he’s your son or not. He will be investigated.”

Clicks of heels sounded toward them; they were fast, determined. Gideon didn’t need to turn to know it was Sophie and Cecily, but he turned anyway to find her face red with anger. In no less than a moment was she at his side, her hand rising from her waist.

A loud, echoing slap filled the tense air. There was a moment of silence, in which the occupants of the foyer stood gaping, before Bridgestock’s face morphed into anger, his cheek turning a livid red. Nearly as quickly as his hand had come up to return the hit were Gideon and Gabriel’s hands on his wrist with an iron grip. “How dare you shackle my son to a chair and leave him bleeding,” Sophie seethed. She had not flinched. Sophie was hardly livid, but when she was, she was glorious and frightening. Gideon tightened his grip on Bridgestock’s wrist, forcing himself to hold back from snapping the bones into pieces for raising a hand to his wife.

“You arrest my son with no evidence, dare raise a hand to my wife, and now I learn you have shackled him without iratzes?” Gideon roared. He stepped closer to Bridgestock, his wrist still in his grip—Gabriel had let go long ago, though his gaze was thunderous—and hissed through his teeth: “Some man of the law you are.”

“Careful who you threaten,” warned the Inquisitor. He was annoyingly calm, testing even, with a pleased and self-satisfied glint in his eyes. “You may be at the Consul’s side, but it is I who dictate the Law, Lightwood.”

“And how long will that last—” interrupted Cecily. She stood at Gabriel’s side with her chin held high—“when Thomas states under the Mortal Sword that he is innocent? What explanation will you create to guard yourself from ridicule among the Council for being so certain of a case without evidence, dissolved with a single question under the Sword?”

The Inquisitor’s angry glare turned to Cecily, who stared him down right back. Gideon suppressed a smirk.

“Think twice before you say or do anything to my wife,” Gabriel warned.

Bridgestock angrily twisted his arm out from Gideon’s grip and took a step back. His eyes were still full of annoyance and anger. “It would do you both some good to control your women. Loose tongues lead to bad incidents.”

“Is that a promise?” Cecily wondered.

“It would do you some good to learn temperance and manners,” Gideon snapped. “Get out before I do something actually worth an arrest. Do not show your face to me again until Will returns with the Mortal Sword.”

Hope you enjoyed :’) || @tsccreatorsnet

#maggie answers #kind anons #request #chain of iron spoiler #coi spoilers #thomas lightwood #gideon lightwood #sophie lightwood #sophie collins #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #cecily lightwood #eugenia lightwood #the last hours #tsc #tlh #chain of iron

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logan-is-noggin · 3 years

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Anxious beauty- Part 1

word count: 1512

Roman opened the microwave door and pulled out the bag of popcorn and poured the buttery contents into a large bowl. Along with a bag of chips he grabbed the two bowls and walked into the kitchen to see Patton hunched in front of the TV.

" padre, why isn't the DVD in yet?" Patton turned around " it is, but the DVD player doesn't seem to want to turn on, it's also not letting me take it out, it's stuck. Sorry Roman."

In dramatic princely fashion Roman fell to his knees, Patton caught the snacks out of his hands.

" how will we have movie night now?"

" I can grab my laptop and my copy of the movie." Roman shrugged " it just won't be the same, we can't appreciate the epic battle scenes from the tininess of a laptop."

Patton then snapped his fingers " what if I tell the story, like one of those old fashion storytellers"

"I still don't know..." Roman said unsure.

" you can be Prince Phillip." Patton bargained.

No sooner than said Roman was on the couch, a handful of popcorn in his mouth. " start from the beginning."

" no better place to start" Patton laughed.

there once were two kings from opposite kingdoms across the water. the two monarchs, king Thomas and king Emile were the best of allies and friends. they dreamed of the day that they could unite their kingdoms as one.

happily, a prince and heir was born to Thomas. soon a celebration and holiday was named in honor of young prince Virgil. many royals and nobles traveled to pay homage. many bringing gifts for the new royal. among the attendees, king Emile and the five year old prince roman.

Thomas stood before his throne and commanded the rooms attention. " honored guests. on this day of my sons dedication, let it be known that my son and young prince roman are here-forth betrothed. when they come of age they shall wed and unite my and king Emile's kingdoms."

the audience celebrated at the news. a fanfare sounded throughout the room and from the light shining down through the stain glass window sparkles twinkled and soon formed into three creatures cloaked in green, blue and yellow. when they touched down they bowed to the kings. the yellow fairy spoke for the group. "we each have come to bestow upon the prince with a gift that will help aid him through his life."

Janus, the yellow fairy approached the gray bassinet where the prince slept. he pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it. golden sparks flew from the tip. " young prince. my gift to you is great wisdom and wit. when you ascend to the throne may you rule with the knowledge as your father did before you" the prince blinked and yawned as he awoke as Remus, the green fairy peered over. "Little royal, my gift is the gift of great boldness and cunning in battle! may you lead your armies into many victories and success follow all your days."

the blue fairy stepped forward and reached a hand in and tickled the babies tummy, making him giggle. " sweet prince, my gift is.."

but Patton was stopped by the explosion of the double doors slamming open and a large gale sweeping through extinguishing all the candles on the chandeliers. when the smoke cleared enough they saw the dark fairy Logan.

" why am I the villain in the story Patton?" Roman bit back a scream , throwing the mostly empty popcorn bowl into the air. "Do not creep up on me like that!" Roman demanded

" I've been standing here listing for the last five minutes. And I ask again, why did you make me the villain?"

C'mon Logan, maleficent is the most powerful being in the story, and I'm sure you wouldn't rather be one of the fairies taking care of the baby in the movie."

He nodded to himself " that is a fair point. Carry on Patton." He said taking a seat next to Roman on the couch.

Logan held onto a staff with a swirling blue orb on the top of it. Thomas stepped forward. " w-what brings you here Logan?" The fairy slowly strolled around the room. " I had just been in the area and heard all the celebration. Upon closer inspection I see that those three were invited to give the Prince a gift. To be honest your highness, I was hurt that I too hadn't been invited."

"You weren't wanted" Remus called out. Janus clapped his hand over the green ones mouth.

Thomas quivered " an over sight I can assure you Logan. If I had known you wanted to come of course I would have invited you. It's just in the past I know you aren't the type for large crowds of people."

" I accept your apology. And to prove it, I too shall give a gift to your son." Logan stretched his arms out and slammed his staff down with a loud crash.

" listen well. the gifts given to the benevolent prince thus far are all well and good. but hear me. Virgil shall spend all his days haunted by a lingering fear wherever he shall go. he will never truly be able to rule with a mighty hand. and he will only escape this fear by the kiss of death!"

Thomas had scooped his son into his arms as he shouted for the sorcerer to be arrested for threatening his sons life. but Logan waved his staff and more smoke and lightning emitted from the end as he used his magic to make his escape.

hours later, all the guests had left a Thomas's request. leaving the fairies alone with the monarch. Thomas, still holding his son in his arms, paced back and forth.

" isn't there something your powers can do to annul this curse?"

"I'm afraid not sire." Janus spoke. " he's much stronger than us because he has trained for much longer and he possesses dark magic. he's not afraid to break the rules or even write his own."

Remus smoothed his mustache on his lip " but, there could be a way to help."

"how?" Thomas asked. the others looked over as if asking the same.

" little blue here never got a chance to bestow his gift to the little sprite. maybe there's something you can do."

"I cant undo Logan's spell," he said sadly. " not undo it, but perhaps find a way to make it bearable. find a loophole."

Patton sighed a deep breath and approached the king, he held his arms out, a request. Thomas transferred Virgil into his arms. with his wand, he showered the baby with light harmless sparkles that he reached out and tried to grab.

" little prince" Patton cooed. " while the wicked Logan had decreed one fate for you, i decree another path. yes while fear may follow you, it will be so you air on the side of caution in all you do. you will be happy and comfortable where you feel safe, with those you are familiar with. and instead of death freeing you from fear. you will fall into a deep sleep where the only thing to wake you shall be true love's kiss."

////

the following days the fairies tarried at the palace, Patton was often found with the baby in his arms, rocking and entertaining the prince to keep him happy. even with pattons addendum to the curse, the king still feared for his young son. one time after handing Virgil to the wet nurse, Patton rushed off in search of his compatriots. he found them leaning against one of the balconies overlooking a courtyard. they noticed their friend behind them, out of breath from running, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

" slow down blue, what's the rush? are the king and prince okay?" Patton nodded furiously as he calmed his breathing. " it's nothing like that. I just had an idea about how to keep the prince safer!" he shared excitedly. Remus smiled as he shoved Patton playfully " don't keep us in suspense baby blue? spill."

once they were safely tucked away in a corner, Patton told them his plan. at first, Janus was hesitant. " really Patton? stealing a baby? especially the prince! I'm pretty sure that's treason."

" no, obviously we have to get his highness's approval first. and it's not forever obviously. just until after his sixteenth birthday so the curse is void. once his plans are foiled he- won't be able to intrude on Virgil's life and he can live it the way he was meant to."

" but blue, we don't know anything about raising a baby," Remus commented. Patton assured them " that's what I'm here for. I can teach you both easily. so, will you help me?"

Janus and Remus exchanged glances then back at Patton more sure. " we're in."

PART 2:

#thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sander sides #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #fairytale #prinxiety

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minervacasterly · 4 years

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First Protestant King of England, Henry VIII or Edward VI? (And why Edward VI's reign was no less important than his father's)

It is important to dispell myths about the most popular English dynasty, so I decided to briefly take on this topic. A common misconception until recent decades is that Henry VIII was the first Protestant King. In reality, it was his son who was the first true Protestant King of England. I’ve written about this before on my blog, building upon the research by great scholars like Chris Skidmore, Loach, and the short introduction to his reign by Kyra Cornelius Kramer. Besides taking after his father in intellect, Edward VI was fairly concerned with the state of the church of England but unlike his old man, he thought that the time had come to make it into the first true Protestant church of England, agreeing to the issuing of the book of common prayer and a revision of it two years later. Edward VI also frowned upon improper clothing. He loved to dance and watch sports, but didn’t think t0 was a good idea to indulge in these frivolities since the Evangelicals believed that this was a gateway to moral decay. (Don’t you just love those who interpret the will of god so good, that they conveniently forget about the passages where their savior rails against the rich and so on?) Edward’s actions had consequences and these, like the contributions of his reign, are often brushed aside in favor of his more famous father and sisters. One of them, was a rebellion in the North and his half-sister’s resistance to his new laws that forbade people to hear the Mass and forced the new English service on everyone. Long story short … lots of people hung, punished and lots of enemies that his councilors (who as always since people couldn’t point fingers at the king unless they had a sick death wish of some sort) were blamed and were punished for during his half-sister’s reign. Some of you might be pointing out that since Henry VIII was excommunicated and labeled a heretic by most of Christendom, that technically he was a Protestant king but no, seriously, he wasn’t. Henry was, despite these labels, still a practicing Catholic. He agreed to Gardiner’s articles of faith that criticized the church and validated his claim as supreme head of the Anglican Church, and God’s representative on Earth, and surrounded himself by obvious Reformists, but other than that, he forcefully kept everyone in line. Catholics who practiced the Mass or adhered to his new rules while still being loyal to their beliefs were tolerated, but if they pulled a ‘Thomas More’ where they denied the king’s supremacy or insulted one of his beloved wives (before he got tired of them, that is) then yes, off to the block with them!

As for Protestants … Ever heard of Anne Askew? She defended Henry’s actions, she thought he was some kind of Moses as his last wife -Kathryn Parr whom she was closely associated with- would paint him as in her two books (primarily in ‘Lamentations of a Sinner’) and then she defied her husband and Henry’s establishment, pushing for a more Evangelist agenda, and what happened? Oh nothing big … she just got tortured and then burned. As long as you played Henry’s sycophant you were fine. There is also a spiritual aspect that ties into his megalomania. As Henry became more obsessed with securing his dynasty, his focus on spiritual matters also grew. By the end of his reign, nobody could predict what the king would say or how he would act so everyone walked a fine line when they discussed important subjects. Kathryn Parr is one of them who learned this lesson early on during their marriage. If it weren’t for gentleness, and the friendship she established among prominent ladies in her household, her accusers would’ve succeeded in convincing Henry VIII that she was a heretic. She would’ve had a sham trial like Anne Boleyn and then beheaded or worse, burned like Anne Aske. Luckily for Kathryn Parr, she was one step ahead of them. Humbling herself before her lord and husband, she told him that she never intended to change his religious views but just challenged him as people did at the beginning of his reign, so he could stir her towards the right path since she was a woman and these things were too complicated for her to fathom, let alone choose on her own. She lived and continued to be a major influence on future Protestant leaders, such as Jane Grey, Elizabeth I and of course, Edward VI.

Edward VI was greatly influenced by his beloved stepmother’s religiosity and mourned her deeply. He referred to her as his mother. Kathryn encouraged his passion for books and aided his Protestant tutors in stirring him towards their faith, ensuring that he’d become the king they’d all be waiting for, that would transform England into a fully Protestant nation.

It was Edward who began to force religious codes on his people in a way that hadn’t been done before. His father cracked on religious houses on the basis of cleansing them from corruption and because of their disloyalty, and open defiance against his supremacy; but Edward made things worse. The monasteries that were sold to his father’s noblemen left many people begging on the streets while forcing others to adapt to their new environment. When people could no longer handle it, they rose up in open rebellion and like in his father’s time, these were brutally squashed. But here is where it gets interesting … Whereas Henry VIII is blamed for all the evils of his reign, Edward VI is not and the reason for this? He was a kid, don’t be so mean. Leave the poor tot alone. Fact: Edward VI died at the age of fifteen and by renaissance standards, he was not a little boy anymore. Even if he hadn’t come of age, he was not an innocent boy anymore who was oblivious to the world around him. In fact. When Edward VI found out that his uncle had been executed, he was like ‘meh … okay’. And sure, Thomas Seymour was a brash individual who thought he could get away with everything but even after he tried to kidnap his nephew, to act in such a manner and for an uncle who was married to your favorite stepmother and someone you claimed to be your favorite relative, that’s pretty cold. But it gets better. After Edward VI finally got rid of his tedious uncle and his irritating set of rules, Edward wrote in his diary (showing no emotion at all) that the former lord Protector died and that was that. Getting rid of Edward Seymour probably made the little critter sigh in relief because out of all his uncles, the Lord Protector was the one who always reminded him of his duties and responsibilities, not to mention all those rules and not letting him be king! How unfair! And then there was also that issue about the rebellions. Edward VI saw these people as traitors and agreed with Northumberland that they should be dealt with immediately but his uncle didn’t think that was wise, which was why people called him the ‘good Duke’ because they saw him as a friend of the people. Now that he was out of the way, his kingdom would not have to suffer any more dissenting voices, nor any threats of isolation or future skirmishes with Scotland. Edward VI was fully committed to the Protestant cause but convinced by Northumberland, he realized that he would not go far if he did not have any allies. And the whole campaign in Scotland had gone awfully wrong and with Mary, Queen of Scots in France, the only way to neutralize that threat was making an alliance with that country, betrothing him to Henri II and Catherine de Medici’s daughter, Elizabeth Valois. Sadly, Edward VI did not live to marry her or do more for the Evangelicals. He died and before he did, he wrote a paper called “my device for the succession” which became the basis to disinherit his sisters in favor of their cousin, Jane Grey. That opened a can of worms that could have easily escalated into another civil war like the wars of the roses but thankfully for everyone involved it didn’t and his sister won her crown fair and square. But as with every Tudor, once her sister became Queen, she began to make good use of the propaganda machine to portray her sibling as a puppet of Northumberland and other evil lords who had corrupted him and turned him against her. Why was this done? Same reason why people who rebelled against their kings often pointed their fingers at their councilors -because doing so against an anointed king meant that they were upsetting the natural order. It was only in extreme cases, when someone had enough support and belonged to a different dynasty, that they would point it directly at them. Edward belonged to the same dynasty as Mary, and a dynasty divided was bad business for everyone, especially for the first Queen Regnant of England who had inherited a divided country.

Mary I also did something else and that was appropriating some of Edward VI’s religious achievements in an effort to make Catholicism appealing to those who were still unsure whether or not they wanted to return to the church or side with the various groups within the Protestant movement. Sections from the book of the common prayer were added to a new set of prayers in Latin and English, and adapted in a way that didn’t contradict church doctrine. During his reign, Edward encouraged many poets and artists to express themselves. These would reenact passages from the bible, or create allegorical paintings that depicted Edward as England’s messiah, and all those who followed him as true Christians as opposed to the decadent Catholics who were portrayed as heathens.

Edward’s religious reformation became the basis for Elizabeth I’s reign who continued with many of these reforms. Although she did not go as far as Edward or his chosen heiress, Jane Grey, would have liked. Elizabeth I was far more pragmatic, recognizing that if she wanted to rule over a divided country she had to maintain some of the older traditions or else, she’d risk losing everything she had. Unlike her siblings, Elizabeth I wasn’t thought of as legitimate by many of her Christian peers. Ideological purity was a luxury that she couldn’t afford and in any case, she did not want because many Evangelicals didn’t like the idea of the supremacy of kings (or queens). Nevertheless, Elizabeth I built her religious establishment upon her brother’s by issuing a new revision of the book of common prayer and encouraging artists and poets to create works that extolled the Anglican Church and the Tudor Dynasty.

#Edward VI #Henry VIII #English History #English Reformation #dailytudors

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elareine · 4 years

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Deaged Jaybird anyone?

Well, judging from ao3 and tumblr, I think the answer to that question is ‘everyone and amazingly so,’ but I might as well throw my hat into the ring, thank you <3

I thought this was gonna be sweet and funny. It didn’t exactly turn out that way.

rewind, fast forward, stop Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply - Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Temporary Character Death, Angst Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Jason Todd, Family Issues, Family Feels, Loss of Trust, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt with Temporary Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, The Batfamily Needs Therapy, Bittersweet, Unreliable Narrator

“If he says the words unstable molecules one more time, I’m going to hit something,” Dick muttered.

“Jason’s been gone for two hours, and you’re already trying to replace him?” Tim asked. It was a weak joke, and Dick didn’t laugh.

Nygma and Crane were still arguing at metaphorical gunpoint (i.e., genuine sword end), bent over the makeshift crib.

“I didn’t expect this to happen, either! What’s the point of posing riddles if he’s a baby?”

“Well you still fucked up and now we’re here, basically hostages—”

Bruce held up a hand. Everyone fell silent.

“So. His age will change several times?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot predict the intervals.”

“No.”

“What does he remember?”

“I don’t know. We should ask him…”

“…when he reaches an age where he can speak, yes. Will this stop once he reaches the age he’s supposed to be?”

“I don’t—”

“Then we will find out. Nygma, you have 24 hours to fix this.” He turned and looked at Dick. “Call reinforcements and start the lab work.”

Dick nodded, but whatever he was going to ask wasn’t going to be heard because Jason chose that moment to start wailing.

Everyone froze. Despite all the arguing, the fact that they know had to care for a baby hadn’t seemed real until that moment.

Bruce, though, just lifted Jason up and to his chest with the same natural competence with which he handled explosives and batarangs. “There, there, Jaylad. You’re hungry, hmm? I bet Alfred has already prepared a bottle. Let’s go find him, shall we?”

——

Dick volunteered to stay home and watch the baby that evening. Except when he returned to the crib with a freshly prepared bottle, it was a toddler staring back at him.

“Hey there, little man,” Dick greeted him.

Silence.

Dick tried again. “Jason, are you in there?”

The kid stared back at him, clearly wondering what the strange man was talking about. His eyes were so blue. “Me.”

“Yes, you’re Jason,” Dick agreed. “Do you remember me?”

Jason’s brow furrowed as if he was concentrating really hard. “No?”

“That’s okay. I’m Dick. I’m—” your brother. But how did you explain that to a toddler who didn’t remember any siblings? “A friend.”

After a minute of stern evaluation, Jason’s expression melted into a smile, and he held up his short chubby arms. “Up?”

“Of course.” Dick bent down and scooped Jason up with one swift motion, bouncing him up and down for a few seconds, to Jason’s great delight and giggles. Then he settled him onto his hip. “How about some food, buddy?”

“Hungry!” Jason declared. It sounded like ‘angry.’ Dick wanted to record that and use it as Jason’s ringtone forever.

He couldn’t very well give him the baby formula now, so: “Let’s go to the kitchen, then, huh? I like midnight snacks, too.”

“Snack,” Jason repeated. He seemed to like that word. “Snack, snack, snack!”

“Yes, snack. Hey B,” he called softly through the non-emergency line as they walked through the corridor, “listen to who woke up.”

“Baba?” Jason asked. Dick had no idea whether he meant Bruce or was asking for his own father. Either way, it was devastating.

“Jaylad,” Bruce murmured back. Dick didn’t call him out on the use of real names. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“No.”

Dick tried not to laugh at the sleepy pout. “To be fair, I don’t know how ‘slept like a baby for hours,’ literally, affects his sleep schedule.”

“How old is he?”

“About… two? Maybe?” Dick was not an expert in estimating the age of children, so sue him. “Maybe younger. He’s real small, and he doesn’t remember me.”

Silence. “N, we’re coming home.”

The bats had barely been out for an hour. “Sure. See you soon.”

——

It was Tim who discovered the next transformation. He’d taken over the early morning shift by virtue of not sleeping anyway. Jason’s room had been quiet; Tim had just wanted to make sure he was doing okay when he was greeted with a much larger shape in the bed than he’d expected.

Which, fuck, that couldn’t be good, right? Last time Jason had only skipped a couple of years, but now he was at least six.

The figure was also too still to be asleep. Tim switched on the nightlight they’d installed by the door and looked at Jason. Yeah, his eyes were definitely open. It was eerie, the way he held himself still as if he was trying to disappear into the darkness. Don’t notice me, his position screamed. I’m not here, go away.

It was so familiar. Tim couldn’t breathe for a second for the way it was a perfect reversal of the way he himself had spent his childhood. Notice me, look at me, don’t leave.

“Hey,” Tim called out softly, unconsciously imitating Dick’s voice. “Can’t sleep?”

“Who are you.” His voice was clear and hard, a far cry from the sweet toddler who had played with Tim’s cape when they’d come home from patrol at midnight.

That had been four hours ago. It was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?

“I’m Tim,” he said. “You don’t remember me right now because you’re… sick, but we know each other.”

The distrust did not wane. “Where am I?”

“At my father’s house. Wayne Manor.” Tim smiled. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Who else is here?”

“Your family.”

That did not have the expected effect, at all. Jason shrank back, hands gripping the blanket tight even as his expression remained blank.

Tim’s hand moved to his bracelet and pressed a button. He’d promised Bruce to wake him up if there was a development. Besides, he was in over his head here, and he knew it.

“I’m going to call them, okay?” There was no answer.

It took less than two minutes for the doorway to be filled with people. Bruce was first, of course, closely followed by Dick, with Damian, Duke, and Cass lingering just behind them in the hallway.

“You’re going to crowd him,” Tim pointed out. “We’re all strangers.”

“Tim is right.” Bruce stepped forward. “Stay back.”

They watched as he crouched down in front of the bed. “Hi, Jason. You don’t remember me, and I know that’s scary.”

“I’m not scared.”

Tim couldn’t see his face, but he would bet good money that Bruce smiled at that. “No, you aren’t because you��re brave, aren’t you.”

“Hmm. Where’s mom?” Jason asked.

“She’s not here. I’m sorry. You’re staying with our family and me for now.”

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s not here, either, but—”

Jason’s shoulders deflated.

Oh. Oh.

Tim could feel the tension rack up in the room as every single family member was simultaneously filled with rage.

Bruce, however, looked calm. “As long as we are here,” he said, quietly but with the kind of conviction that could move mountains, “no one is going to hurt you. Your mother is fine, and so are you.”

And Jason looked up and believed him. Tim could see it in the way he relaxed, how he slumped down against Bruce’s bulk as if it was the only thing holding him up. He didn’t say anything.

Tim felt a gentle tug on his elbow. He followed the others outside, quietly, leaving Bruce to keep vigil. It was touching, but something about the scene bothered Tim.

“Do you think,” he quietly asked Dick as the group dispersed, “that we should call someone else? His friends? You have Roy’s number.”

“It will help, being here, when he reaches Robin age. They’re strangers until he’s an adult.”

That wasn’t the point. Tim frowned. “I know you think he should be with family when he’s like this. But Dick—we haven’t been his family for a long time. We shouldn’t see this stuff.”

Dick swallowed, but he didn’t argue with that. “B already knows.”

“Not all of it. Not what will happen when—”

“Yeah.” Dick’s shoulders slumped. “But do you think you can convince B of that?”

“No.” Tim sighed. “No, I don’t.”

——

“Master Jason, what are you doing in the kitchen?”

It was eight a.m., and even Master Tim was asleep by now. Alfred had kept an ear out for the sound of a preschooler waking up, but Master Jason must’ve aged again. He looked to be about nine now.

The kid frowned. “I don’t know who you are, but I need to make breakfast, or mom won’t eat.”

Alfred took a moment to fix his apron, blinking discreetly. “Of course, Master Jason. Your mother, however, isn’t here at the moment. Would you like to help me prepare some pancakes?”

——

There was a sound like something heavy falling, then a curse. “Where the fuck am I?”

Dick and Tim exchanged a glance. They’d installed Jason in front of the tv, at first, but he’d been more interested in the few children’s books Bruce kept around for guests.

Tim had tagged along—at this point, he had somehow wound up one of Jason’s primary caretakers, and wasn’t that a sentence he hadn’t expected himself to ever think? Looked like the time for children’s books had run out.

When they walked over to the armchair Jason had buried himself in, they found a pile of limbs in front of it, scrambling to get up and look at them. The family had taken to dressing Jason in the largest clothes they could get him in without them falling off, just to spare his modesty at the next change. Not that Jason had really grown much over the last few episodes…

At least he was dressed as he woke up in an unfamiliar living room because he couldn’t remember the previous episode or his adult life, Tim thought. Honestly, this curse/science mishap/whatever seemed hellbent on making their lives as miserable as possible.

Dick advanced cautiously. “Jason—”

“And you would be?” the boy asked, his voice suddenly much lighter.

“My name’s Dick Grayson, and you’re safe here.”

“Hmm, am I?” There was something wrong with the way Jason looked at Dick. His weight was shifted to the side, pushing his hip to the front, his long lashes almost fluttering, and there was something challenging in his gaze as if he was daring Dick—as if he was—

The idea was so incongruous—so impossible—that it took Tim too long to connect the dots. It was the exact pose he saw the working girls and boys adopt, night after night when they approached a car.

The thing with Tim was: He could be thrown off a building, and his brain would still keep on working all the way down. (No, seriously, that happened several times.) It was just how it was. So he could be shocked at what was happening, at what he’d just learned about Jason, and still notice that Dick wasn’t.

Perhaps he was making a mountain of a molehill, then. Perhaps Jason had just seen too much on the streets and was trying to play along, to give Dick what Jason thought he wanted, and then he’d punch him when he got too close and get out of here.

Perhaps.

“Let’s just—wait it out, okay?” Dick sighed. “You got temporary amnesia. It’ll all be clear tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Jason looked like he didn’t believe him, but was willing to run with it. “You got some food?”

——

“Oh, hey Dick! You look different!”

Dick thought he was about to cry with relief. Finally, a Jason that knew them, that wouldn’t have to be reassured about their intentions every few hours. “Hey, Jason.”

“Is it for a case?”

“Something like that,” he said. “You’re in the future, sort of. We have to wait a few hours before you can go back.”

Jason’s eyes went wide. “Really? That’s so cool! Can I talk to myself? Where am I? What year is it? What am I doing?”

“We can’t tell you that,” Tim said suddenly. “You know. Time travel code. Gotta follow the rules.”

“Ah.” Jason nodded as if that made any sense. “But you can tell me about other things, right? What about the cave? Can I see how it changed?”

“No, not the cave—” not while that damn memorial was still there, “—but Alfred has a collection of photos in one room if you want to see.”

That would be fine. Jason wasn’t in any of those, anyway.

“Whoa,” Jason commented when he saw how many pictures there were. “This family sure has grown. Wait, who is that?”

“That’s me,” Tim said.

Jason frowned. “That’s a Robin outfit. Are you Robin after me?”

And Dick—he could see how Tim tensed up. Understandably so, they had all heard what Jason called him. “Yeah, I—I didn’t mean to repl—you were—”

“It’s okay,” Jason shrugged. “Robin is more than one person, right? Dickie here said that. You don’t stop being Robin. You just share it.”

Tim blinked once. Then again.

Dick watched in some concern, because—surely that’s what he said to him back when he gave Robin to Damian, too? Right? It was all such a blur, but he must have.

Jason was already moving on to the next picture. “Wow, are these your wings?!”

“Yeah.”

“Did you make them? That’s so cool, I wanna fly too!”

Dick watched in amusement as a blush spread across Tim’s face. “I could show you the plans?”

“That would be fun! It could be a project.” Then he whirled around. “Do you go to school?”

“Uh, not really.”

Jason frowned. “You should. Grades are important. You can’t go superheroing forever if you don’t have money.”

“That’s true.” Tim looked suitably chastised. Dick bit down on a laugh as he watched Jason walk along Alfred’s little gallery, commenting on everything he saw and pulling Tim along.

God, thinking about the kid they saw yesterday, this Jason was a miracle. Dick knew what it meant to pull yourself up after darkness crashed down on you, how to find a way to smile after you lost everything.

And he knew, too, what a single person who cared for you—who believed in you could do.

(Maybe Dick should’ve remembered that when Jason became a miracle for the second time.)

Bruce had been that for both of them. Even now, Dick could see him at the doorway, watching Jason with such pride and unbearable longing on his face. Then a shadow fell over his expression, and he turned away.

“Dick!” Jason called over. “Tim has never heard the train story! C’mon, you’re the best at telling it.”

“He hasn’t heard it because it’s embarrassing,” Dick whined, but he walked over and joined them. Might as well make the most of this, right?”

——

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Zatanna said. “There’s nothing I can do.”

She was magic, Cass knew, and Bruce didn’t like magic. So if he was asking her for help… Duke, next to her, looked worried, as well.

They weren’t letting the two of them see Jason, and that was okay. Neither of them had ever been close to Jason. Not that Dick or Tim had been, exactly, but they cared in a way Cass and Duke admittedly didn’t.

“Is there anything that could slow down his aging process, at least?”

“Nothing but putting him into stasis, and he would not thank you for that, Bruce.”

Duke dared to ask: “But Nygma said the effect of the gas should stop once he’s reached his proper age, right? So that should be… alright?”

“And what,” Bruce ground out, “if the next time he phases forward, he’s dead?”

“Bruce.” Zatanna put a hand on his shoulder, empathy in every line of her body.

Bruce shook her off as if he couldn’t bear the touch. “We don’t know if he’ll wake up this time.”

For a second, Cass wanted to hurt everyone who made Bruce sound like that. But she knew there was nothing she could do. Love, she knew, cut like that sometimes.

——

Damian was well aware that they would prefer to keep him far away from Todd. To a certain extent, he understood. He would not wish more people than necessary to watch him relive his own childhood, either.

However, no one in this family was prepared for what was coming next. Damian knew.

The minute the screaming began, Damian walked into the room.

Jason was convulsing on the bed. Dick was frantically checking him for injuries, and Damian clicked his tongue. “That won’t help. He is not bleeding.”

Bruce turned to him. “Damian, what—”

“He’s in pain. His body is half-alive, half-dead,” Damian told them calmly. His voice wasn’t shaking. It wasn’t. “It won’t stop until he swims in a Lazarus Pit.”

His father should not look like this. Helpless. Pitiful. Damian resented him for it, just a little bit. Father had not been there the first time. This would only last for hours, and all he had to do was wait. The crushing weight of how to fix this was not on him as it had been on Mother.

“I’m going to get a tranquilizer,” Dick murmured.

——

Duke wondered what they would do if Jason woke up in full rage mode. He had seen the files, had read everything he could the minute this started happening. Cass had told him the rest, pieced together from hints her brothers had dropped over the years. There was no way they could deal with that if they were unprepared and Jason was in their home. No way.

So he was… nervous. Just a bit. Enough so that he was camping out in front of the bedroom that they were keeping Jason for now. Sure, Jason had been medicated, but Duke had seen Bruce trying that on Red Hood before. Red Hood had barely slowed down. Whatever the Lazarus Pits were, exactly, they sure did a number on a person’s metabolism.

Duke got his answer when Bruce sent everyone out of the room. Batman would wait alone, then. Dick and Tim obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

Tim, however, returned a minute later with Bruce’s utility belt, shock full of batarangs and other weapons. The older man, however, hesitated to take it.

“Bruce,” Tim said, and he very gently touched a scar on his neck.

Bruce took the belt.

——

The next morning, Jason left.

Minutes before, Bruce watched him as he woke up.

He had known as soon as he had seen Jason as a toddler that his son would not forgive him for this. The others, maybe. They had only tried to help. Bruce was the one too selfish to let Jason keep his secrets, bring him to people he trusted.

Because that sure as hell wasn’t him anymore. Deservedly so or not, Bruce had had to face that reality a long time ago.

Still, when Jason opened his eyes and there was only a tinge of green in them, nothing like the rage of the pit, just like they had been the last time Bruce had seen him without the mask—for that one moment, Bruce allowed himself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, Jason wouldn’t remember. Then he could use the whole thing as a learning experience—see it as bonding, even—something that would allow them to finally move on; that would help Bruce to find the right trigger to get Jason to give up his mad crusade and come home.

Then Jason blinked, and his eyes were empty even of hate.

“My phone?” was all he asked.

“In the cave.” Bruce kept his voice even because what else could he do?

Jason nodded. Then he left, and he did not come back.

#elareine writes #rewind fast forward stop #batfamily #jason todd

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charmed-henry · 3 years

Text

The Adults Are Talking | The Order

Phil and Tom take it from here. Mostly.

TW: Discussion of the attack, description of a dead body

@prince--thomas @knightley--phillip @thehuntress-rose

PHIL

Right, so John had to sub in last minute for a class, which meant Phillip and Tom were in charge of this little meeting, which was objectively a terrible idea. But here Phil was, bringing out a tray of drinks and setting it on the coffee table. Rose and Henry sat on the couch. Phillip, doing his best imitation of John, sighed deeply and took a seat on a chair he'd preemptively lugged from the dining room across from the sofa.

"So... you two fought off some mysterious deep lake creature."

HENRY

Henry felt like he was going to explode. On one hand, he was really excited to share his epic tale and impress everyone, but on the other, he had to be really careful about what he said about his plan. He couldn’t out Eric. And the thought of lying to Phil was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Phil already looked tired. Which Henry understood, sort of, but it wasn’t like he was the one to fight off the monster, right?

“Yup. Had to really improvise— didn’t exactly pack my weapons for a trip to the beach. Turns out hitting the thing right over the head really worked out. Not to worry, though, Rose and I are going to take this thing out for good. Right, Rose?” Henry smiled like he was a news reporter delivering the weather.

ROSE

Rose sat with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. She knew what this was as soon as she got her summons. Hell, she got one last time she did something high profile... ex. pulling a knife on someone. And that someone was here to scold her now.

Phil had brought them drinks and seemed cheery enough, but that meant he was good cop. Henry was gonna tell them whatever they wanted to impress them, but Rose didn’t care about that. Especially when they were going to take this away from them.

“Yeah, we are. So why have we been summoned here again?” She said with a lot more attitude than the golden retriever next to her.

TOM

For the record, Tom was not pissed that Henry and Rose had helped that poor girl. That was their jobs and helping people came before all else.

But, he was worried and that worry translated into a tightness in his shoulders from where he stood leaning against the wall in the living room with his arms crossed. He didn’t want to sit down because he felt this sort of pent up energy bubbling in him that made him want to pace.

His eyes cut to Rose, unamused at her attitude. It didn’t come off as self assured. It came off as cocky. And that cockiness was going to get her or someone else hurt or exposed.

“Because this problem involves all of us,” Tom said, pushing off the wall so he was standing at his full height. “You’re not the only ones here and we need a debrief on the situation, so we can decide what to do.”

PHIL

"Right." He nodded, thankful that Tom was taking up John's job here. Phillip liked to hide behind John when it came to serious things like this, because frankly, even though he was pretty damn good at the whole fighting and protecting thing, he hated doing mission debriefs and all that boring paperwork and sucking up stuff.

Not that this was sucking up, per say, but he didn't want to be mean to Henry and Rose. Not when Henry was beaming so brightly at doing a good job.

"You lot did good work, but we can handle it from here," he said. "Tom's whole family schtick is dangerous water magicks and besides -- if you don't pass your finals, that'll be a whole other problem to deal with."

HENRY

That caught Henry by surprise. His face fell, the easy, jovial grin gone.

"But... I thought you'd want our help, since we're the ones who fought the monster. We'll be better prepared next time and we'll take it out for good. The only reason we didn't this time around was because there was a civilian involved," Henry protested, the disappointment showing on his face. "Isn't that why we're all here? I can do this, just... give me the chance to prove it to you."

For the thousandth time, Henry wished Eric were here. That would be a third person on their team, and someone who also specialized in water magicks. Maybe that would help his case. But he knew he couldn't say that. He had made a promise to Eric.

Henry glanced at Rose sullenly, already knowing what her reaction would be. And fine, he thought, let her yell at them. It was how he felt inside, too.

ROSE

This was utter bullshit. How could they treat them like children?Why was she was old enough to have sex with but not to do what she had been sent here to do? “It doesn’t involve all of us though. It involves me and Henry because we were there! And you’re trying to uninvolve us. We aren’t fucking kids, we can handle it. I don’t need a marine biologist family to kill a fucking sea creature, believe it or not, I’m quite capable of taking care of my own shit. Henry too!” She smacked his arm, hoping to get an agreement. Rose knew he wouldn’t fight back from this, so she had to fight this bureaucratic bullshit for the both of them.

“We aren’t ornamental.” She sneered at Phil when he spoke again. “Please, don’t act like you care about my grades. School is the least of my problems right now.”

TOM

“This isn’t about your damn pride!” Tom snapped at Rose.

“This is about who has more experience. Who is better suited to this task. If you don’t want to be treated like a child, act like an adult!” Tom rarely raised his voice, but he was frustrated and worried.

He knew Rose was capable. He’d seen her take on a bloody vampire, but she’d done it with help. Working on a team.

“You can help us by telling us what you know.” His gaze turned to Henry. He wasn’t annoyed with him, but his features were still drawn and serious.

“You can help us by telling us what you know. We are not saying what you did was wrong or bad—but this needs to be handled discreetly.” His eyes flicked back to Rose for a moment before settling again on Henry.

PHIL

TW DEAD BODY DESCRIPTION

For a moment, Phillip was quite. He folded his hands together, fixing his gaze on Rose as she fumed at him, glancing briefly at Tommy as he retorted back. There was a second of silence before Phillip spoke again.

"Three years ago, we met up with a team off the coast of Scotland about a kelpie problem," he began. "Young team -- round your age now. 'course we were younger then. And we had a strategy. Or rather, John had a strategy and we had a whole plan. And then one reckless kid decided since he was the one who'd spotted the bloody thing, he'd be the one to do it in. He snuck out the night before we were supposed to launch our mission." He flicked his eyes to Henry. "We found his body trampled to bits as the sun came up. Had to collect him in five separate bags. Never actually found his left hand."

He sighed, wincing as he thought of Charles Norrington.

"I know you're both talented. And strong and capable. But this is the sort of thing that relies not just on that but strategy and planning and teamwork, okay? I don't want to have to clean up another body because one of you decided to play hero."

HENRY

Henry paled, the description making him feel just a little nauseous. Personally, he still thought he could handle this. He and Eric had planned everything out. But it was a sobering thought— especially when thinking about his and Eric’s close call on the ice back in the winter. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death.

But what would his father say?

Henry’s loyalties were always torn between his family and the greater Order. The Order wanted him to be a team player, to leave the difficult missions to the more experienced people. But his family wanted him to seek personal glory. And to bring that glory to the often-ridiculed Charming name.

If Henry could pull this off, take care of the monster for good and maybe even bring Eric back into the Order? He might permanently prove himself in the Order. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

But Henry knew he wouldn’t get anywhere in this meeting by saying that. Rose was being much more direct than Henry, and Henry could tell it was getting them nowhere. He was going to have to do the thing he hated.

He was going to have to lie.

Henry sighed, the guilt already eating at him. But what choice did he have?

“You’re right,” Henry said, avoiding Phil’s eyes. Hopefully Rose would catch on. “We’ll help you all prepare, but if the three of you want to be the ones to fight the beast, I trust you.” He glanced at Rose, hoping his gaze communicated Just go with it.

ROSE

The story didn’t dissuade her. So what some kid got got by a kelpie! It was kind of embarrassing in her opinion. And Tom berating her did nothing to ease her into cooperating. Sure, it wasn’t about her pride... it was about their’s. How they were older and better and more experienced. But if they didn’t need her, then why was she here?

She wasn’t here to be shark bait. Or to be an Order lady. She was a huntress too. And it wasn’t fair!

She was about to speak up; say anything about the injustice she felt, but Henry spoke first. You’re right he said. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. Of course he’d yield to his superiors, but they weren’t her’s! Rose opened her mouth to say something snarky, yet again, but the look he gave her stopped her. Henry was plotting something.

“Fine. But only because Henry is fine with it. It’s still not fair.”

TOM

When Phil mentioned Charlie, Tom’s jaw clenched and his weight shifted. He knew this was the price of being a Prince. He still hated that was the case, especially when it was someone so young and so stupid and it was so avoidable. Accidents happened. Being in the Order was dangerous.

After all: his own father had died on a mission. His father, who had been the best of the best in the Order—and he had still died.

Tom didn’t want to lose anyone else. Especially not on his watch. And especially not for something that was avoidable.

When Rose and Henry agreed without more fuss, Tom turned his head, sharing a look with Phil. It was a subtle quirk of his eyebrow, but he knew that Phil would see it as: doubtful. He trusted Henry, but he definitely did not trust Rose. She’d been too angry just a moment ago to want to back down easily.

“Alright,” Tom said, nodding his head. “Now, tell us what you know: what did it look like? It’s behaviors? Anything you remember that could be helpful.”

HENRY

Henry relaxed his shoulders when Rose went along with his plan-- though he still felt the guilt of lying to Phil and Tom gnawing at him. He didn't have much of a plan right now. He hadn't expected that to actually work. So now he had to improvise. Henry cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Erm... Pretty big. Humanoid, sort of, like a mermaid but covered in scales entirely, more of a dull gray color than the shiny ones you'd expect from a mermaid. I didn't get a good look at any identifiers past that, but Rose might've seen something. It just, er, seemed like it really wanted to attack Candace, dunno what its plan was beyond that but it backed off when I hit it in the head. Maybe it got scared. It's probably still out there in the water, can't imagine it'd survive on land. Er, did I miss anything, Rose?"

ROSE

She had flipped too quick. Now she had to sell it. Not anger, but a reluctant relinquishing of her power. Power that she never had back home and here was only an illusion. Rose wasn’t in the Order, so they couldn’t command her as if she were, right? Wrong.

Leaning back, she looked away from all of the expectant men. “It seemed hungry. I kicked it and it didn’t let go of her until we seriously injured it.”

PHIL

He nodded, mentally taking notes. He still didn't trust them to not just run off on their own -- well he trusted Henry, but Rose was not the best influence. Normally he thought it was funny but not right now.

"Did you see the rough direction it swam off in? We should start minimizing the search area."

HENRY

Henry shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't," he said, lowering his eyes. He couldn't imagine this could get any more embarrassing or painful, but he still wanted it to end as soon as possible. "I'd recommend searching the whole lake just in case. Let me know if there's any way I can help."

ROSE

Her arms were still crossed. She was almost pouting; like a kid who’d had their toy taken away. Rose hoped whatever Henry’s plan was worked out for them because if it didn’t they’d be in for it with the rest of them.

“Yeah, it could literally be anywhere in that lake. Maybe even the river at this point.”

TOM

Tom felt like they were holding information from them. He trusted Henry to back down, but he didn’t trust Rose. She had been a force of nature since she had arrived. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. The Order worked because the families trusted each other, because everyone worked as a team and listened to each other’s experience and knowledge. (It was easy for him to say this as a man and as a member of the Golden Trio.)

If they did not trust each other and work together, this could all fall apart. Rose had proved she was capable, now she needed to prove she was a team player.

She was, so far, not doing that.

“Alright, very well.” Tom shared a look with Phil, wondering if he had also realized that they were going to be of little help. “Thank you for the information and if you think of anything else, let us know.”

#phil #tom #rose #the adults are talking #shark attack #the order

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veronicamarsconfessions · 4 years

Link

I was hugely excited by the announcement that a fourth season of teen noir show Veronica Mars was going to be made, nearly fifteen years after the show’s initial air date (and cancellation after three seasons), and five years after the crowdfunded movie came out. As soon as the show dropped on Hulu (or Stan, if you’re in Australia like me) – a week earlier than initially slated, I rushed to watch it. And I was so distraught by the ending that it genuinely took two days for my mood to return to something even vaguely resembling ‘okay’.

For those of you who haven’t seen it *SPOILERS FROM HERE ON*,

season four has Veronica (Kristen Bell) chasing down a serial bomber who seems to be trying to destroy the Spring Break business in Neptune. It turns out that the first bomb was set by property developer ‘Big’ Dick Casablancas, trying to destroy the Spring Break business in order to buy the waterfront properties cheaply, and the subsequent bombs were set by a pizza delivery man, Penn Epner (Patton Oswalt), who fancies himself a detective and is out to find glory after he is initially ridiculed for his public accusation of an incorrect suspect. The season itself had several issues (one of them being some seriously murky motivations behind Epner’s behaviour, like, if he really was that much of a genius, why was he a pizza delivery man?, and that the people ultimately behind the crimes are more or less ‘hidden in plain sight’ all along, which is a disappointing departure from the way the initial seasons cleverly hid the villain until quite late in proceedings). However, the issue for which there is not enough therapy in the world to appease me is the season’s last-minute killing off of reformed bad-boy and Veronica’s long-time boyfriend, Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring), right after they finally got married.

Series creator and showrunner, Rob Thomas, justified this decision by saying ‘I know this seems crazy or harsh but Veronica is at her best when she’s an underdog and I don’t know that there’s much to root for if she’s now got a perfect relationship. I need to keep her fighting and I need to keep her a little bit uncomfortable in order to have a show. There’s nothing funny or interesting about perfection.’

Except that’s a deeply flawed understanding of how relationships function, and a deeply messed up thing to push on to people.

It’s fair to acknowledge that once the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ is resolved, TV shows often decline in quality, or at the very least, significantly depart from the original formula which made them into such beloved hits at their beginning. But there are two significant issues with this: First, the assumption that TV shows must remain the same in order to be good. There are some interesting observations that the job of the sitcom episode (in particular) is to return all characters to more or less their original starting points. While that is broadly true, TV shows, like life, need to evolve in order to stay interesting, and as across seasons, audiences grow alongside the characters they watch evolve and mature.

Nevertheless, it was fair for Thomas to note that the characterisation of Veronica is someone who is embittered and cynical about people’s fidelity and inherent goodness – after all, when we first meet her at the age of sixteen, her best friend has been brutally murdered, she’s been raped, her alcoholic mother has upped and left, and her adored father and moral compass has been socially ostracised for a) doing his job and b) being not super wealthy. It’s a lot. Veronica’s very understandable trust issues are compounded by the moonlighting she does as a P.I where, to she regularly sees people cheating on one another and generally behaving in unpleasant ways. So it’s reasonable to point out that for Veronica, the notion of the ‘happily ever after’ is a deeply uncomfortable one. But to keep her in the same mindset as she was at aged 16 is to deny her the capacity to grow as a character.

It’s fair that there was a desire to avoid repeating the pattern previously established (withdrawn/bitter etc), but – and here is my ultimate point – that could have been avoided.

Some of the most complex and interesting storylines come from couples who get together and have to navigate relationships; compromising to fit together, find a way to make it work. Think about the evolution of Niles and Daphne’s relationship in Frasier (and leave aside some of the aspects to his earlier infatuation with her that seem distinctly distasteful in a post-#metoo world). While much of the humour between them in earlier seasons was because of his unrealised ardour for her, after they became a couple, the hardships they navigated through being a couple, and the deepening richness of their relationship that was both romantic and based in friendship, produced some truly hilarious moments. Similarly, one of my (and our fabulous Chief Nerd, Elise’s) favourite TV shows, Chuck, *SPOILER* has the two leads get together in season 3. The show was no lesser for that fact because as Chuck and Sarah’s relationship deepened, they explored facets of themselves that they hadn’t previously shown – it provided more material for the writers, not less.

One of my favourite articles on the ending of Veronica Mars, season four, pointed out that Logan has the most interesting character development because he works to better himself – he has come a long way from the miscreant teenager who organised ‘bum fights’, and he had the potential to become an even more interesting character. How this interacted with Veronica’s cynicism could have provided significant fodder for more story.

But, giving full credit to Rob Thomas for a moment here, the show is called Veronica Mars, not Logan Echolls. So the decision to axe Logan was made to push Veronica’s character development forward, especially given the shows position as a gender-flipped noir which so often has the embittered, cynical detective dealing with the ongoing pain of a tragically killed love.

But the problem is that I can’t actually see how this is going to do anything but ossify Veronica’s primary characteristics: bitter, a hardnosed and reckless desire to catch the bad guy at any cost. Moreover, in most of the noir detective stories, this love has died before we meet the hard-bitten detective.

Thomas said to The Hollywood Reporter, “Moving forward, we’re going to really build around [the idea that] the case is the thing and less of the soap opera of Veronica’s life.” Except Veronica Mars is all about character. Her interactions with her father, Keith (Enrico Colantoni) and the genuine bond of affection between them evokes some of the show’s most poignant interactions. Her internal struggle when the pursuit of justice comes up against questions of morality is inherent grounded in her character. One of its most interest aspects across the years is that Veronica is often wrong. She falsely accuses people (including Logan himself), she behaves badly, she takes her friends for granted, and she can be reckless to the point where she endangers herself and someone has to come in and rescue her (case in point: wandering into the base of an Irish gang that had a particular grudge against her father). So to strip away the elements to the story that allow for depiction and consideration of those complexities would be to lose much of the show’s point.

There’s also a part of me that feels the way in which Logan was killed feels personal. Logan and Veronica were never initially meant to get together, but in the first episodes, the chemistry between the characters, and Kristen Bell and Jason Dohring was so profound that it was written in. I might be putting on my tin foil hat to say this, but it feels as though Thomas resented the manner in which LoVe became such a pivotal part of the Veronica Mars ‘brand’. What really underpins that for me is that the way the series sent off other characters was considered, and gave them a certain ‘exit’. The way in which Logan was killed off feels almost like an afterthought, made more so by some of the questions that arise from the manner. How did he know that she would be in it when it actually blew up? Moreover, the convenience of him leaving a voicemail for his therapist about why he wanted to marry Veronica (why exactly would he call his therapist to tell him about his epiphany? Who has that kind of relationship with their therapist?), and this woman’s decision to keep it from Veronica for a year seems weirdly contrived. Because it was.

However, to be fair, one could claim that the season mistreated some of its other characters, too. Tina Majorino who plays Cindy ‘Mac’ Mackenzie specifically noted that she did not want to return because she did not want her character to be sidelined. Similarly, the complexity to Eli ‘Weevil’ Navaro’s character was stripped away, as was the depth of his relationship with Veronica. What’s worse is that this could have been a really interesting storyline; why he decided to walk away from the court case which would have seen him awarded with compensation for what happened to him in the movie. While we are told that his wife left him along with his child, prompting him to return to his old gang-running ways, the depth of his grief and the reputable life he lost were never really portrayed. Honestly, I would have preferred that rather than the convoluted storyline that involved Mexican cartel hitmen.

But beyond my argument as a writer as to why Logan’s death was a totally unnecessary element to bring in, it also feels like a real slap in the face to fans. I’ve previously talked about the relationship this show has with its fans. Realistically, season 4…hell, the movie, only existed because of the love and support fans showed the show.

Any narrative material exists to interact with fans. Obviously, there is a fine line that can cross into blatant pandering, and there is also a trend that offers a ‘gritty’ or ‘sad’ end (ie the tragic death of the lover), but it’s a balance.

The Veronica Mars movie was very much fan service – it was, after all, fan funded. Much of the movie’s contents and storyline were determined by what Thomas was seeing from fan comments on social media, noting “I did have an idea of things people wanted to see, characters I wanted to get an appearance in, whether it felt extraneous or not.” He added, “there’s no way in the world we would have had a fan-funded movie and I would have killed Logan,” he added.

In the same interview, he said, “I fear that leaning into the high school soap that the show started out as is a losing proposition, that it will start feeling nostalgic rather than vital. If Kristen [Bell] and I want to make more of these Veronica Mars mysteries, I think it’s going to survive best as a true mystery show with a badass PI at the center of it, and I think that works better if the PI doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

Yet for a show whose who schtick was challenging the noir detective genre, it seems the prospect that someone fundamentally gritty and damaged can also have a relationship that the struggle to be healthy was simply a bridge too far.

And at the crux of it, what really frustrates me – as a fan, and as a writer – is that for Thomas, it simply felt too hard to give Logan and Veronica an enduring relationship, and it if wasn’t too difficult, then he perceived it destroyed some fundamental part of the show by making it emotionally sappy. If that’s the dichotomy in which Thomas thinks, then Veronica Mars is no longer the show which attracted its die-hard following of fans and may as well be a different show with a similar premise.

#Veronica Mars #Rob Thomas #Kristen Bell #Logan Echolls #Jason Dohring #news

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until-the-sun-rises · 5 years

Text

Virgil’s Promise

AU Intro Post

AU Creators: @a-valorous-choice and @ironwoman359

Summary: Virgil, his mother, and his little brother Thomas have been living in the woods since a virus outbreak wiped out most of the population, including Virgil’s father. Life can be bleak, but they make the most of what they have. However, when Virgil’s world is turned upside down again, will he have what it takes to keep his little brother safe?

Content Warnings: Apocalypse AU, angst, character death, death of a parent, guns, knives, violence, mentions of blood, zombies (called terminals in universe), mentions of eating people (in a zombie sense, not a cannibal sense), crying, grief, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, cursing, bittersweet ending. PLEASE let us know if you need anything else tagged, and stay safe! There are moments of comfort sprinkled throughout but this is mostly an angst piece with, again, a bittersweet ending. Do what you need to do to protect yourselves <3

Word Count: 5,464

Read on AO3 Here

Author’s Notes: Here it is, the first installment of the AU! I had such a fantastic time writing this, I’m really really proud of it, and can’t wait to hear what you guys think! Looking ahead, you can expect more introduction fics like this for our other main players, then we’ll get into other details of the main plotline! In the meantime, asks are open if you’d like to scream at us about the AU, we’d love to scream back! Love you guys, thanks so much for the support! -Taylor ☕️

--- --- ---

“Mom, I found more berries!”

Virgil looked up to see his eight-year-old brother holding out a handful of dark purple berries with a wide grin stretched across his face.

“Thomas, put those down!” their mother Emma cried, rushing over to Thomas’s side. “Those are pokeweed berries, honey, you can’t eat those. They’ll make you very very sick if you eat them, okay?”

“Oh...okay. Sorry.”

Thomas’s lip wobbled a little, and Emma smiled, smoothing back Thomas’s hair.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you didn’t know. They’re very pretty berries, aren’t they?”

“Uh huh,” Thomas agreed, nodding. “That’s why I thought they were fine to eat.”

“There’s lots of things in the woods that look pretty, but not all of them are safe, okay? Pokeweed berries are never fine to eat, they make you really sick. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good boy.” Emma smiled, and pointed over his shoulder. “Now, see those white flowers behind you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Those are Queen Anne’s lace flowers. And their roots are actually wild carrots! Why don’t you go over and dig some up for us, okay?”

Thomas nodded eagerly and skipped over to the patch of flowers. Emma sighed in relief, and sat back on her heels, smiling fondly as she watched her son.

“I thought pokeweed was okay sometimes?” Virgil asked, coming up behind her, causing her to jump a little.

“Virgil! You startled me, who taught you to move so quietly?”

Virgil grinned.

“You did. When you insisted you take me paintballing for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Fair’s fair,” Emma laughed. “What did you ask me just now?”

“Pokeweed,” Virgil repeated. “I thought you could eat it sometimes?”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Well, that’s true, but never the berries, or the roots. You can eat the leaves sometimes, but only if the plant is young. If you see the berries start to form, even if they’re still green, you shouldn’t even try. And you should boil the leaves first too. If you’re not careful, you could get vomiting or diarrhea...and that’s something we want to avoid when we’re fighting for our lives, isn’t it?”

She said it in an upbeat tone, but the sombering nature of their reality couldn’t help but settle over Virgil’s shoulders anyway. He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, gripping the soft fabric tightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Emma said softly, and Virgil shrugged.

“S’not your fault. The whole world is kinda upsetting right now.”

It had been three months since the outbreak, three months since Virgil’s father had died and he’d been on the run with his mom and brother, trying to stay alive. Fortunately, Emma was an avid camper and lover of the outdoors, so the three of them had been able to avoid towns for the most part. Sure, staying away from civilization meant that they were living off of mostly foraged plants and birds eggs, and it’d been ages since Virgil had taken a real shower, but those were small prices to pay for being able to mostly avoid the terminals. Thy tended to be in larger groups closer to towns and cities, so sticking to the country meant fewer encounters with the deadly infected creatures.

People, Virgil thought grimly. They may be like monsters now, but they used to be people.

“I know it is, sweetheart,” his mother said, pulling him from his thoughts. “And it’s not fair, how fast you’ve had to grow up now.” Emma sighed, looking over to where Thomas was eagerly digging up roots for their supper. “You should be enjoying your summer, deciding on a college or a career...not this.”

Virgil shrugged.

“I didn’t really know what I wanted to do anyway.”

“I know that,” Emma said, giving him a sad smile. “But you had time to figure it out, to explore the world and decide what kind of man you’re going to become. Now that’s a luxury you don’t have anymore.”

Virgil looked down at his shoes, swallowing nervously. It wasn’t like his mom to be so openly melancholy; if anything, since they’d gone on the run she’d become even more upbeat and cheerful than usual. He had a feeling that she was trying to keep a brave face up for him and Thomas, but just because he knew it was partly an act didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate it. Some days he could almost pretend that this whole thing was just an extended summer camping trip, and then they’d go home and their dad would greet them at the door and they’d tell him all about it while sitting on the sofa in front of the TV.

That illusion shattered every time they came across a terminal.

“Virgil, listen to me,” Emma said, and there was an urgency to her voice that made Virgil look up. “Right now, the only thing we can be certain of, the only thing we can rely on, is each other. It’s my job to look out for the both of you, and it’s your job to look out for Thomas. Protecting him has to be the top priority, alright?”

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I...I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Oh, honey, come here,” she said, and Virgil let her wrap her arms around him.

He felt exceptionally small in his mother’s embrace, but not the bad kind of small where he felt powerless and afraid. He felt safe, protected, shielded from all the horrors of the world. Her grip tightened, and Virgil realized with a start that she was trembling.

“Mom?”

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “You’re so strong, and so brave. Thomas is lucky to have you for a big brother.”

Virgil didn’t feel strong most days, and he certainly didn’t feel brave. Most of the time he just felt scared; strength and bravery were attributes he’d be more likely to apply to his mother than himself. But the way she held onto him now, as though he’d disappear if she let go for one second made him realize that she was also scared. Scared for herself, but scared for him, too, and for Thomas; scared that she couldn’t keep them safe in this new world full of dangers.

Virgil may not have had much faith in himself, but he had faith in his mother. And she was putting her faith into him, and he’d be damned if he let her down.

“I won’t let anything happen to him, Mom,” he repeated, hugging her back tightly. “I promise.”

--- --- ---

Virgil’s heart was pounding so heavily he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest. Wouldn’t that just be his luck, he’d escape being eaten by terminals only to fall over dead from a heart attack. His lungs were on fire, and his legs threatened to buckle underneath him more and more with every step. But then Thomas whimpered in his ear, burying his face deeper into Virgil’s neck, and Virgil took a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on Thomas’s legs and pressed forward, his mother’s instructions echoing in his ears and urging him onward.

The old cabin had seemed deserted enough, with no trace of the previous inhabitants anywhere, so they’d gotten a little too relaxed as they searched the building for supplies. But it turned out the area wasn’t as deserted as they thought, and the sound of his little brother screaming had brought Virgil barreling out of the bathroom and into the main room to see three terminals bearing down on his family. Virgil’s mother was gripping a tire iron like a baseball bat and standing between Thomas and the advancing creatures.

“Virgil,” she’d said in a low voice. “Take Thomas and get out of here, now.”

Virgil hadn’t wanted to leave her, but the look in her eyes had left no room for argument, so he’d scooped his brother up piggyback style and fled towards the back door, wincing as he heard his mother let out a primal roar, followed by a sickening *thwack*.

Virgil didn’t stop running until he stumbled back into the clearing where they’d made camp, collapsing to his knees and letting Thomas climb off his back. Every muscle in his body ached, and for a moment he just stayed on the ground, gasping as he fought to get his breath back.

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, voice wobbling, and Virgil looked up to meet his brother’s tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil gasped, managing to give his brother a small smile. “I’m...I’m okay...just...just catching my breath.”

“Is Mom okay?”

Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it again. Part of him wanted to lie, to promise that their mother would be just fine and would come and get them when the scary monsters were all gone. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and he met his brother’s gaze with a grim expression.

“I...I don’t know, Thomas.”

Thomas fell silent, and for a moment neither of them moved, Virgil still gulping down breaths of air, trying to get his wind back. Then, so suddenly that it made Virgil jump, Thomas crawled forward and nestled himself into Virgil’s lap, wrapping his arms around his middle and laying his head on Virgil’s chest.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” he said, and Virgil nodded, wrapping his arms around Thomas and drawing him closer.

“Yeah, it is, buddy,” he said quietly.

“You should count your breaths like Mom says to do. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea,” Virgil said, grateful for something that could distract them both. “How about we do it together? Remind me how it starts again?”

Thomas scrunched up his nose as he thought.

“You breathe in for four counts, right?”

“That’s right, good job. Let’s do that together, okay? In, two, three, four…”

Virgil led them through the rest of the breathing exercise over and over again until Thomas drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the stress of the day. Virgil wanted nothing more than to join him in a nap, but he couldn’t sleep now, he had to stay up and keep watch, to see if their mother...or anything else, would approach the camp.

He waited for what felt like hours, every sense straining for any sign that somebody was coming. Finally, just as the sun was starting to dip in the sky, he caught sight of someone slowly walking towards the campsite. His heart leapt as he recognized his mother’s silhouette, short but strong with hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Thomas?” he murmured, giving his brother a small shake. “Wake up, Mom’s here.”

“Hmm?” Thomas asked blearily, still half asleep.

“Mom is…” Virgil trailed off as he looked back towards where their mom was walking.

Something was wrong.

Oh no...oh god, no, not this, please not this…

“What about Mom?” Thomas asked again rubbing at his eyes.

Oh god, I can’t do this, I can’t deal with this, please…

Virgil’s grip tightened on Thomas, and he scrambled to his feet, backing away while keeping his eyes trained forward.

“Virgil, what’s–”

“Thomas, listen,” Virgil said urgently, setting his little brother down. “I need you to hug this tree here and close your eyes, okay? Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t open them until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Virgil, is Mom–”

“Do you understand?” Virgil asked desperately, and after a beat, Thomas nodded. “Good,” Virgil breathed, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s for a moment and taking a deep breath. “Close your eyes now,” he whispered, and he stood back up, turning back towards his mom.

No. That’s not Mom. Not anymore.

The woman that was lumbering towards him moved her limbs in broken, jerky motions, as though she was a poorly controlled marionette. Her eyes were bloodshot and empty, and saliva drooled out of her open mouth. A low moan escaped her lips as she came closer, and Virgil’s heart tightened in his chest. He’d seen terminals before, knew how they worked and how to kill them. But this...this was different.

This was his mother, and now she was a monster.

Virgil scrambled towards the log at the edge of their campsite where they’d stashed their supplies. There wasn’t much there, just one change of clothes, a few handfuls of food, the last of their bandages, and...there. His mom’s .22 rifle.

“We only have one bullet left, Virgil. So until we can find some more ammo, we’re not going to hunt or travel with this anymore, okay? We’ll keep it here in case there’s an emergency.”

Virgil’s hands shook as he pulled out the gun and checked to see that their last bullet was properly loaded. He’d never cared much for shooting, but after they’d made a run for the woods, his mom had insisted he learn to use it, teaching him how to hunt rabbits, possums, and other small animals that she’d then showed him how to clean and skin before cooking.

He’d never shot a terminal before.

Realistically, one of three things would happen. One, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would die, leaving their mother to feast on their remains. Two, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would turn terminal themselves, which basically boiled down to being brain dead while your body shuffled around in search of food. Or three...

Virgil raised the rifle up, tucking the butt to his shoulder and blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then he squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the forest, and though Virgil’s ears were instantly ringing, he could still hear the sound of Thomas’s scream from behind him. Everything seemed to slow down as Emma’s body dropped to the floor of their campsite, instantly going still. A blur flew past Virgil, and he just barely dropped the rifle in time to catch Thomas as he rushed towards their mother.

Thomas struggled desperately against Virgl’s grip, sobbing as he tried to get free and run towards her. Virgil just held him tighter, ignoring his own tears as he pulled Thomas away.

“Thomas,” he choked out as Thomas kicked and struggled. “T-thomas, no, it’s not safe...th-they can still turn you when they’re dead if you’re not careful…”

Thomas just kept kicking and sobbing, and Virgil could do nothing but hold him back, even as his own tears fell. Eventually, Thomas went limp against him again, though his little body still quivered with sobs, making Virgil’s heart ache even more. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball with his baby brother and sleep, sleep until all the anguish bled away and left him empty.

But a steely voice inside him insisted that no, he couldn’t do that. The terminals were drawn to loud noises, and the gunshot was sure to attract more of the creatures to this spot. They needed to move, and quickly, if they wanted to avoid any more confrontations with the creatures, and with only his hunting knife left to defend themselves with, Virgil would rather avoid running into more of the terminals.

“Thomas,” he said, drawing away to look his brother in the eyes. “Thomas, look at me.”

Thomas looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears trailing down his cheeks, and Virgil had to resist pulling him close for another hug. There would be time for grief later.

“I need you to go to the log and gather up all our things, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“M-mo...M-mom–” Thomas choked out, and Virgil cupped the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“I know, Thomas, I know,” he said, more tears pooling in his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, but it’s not safe for us here. More of them will be coming, and Mom would want us to get far, far away so that we can be safe. Okay?”

Thomas sniffled, but nodded, and Virgil smiled at him through his tears.

“There’s a brave boy. Now go gather up our things, we need to move.”

Thomas stumbled over to the log, and Virgil took a deep breath before turning towards his mother’s body in the clearing. His stomach churned as he approached, and he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. It wasn’t pretty, but he knew what he had to do.

Virgil pointedly kept his gaze away from his mother’s face and carefully knelt down, sliding the straps of her knapsack off her shoulders. He took care not to touch anywhere near her now foam filled mouth, remembering what the news reports had said about the creatures when the outbreak had first occurred...back when they were still running news reports.

The virus is transmitted via bodily fluids; even if the infected subject is deceased, their corpse may still infect others if their blood or saliva comes into contact with open wounds.

Virgil tugged the bag out from under her, stepping away as she fell back against the ground. A quick rifle through its contents revealed most of the supplies that they’d gathered from the cabin, and his heart twisted again in his chest. By the looks of things, she’d managed to fight off the three terminals from the cabin and had stayed herself long enough to gather up their supplies and head back towards their camp. She probably hadn’t even realized she’d been infected until it was too late.

Virgil took one last look at his mother’s body, and paused as he saw a glint of gold around her neck. He looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was packing up their bag, then bent down and quickly pulled a heart-shaped locket from around his mother’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, allowing himself one brief look at her face. “I’ll look after him, Mom, I promise.”

He slipped the locket into his pocket, then turned and walked over to Thomas.

“Hey, buddy. Got everything?”

Thomas looked up at him and nodded solemnly.

“Good. It’s time for us to leave then, okay?”

Thomas looked over at their mother one last time, then back up at Virgil.

“Can you carry me?” he asked.

Virgil could already feel exhaustion creeping over him, and his limbs still ached from their earlier escape, but right now? There was no way he could say no to his little brother.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll need you to carry the backpack though, okay?”

Thomas nodded, and after Virgil had helped slide it over his shoulders, Thomas climbed up and linked his arms around Virgil’s neck. Virgil gripped Thomas’s legs and stood up with a grunt, taking a moment to readjust his hold now that he was standing.

“Ready?” he asked, and he felt Thomas turn his head to look behind them again. His chest ached, and he reached up and gave Thomas’s hands a squeeze.

“Yeah,” Thomas said eventually, laying his cheek against Virgil’s back.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured, grabbing hold of Thomas’s legs again and stepping away from their campsite, one thought repeating over and over again in his mind as he walked.

I’ll keep you safe, Thomas. I promise.

--- --- ---

Keeping an eight-year-old alive and safe in the woods during the apocalypse turned out to be harder than Virgil had anticipated, and it wasn’t long before he was completely desperate. He’d tried to replicate the traps his mother had set, and tried to fish using makeshift spears or reels, but he was either doing something wrong or had horrible luck, because the traps remained empty, and he was unable to catch more than one or two tiny fish per attempt. It wasn’t long before their meager food supplies ran out, and eating roots and leaves could only satisfy a growing boy for so long. Virgil was out of options.

So he found himself here, gripping Thomas’s hand and standing on the outskirts of a small town at the edge of the woods.

For most of their time living wild with their mother, they’d avoided towns. Areas that were once populated may have meant more supplies, but they also meant more chances of running into terminals, and Emma had wanted to avoid that at all costs, choosing instead to rely on her history of camping rough with her family as a child for survival.

But Virgil simply wasn’t good enough to scrounge up enough to feed the two of them from the forest alone, so here they were.

“Okay, buddy, remember what we’re looking for?” he asked, looking down at Thomas.

“Canned food, clean clothes, blankets, and medicine,” Thomas rattled off, and Virgil smiled.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “Now, anything you find, you bring to me first to check the expiration date first, okay? We don’t want you eating something and getting sick.”

“I can read the dates myself, you know,” Thomas muttered, kicking at the pavement. “I’m not a baby.”

“Right, of course,” Virgil agreed with a smirk. “You’re not a baby, you’re just a pipsqueak.”

He reached down to ruffle Thomas’s hair, but his brother ducked away.

“I am not!” he huffed, glaring up at Virgil, and Virgil held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Just let me look at the food before eating it anyhow, okay?”

“Fine,” Thomas grumbled, and Virgil held back a sigh.

The two of them had been on their own for just about three weeks now, and while some days were perfectly fine, other days there was an unmistakable tension between the two. It was worse when they were hungry, and with nothing but flower roots to eat for the past three days, it was fair to say they were pretty hungry now.

“Thomas?” Virgil said, kneeling down so that he was eye level with his brother. “Can you look at me?”

Thomas glanced over at him, and Virgil offered up a small smile.

“I’m sorry if I seem too...overbearing. You know why that is, don’t you?”

Thomas shrugged, and Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s because I want to make sure that nothing bad happens to you. I know I’m not always the best big brother to have, but all we’ve got is each other now. So if I...make some mistakes along the way, just know it’s because I want to keep you safe, okay?”

Virgil was expecting Thomas to nod and move on, so he grunted in surprise when instead Thomas threw his arms around Virgil’s neck in a suffocating hug.

“Okay,” he whispered, and Virgil didn’t care that he could barely breathe, he hugged his brother back just as tightly. “You were wrong about something though,” Thomas added, his breath tickling Virgil’s ear as he spoke.

“Oh? What’s that, buddy?”

“You’re the very best big brother to have,” Thomas mumbled into Virgil’s shoulder, and suddenly Virgil was blinking back tears.

“Thanks, Thomas,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling Thomas closer.

He was about to let go when suddenly Thomas gasped, his whole body tensing up. Virgil’s eyes flew open in an instant and he stood up on instinct, gathering Thomas into his arms as he did so. There, barely a hundred feet away ambling into the street from behind one of the houses, were two terminals. It didn’t seem like they’d noticed the two brothers just yet, but searching the houses on this street had just become last on Virgil’s list of things to try that day.

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed in Thomas’s ear as he slowly stepped away.

He tried to turn back the way they’d come, but froze as he saw three more staggering towards them from that direction. He spun around, his eyes scanning the street, and his heart slowly sank into his stomach. There was no way out of this neighborhood that wasn’t blocked off by private fencing or didn’t involve going past the growing number terminals.

Well.

Not for him anyway.

“Thomas?” he said quietly. “Listen very carefully, okay?”

Thomas nodded, his cheek brushing against Virgil’s, and Virgil held his breath for seven seconds.

“I’m going to put you down,” he said slowly. “Then when I tell you, you're going to run straight down the street back the way we came, do you understand?”

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil pried him off his neck, setting him on the ground and staring at him intently.

“Do you understand?” he asked, and Thomas’s wide eyes filled with tears, but he nodded. “Good,” Virgil whispered, squeezing Thomas’s hand.

The terminals were ambling closer now, and he straightened up. He allowed himself one more squeeze of Thomas’s hand, then he let go and opened his mouth to scream.

All of a sudden there was a *thwap!* sound that came from between the houses, and then the terminal closest to Virgil and Thomas had an arrowhead sticking out between its eyes. The creature fell forward and Virgil froze, too stunned to move.

“Woo hooooooo!” a voice yelled from the direction the arrow had flown from, and the terminals turned towards the new source of sound. “Perfect headshot!”

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil dropped to the ground again, gathering his arms around Thomas and pulling him close.

Another arrow flew into a nearby terminal’s chest, accompanied by more cheers, then a wild looking man in a dirty green t-shirt with a white streak in his hair burst out onto the street, a machete gripped in his hand.

Virgil barely had time to wonder where on earth that maniac had gotten a machete before he was charging the terminals with it, squealing with delight every time his blade connected with a creature’s neck or head. It wasn’t long before every last one of them was no more than a bleeding corpse on the ground.

“Coast is clear!” he called over his shoulder, wiping his blade off on his already filthy pants. “Oh, no...wait,” he added as his gaze found Virgil and Thomas crouching beside a house. “Looks like we’ve got a live one, Dee!”

Another man emerged from across the road, a yellow beanie on his head and a bow and quiver strapped to his back, though Virgil’s eyes were first drawn to the large burn scar covering the right side of his face.

He approached calmly, ignoring the way Virgil scrambled to his feet and shoved Thomas behind him. He stared at the two of them for a moment, at Virgil’s narrowed eyes and Thomas’s hand clutching at Virgil’s leg before turning to his companion.

“Remus, put your blade away, you’re scaring them.”

The wild man, Remus, apparently, rolled his eyes but slid the machete into a sheath on his back and gave the pair of brothers a toothy grin.

“Whoopsy! Wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, as long as you’re not a terminal or about to turn terminal or about to steal our stuff or hurt our friends or just be a dick in general!”

“Forgive Remus, that’s just how he greets new people,” the man with the burn said, rolling his eyes in a fond sort of way. “He really does mean no harm...as long as you don’t fall into any of the aforementioned categories.” He raised an eyebrow at the pair. “Do you fall into any of those categories?”

“We’re not thieves, if that’s what you mean,” Virgil growled, and the man raised his hands.

“No need for the hostility, how about a ‘thank you for saving me and my…’” he raised a questioning eyebrow at Thomas, and after another moment of silence, Virgil mumbled,

“Brother. I’m Virgil, and this is my brother.”

“I see,” the man said, then he surprised Virgil by squatting down so he was at Thomas’s eye level.

“What’s your name, little man?”

Thomas looked up at Virgil, who placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod.

“Thomas,” he whispered, and the man smiled.

“Thomas? That’s a wonderful name. How old are you?”

“Eight,” Thomas said, then he puffed out his chest a little. “Almost nine.”

“Almost nine, my my! So grown up!” he smiled, then glanced up at Virgil. “And what about big brother?” he asked, standing up.

Virgil frowned, and pulled Thomas a little closer to his side.

“What’s it to you?” he growled, and the man quirked an eyebrow.

“Just wondering if big brother is grown up enough to take care of an almost nine-year-old all by himself.”

Virgil should have found the question insulting, but oddly enough, meeting the stranger’s eyes, Virgil didn’t sense any malice from him.

“I’m eighteen,” he admitted quietly, and the man nodded.

“Got anyone else in your party?” he asked, and Virgil clenched his fist at his side.

“No,” he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes dry. “Wouldn’t be trying to scavenge alone with an eight-year-old if I did.”

“Almost nine!” Thomas insisted, tugging on Virgil’s pants, and Virgil allowed a small smile to pull at his lips.

“Okay buddy, almost nine,” he said quietly.

“Right,” the man said, a smile flitting across his face as he looked down at Thomas. “Well, if scavenging alone on the streets with an almost-nine-year-old is getting a bit much to handle...I may have somewhere you two could stay for awhile.”

“You’re offering them a space at Eden?” Remus asked behind them, shaking his head. “Wade’s not gonna like that much, Dee.”

“Fuck Wade,” the burned man grumbled. “If he doesn’t like it, he can leave and they can take his bed. They’re just kids, Remus.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I had a problem with it,” Remus said shrugging. “And I’ll take any opportunity to fuck Wade. Not the fun kind of fucking, mind you, the violent kind.”

“Virgil, they said a bad word,” Thomas whispered, tugging on Virgil’s pants again, and Virgil didn’t know whether to attempt scolding the strangers or to laugh.

“Seriously, though,” the man called Dee said, turning back to Virgil. “We have a place out in the woods. Nice and secluded, hardly any terminals around, and plenty of people to fight them off in case a few do show up. We don’t have much, but we can offer you a warm bed and a roof over your head.”

It sounded tempting, Virgil had to admit. He could barely remember what it felt like to sleep under a roof, let alone in a bed, but he was skeptical.

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “What do you have to gain by taking two strangers in?”

Dee shrugged.

“We’re not a charity, if that’s what you mean. You’ll be expected to pull your weight around the place. But if you’re up for that, then you’re welcome to join.”

Virgil thought it over, but it didn’t take him long to come to a decision, really. He couldn’t ensure Thomas would be safe and fed every day if he stayed on his own. If there was even a chance that what these men were saying was true, Virgil would have to take it. He leaned forward, fixing Dee with a glare.

“Anything happens to him and I’ll kill you, you got that?” he asked in a low enough voice that Thomas didn’t hear.

Dee grinned, not unkindly.

“Got it.”

“Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath, then looked down at Thomas. “What do you say buddy, do you want to go somewhere safe with these, uh, gentlemen?”

Thomas seemed to consider it, staring up at Remus and Dee, then his stomach growled audibly.

“You have food?” he asked, and Dee chuckled.

“Yes little man, we have lots of food.”

“I wanna go then,” Thomas said, and Virgil smiled.

“Okay then,” he said, holding out a hand to Dee, who shook it. “We’re in.”

“Yay, new friends!” Remus said cheerily, bouncing on his heels. “This is gonna be fun, it’s been way too long since anyone interesting joined the camp, it’s no fun having only stinky Wade to share patrols with…”

Remus continued rambling on, about what exactly Virgil wasn’t sure, but he didn’t really care. He looked down at Thomas’s hand in his, then up at Dee who was watching the two of them with an unreadable expression, though it morphed into a smile when he saw Thomas looking up at him.

“Thank you,” Virgil mouthed at Dee, and the man nodded back.

Virgil couldn’t say exactly what he was getting himself into with these two, but he hoped that whatever it was, it would mean he could keep his promise. He slipped his free hand into his pocket, fingering his mother’s locket.

I’ll keep him safe, Mom. No matter what.

--- --- ---

Until the Sun Rises Taglist:

@the-permanent-fixture @maybe-i-like-the-misery @paint-in-flames @antisocialdragonenby @certified-demon @nonasidesstuff @idiot-annonymous @weird-spooky-broody-dude @ao-koshka @viana-dascolli @snail-giggles

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides apocalypse au #sanders sides au #ts fanfic #until the sun rises #story #blood #character death #minor character death #violence #apocalypse au #zombies #zombie au

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Field of Poppies Part 2

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 2: Amelia notices changes in Tommy but also notices changes in herself.

It took some time before Amelia was at least a little bit settled, a couple of weeks to be exact. Polly had warned all of the Shelby children to leave the young woman be and to let her figure out her place. That meant no asking about what happened in London, no asking about the baby, and no asking about the father of said baby. Instead, they talked to her about the things they’d been up to. A very short list, honestly. After all, they were all in Small Heath the entire time. The only thing that really changed was the death of their mother and their ages.

Although, Amelia did notice change in Tommy. He was a bit quieter than he was as a young teenager. Not as loud or rambunctious. However, he was still passionate. Still had an enthusiasm for horses and guns. But there was something budding that she noticed as soon as he started talking about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now there’s a grocer looking for a shop-girl. I’ve just spoken to his wife and I think they’d be good employers. They know you’re pregnant so they would make you do anything too taxing. Best you’re not lifting anything too heavy.” Polly said after sitting down with Amelia late one afternoon. “But if that doesn’t work out, there’s always work in one of the factories.”

Tommy who was listening in took instant offense to Polly’s suggestion. “She’s not working in a fucking factory, Pol.” He snapped protectively.

“She has a baby on the way, she’s going to need the money.” His aunt insisted. “Here you have to take whatever you can get, you know that.”

“You know what happens in those shitholes. People lose limbs to the machines and the bosses don’t give a fuck. They don’t even pay ‘em a decent wage.” He spoke with such anger in his voice. It was obviously something he cared a lot about. And since none of the Shelbys worked in factories, she could only assume it was based on friends he knew. What she did know was Tommy always had a big heart and especially hated injustice. She could recall several instances of him raising his voice over things he didn’t think were right or fair. On one such occasion, they couldn’t have been more than ten, he stood up for Curly because a couple of kids were making fun of the way he talked. When they refused to apologize, Tommy jumped the biggest kid of the pack and broke his nose. After that, the rest of the group hurried off.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Thomas, I’m just saying.”

“She doesn’t need to work; we’ll take care of her.” He leaned against the counter.

“That’s very sweet of you Tommy, but I’m sure you all have enough on your plate. I really don’t mind working.” In fact, Amelia felt like she didn’t have a choice. She could rely on the Shelbys for housing for a bit. But she wasn’t going to take money from them. If Arthur Sr was absent then that meant Polly was probably trying to make ends meet for the entire household. With money from the odd jobs that Tommy and Arthur did, that would mean there was only enough for them. Amelia felt it wasn’t her place to put more of a burden on the family.

“Well, soon we’re going to have a betting shop. We’ll make plenty of money and you won’t have to work.” He brushed aside her concern.

Polly threw a hand up. “This again…”

“Betting shop?” Amelia raised an eyebrow. It was the first she’d heard of the venture.

“Yep.” Tommy nodded proudly. “Arthur and I have already been taking bets for races. We’ve saved enough to buy the place next door for practically nothing. The last owner got kicked out. We’ll set it up as a betting shop.”

“An illegal betting shop,” Polly interjected. “No one with any good sense would give you two a fucking betting license.”

He just shrugged. “Don’t need a license if we don’t get caught.” He reminded her as if it were sage advice.

His aunt scoffed and rolled her eyes. “That arrogance will get you locked up or killed one day.” She pointed a finger at him.

Amelia had to agree with her. “Do you think it’s such a good idea?” She added.

“Maybe not a good idea, but it’ll make money. We’ve already made more money this week than we would’ve made in a month. With a shop front, we’ll make triple that.” He was so self-assured that Amelia couldn’t help but believe that he would make it happen one day. She never knew Tommy to be a quitter. That’s why she worried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luckily, the grocer hired Amelia to work the till at the shop. She fell into a nice routine fairly quickly. The hours weren’t too long, but they kept her occupied which was godsent. If she was busy working, she didn’t have to sit with her thoughts. The only time she worried about her future was at night if she couldn’t sleep.

As she became more settled with her routine, she felt like she could open up a bit more. For the most part, she didn’t say much when she was around the Shelbys. She engaged in conversation, but only to discuss what they were already talking about. She had no stories to tell. And it remained that way until Tommy began showing up to eat lunch with her a couple of days a week.

She’d take her lunch break with him by the back door of the shop, eating what Polly had packed for them that morning. They made use of the empty crates to sit on and use as makeshift tables. The alleyway was grungy and cramped but it was exactly what they’d grown up with. There was a time when Amelia knew the back alleys of Small Heath so well, she could probably run them blindfolded. They’d run through the pathways like obstacle courses, ducking beneath clotheslines, and leaping over boxes and trash. It was hard to really take in the dilapidated area when they were running so fast through it.

But at lunch, they sat, not really minding the smell like someone who was used to clean air might have. Amelia would give scraps to the cats that wandered around the neighborhood as Tommy talked. But it was hard to keep a conversation when only one person was really saying anything while the other simply agreed or nodded.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Tommy asked one day.

“What do you mean?” Amelia didn’t meet his eyes because she had a feeling what he meant.

“What happened in London.” He clarified. It had been weeks and Tommy was a bit worried about what she was keeping from them. Before she moved, there was nothing Amelia wouldn’t tell him. She was absolute shit at keeping secrets. If he had been trying to keep something from Polly or his mother, he would never tell Amelia. Sometimes she hardly even knew she was blabbing the secret until it was out of her mouth.

Now she was closed off and hardly even acted like the same person. It made him a bit disappointed. He’d been so excited to see her but it didn’t feel like how things used to be. Granted, they were older, but he assumed they would still have the same bond they had before.

Amelia chewed on her lower lip and kept her eyes on the sandwich in her hands. “I don’t know if you really want to know all the details, Tom. I don’t think it really matters anymore.”

“Matters to me.” He insisted. “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just…” He shrugged. “You’re just not like yourself these days and I wanted to know why. I wanted to know if you were okay.”

It had been a while since Amelia felt like anyone truly cared for her. And she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with the idea that Tommy cared enough to really listen to her. But she still felt so embarrassed by the circumstances that had landed her back in Birmingham. So much so that it brought tears to her eyes. “I just feel so lost.” She admitted after wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve. “I’ve felt lost ever since we left for London. I couldn’t find my place there, no matter how hard I tried. I thought maybe coming back here I’d feel better but I don’t. I feel like there’s no place for me anymore.”

Tommy set his lunch aside and stood up. “C’mon, you know you always have a place here.” He tried to comfort her as best he could.

“It’s not the same. I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do. I mean what am I going to do with a baby? I’ve got no family, nothing. What happens when he or she grows up and they find out the truth? God, what they’ll think of me.” She stifled a sob.

“C’mere, s’alright.” He murmured and sat down beside her so he could wrap an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve got a family here, yeah? We’re gonna look after you. I was serious about the betting shop.”

“Tommy…”

“Things are changing, Mel.” He said in a quiet but encouraged voice. “People aren’t happy with the way this place is being run. We’re not gonna let the rich walk all over us anymore.”

She searched his blue eyes, at a complete loss. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a girl I met named Greta. She invited me to a meeting about unions. This could be the start of people deciding things for themselves instead of being bossed around by people. People who’ve never worked a day in their fucking lives.” He spoke with such animation that one could do nothing but believe him.

“Tom…” Amelia sighed and let her chin fall to her chest, disappointed that she had to be the voice of reason. Disappointed that she had to dash his ambition. “I believe that you want to change the world. And I believe that if anyone had the ability to do it, it’s you. But you can’t just expect the world to turn upside down in a matter of days or even years.”

He let his arm slip away from her shoulders. He wasn’t angry, she wasn’t the first person to doubt. But it was disheartening to know that she wouldn’t be on board with the idea. He thought she might take to it, but it was an ideology that not everyone would accept.

“I’m sorry.” Amelia bit her lip. “That was shit of me to say.”

“No, s’alright.” He rubbed the back of his neck and retreated back to his spot across from her. He balled up the wax paper his sandwich had been wrapped in. With a distracted aim, he tossed the ball at a nearby trash bin. It bounced off the side and rolled to the ground. But Tommy didn’t get up to retrieve it.

“I just can’t focus on the rest of the world right now.” She frowned and rubbed her eyes. “It’s all too much to begin with but to think of…revolutions and-”

“You think I’m mad then?” Tommy cracked a smile, drawing her eyes back to him.

A light smile played on her lips but she shook her head. “No. I think you’re very well-intentioned. You always have been, always stand up for people who can’t stand up for themselves. I just think you have high hopes for the world.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But if no one else does, then we aren’t gonna solve anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before work, Amelia would walk Finn and Ada to school. This way, Polly didn’t have to lug Finn along in the pram, instead, she could tend to him at home. She would hold Ada’s hand as they made their way down the grimy streets of Small Heath. Neighbors would greet them and sometimes other kids would tag along.

John had a fondness for splashing in every puddle he could find and gawking at every car that might pass them by. He was taken by automobiles and always told Amelia that when he was older, he was going to have the biggest, fanciest, most expensive car ever made. She would just smile and nod. Who was she to tell him that people in Small Heath never scraped their way to the top? They were the forgotten ones of society. No one cared whether they had enough money to eat let alone enough money to ever own a car.

“Daddy’s coming home for my birthday.” Ada chirped to Amelia one day on their way to school.

“No, he’s not.” John retorted from a few steps ahead of them.

“John,” Amelia said in a warning tone. The subject of Arthur sr. was very touchy, especially for the youngest of the Shelbys. Ada and certainly Finn didn’t understand why he wasn’t around. It was difficult enough losing a mother but losing a father so shortly after would be even more challenging. Amelia could have issues with her parents but she felt they weren’t comparable to what the Shelbys faced. Especially at such a young age.

“Yes, he is, it’s my birthday and he has to come home.” Ada asserted.

“He didn’t come home for my birthday.” He turned to glare at his sister. “So why would he come for yours?”

It didn’t take much to make Ada cry. Although the young girl was strong-willed and tried to be tough like her brothers, she had a sensitive heart.

“John, apologize to your sister right now.” Amelia ordered.

“For what?” He shot back in a bewildered voice. “M’just telling the truth, she’s acting like a baby!”

Ada burst into tears and shoved past them both, running the last block to the schoolyard.

“What an awful thing to say, I hope you say you're sorry.”

John just kicked at a stray pebble on the street. “It’s the truth. Mum said we hafta tell the truth, so I did. Dad don’t care ‘bout any of us.” He shrugged and glanced the other way when a group of boys called his name. “She’ll forget by dinner, Mellie.” He promised and went to catch up with his friends.

Amelia stood in the street watching the kids all heading to class. An awful feeling settled in her stomach when she realized what she was up against in the coming years. A child asking who their father was. Where he was. Why he wasn’t there. Would she take the brunt of the anger? Would her child blame her for their father being absent? It was just another thing to add to the pile of scenarios she had to worry about. One more thing added to the list.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #john shelby #arthur shelby #polly gray #finn shelby #ada shelby

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thaliatimsh · 4 years

Text

Mystery Man Mark 2

We are deep in the research sauce, my friends. come scoop me out, I’m about to Battersby another mystery man of the franklin expedition: Second Lieutenant George Henry Hodgson.

Let’s lay the groundrules: G H Hodgson joined the Navy as a midshipman in June 1832, he passed his examination in October 1838, and was promoted to Lieutenant 23rd December 1842. Joining as a middie made me figure he was approximately 15 at the time of enlisting, putting his date of birth in 1817 (I was right, more on that LATER)

While researching for [REDACTED] purposes, I came across a tiny piece of information that knocked me backwards - at some point AFTER the start of the school year 1829 but BEFORE the start of the school year 1832, a lad called George Henry Hodgson was enrolled at Eton College. Boys generally start at Eton at the age of 13, so assuming THIS G H Hodgson started for the school year 1830, he *too* was probably born in 1817.

This ATE AT ME. I wish I could have been a normal person about this, but I’ve never been a normal person about anything, ever. I became CONSUMED with bloodlust. I had to know if these George Henries were the same George Henry. From the outside it looks good - we’d never seen both of them in the same room together - going to sea in June 1832 would be a reasonable excuse for why he wasn’t back at school for september 1832. But assumptions make an ass out of ump and tions, so we must go DEEPER.

Now, with the Free Tools available to me I found a fair number of George Hodgsons born in or around 1817 - I made a document of them, and promptly lost it! OOPS. Most of these George Hodgsons were born in Yorkshire, and on closer investigation, all appeared Alive And Well And Living in paris In Yorkshire in the 1861 census. I fell into a black depression. Lost faith in the existence of ANY George Hodgsons. Tried my best to put it out of my mind -

BUT NOT FOR LONG!

Free weekend on a genealogy site? Don’t mind if I DO. I’m back in, and never paying a penny. The hunt for George Henry Hodgson is BACK ON, and this time I FIND HIM -

In the Death Duty Index for 1854, George Henry Hodgson is registered dead by Reverend Beilby Porteus Hodgson of Hillingdon. 1854 was when the Franklin Expedition was offically lost - we can find all of our friends here:

John Irving is registed by Rev. L K Irving:

Edward Little by Simon R Little,

and I BELIEVE this is Captain’s Steward Thomas Jopson, registered by Mary Pratt

(wasn’t his registered relative his father, William? YES! Guess who ELSE was registered dead by Mary Pratt in the same year!! RIP JOPSON FAMILY)

okay, that’s only a few of them, but they’re on the same document, and I honestly need to sleep, you get the point. And I’VE got a new lead - the Rev. Beilby Porteus Hodgson, contenter for Stupid Name Award 1854 and VERY EASY TO FIND by virtue of having such a STUPID NAME.

So, in 1807, the Rev Robert Hodgson & his wife Mary baptise a baby boy they name Beilby Porteus - that’s right, they named their kid Robert Hodgson’s Uncle Beilby’s entire name, and check it out: we’re getting to Wikipedia Famous territory!

We hunt, we search, we uncover the family Hodgson:

Robert Hodgson marries Mary Tucker in 1804

They have a daughter, Henrietta Mildred in 1805 (I’ve lost my screenshot of her baptism but thankfully she’s got a wikipedia page)

Mary in 1806

Beilby Porteus in 1807

Frances, 1809 - 1816

In a 2-4-1 baptism:

Robert Francis, 1810

Edward Tucker 1812 - 1832

and FINALLY, on 25th January 1817: George Henry.

So… is this the Eton George Henry Hodgson? You know what, I’m saying YES, and here is for why:

1. Robert Hodgson is the Dean of Carlisle (cha CHING!)

2. The family live at 15 grosvenor st, St. George Hanover Square, mayfair: You don’t need to know much about London, but if you’ve ever played the Accursed Game Monopoly, you might recognise that Dark Blue Square of Evil, Mayfair. This is FANCY TERRITORY.

3. George Henry is CONSIDERABLY younger than his siblings: his oldest sister had a child by 1825, when George was just eight.

4. Edward Tucker Hodgson was ALSO at Eton, in the Fifth Form in 1826.

THUS: His father is very busy and important and also. WEALTHY. What better place to spend £300/year to dump your 13 year old son? Don’t answer that. I found out when Edward Tucker died in 1832, and then LOST IT. Was it important in the grand scheme of things? I don’t know. I miss him. George Henry Hodgson went to sea in 1832, and he never came back (except for a few brief periods)

What did we get out of this? NOT VERY MUCH. There is more to INVESTIGATE but I don’t have the money or energy to go to the Archives at Kew to get weird there.

Of course the reason I started going deep into this hole is due to AMC’s The Terror (2018) which means at some point I’m going to make a post about what I Think This Means in relation to the character from the tv show…. but for the time being, just have a tiny portion of my madness, and I hope it’s interesting to you. HAH.

ETA: FUCK, I forgot my favourite thing about this. Henrietta Mildred Hodgson married into the nobility, and is the Great Great grandmother of the Queen of England, thus making George Henry Hodgson her Great Great Great Uncle. Nice

#the terror amc #the terror 2018 #franklin expedition #george hodgson #validate me lol #that's my baby officer!

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amintyworld · 4 years

Text

Chapter Two: No Way - Sanders Sides Six AU

A/N: Guess who’s back! I worked very hard on this for a few months to bring ya’ll, and I hope you enjoy it. Special thanks, as always, to my test reader and friend @dee-ree-vee who’s helping me so much with this series. It totaled to 9 pages on a google doc, so hopefully, this helps if you need something to read these days. - Minty

First - Last - Next

TW: Cursing, manipulation, toxic relationship, mention of possible murder, near-death, bullying. (Tell me if I missed any!)

Summary: A look into Daniel (Deceit)’s past.

Remy yawned as he stretched, walking over to his bed. It was late, another boring dinner to get through - polite conversations about politics, the weather, and the governor’s new niece. Dull, and seemed always as a test to prove himself to the people of the court, as if being the ‘trouble’ child wasn’t enough.

He had kept his composure until the advisor had so graciously asked - “Now Remy, as we all know your… qualifications, it’s only fair to ask if you’ve considered a… alternate, if you were to not meet the needs of the people.”

King Thomas had to grab Remy’s arm from under the table to keep him from doing something he might regret. Remy struggled to keep his voice steady. “And why, may I ask, would we ever need an alternate?”

“Well, it just seems that your training has been to a lackluster performance at most. Truly, my prince, you cannot expect yourself to be ready for such a big position?” The advisor had smiled in mockery, for it was all too clear the real intentions behind his eyes - to make him cause a scene, and boy, did he know how to get under his skin! “Maybe it would be better if we could consider a position for you to use… your…” The advisor sized up Remy in distaste. “… ‘special’… talents…”

He barely got through the dinner without strangling the advisor’s smug face.

High above, a green spirit had been pacing, a light blue and bright yellow watching him. “Why, if I outta- he has no right saying anything like that to my great-grandson!”

“Slow your temper, Remus. You’re going to end up causing a scene and breaking some dishes again.” The bright yellow spirit had said - half his face was covered in scars, his eye cloudy. His hand reached up to rub his temple, and the light blue spirit at his side - a flowing blue gown with circular glasses and his long curls held up in a bun - had given him a reassuring glance, which made his yellow counterpart smile. “I swear if it weren’t for you and Roman messing with the mortals-”

“When I get a body, I swear I’m gonna give him the old one-two and then-!” Remus’s smile crooked too wide, his eyes wild. “THEN I’ll show him 'special talents’!” Remus said, laughing a bit madly, before resuming his pace.

Roman fazed through the wall in a bit of a hurry. “How’s Remy? Did he read it yet?!”

“Barely got through the first few pages, I’m afraid.” The light blue spirit, Patton had said warmly, looking toward the spirit in question. A growl could be heard from behind them. “Remus is in a bit of a haze after dinner.” Patton looked to Roman. “How’s Logan? The poor thing seemed so pale today.”

“He’s…he’s fine. The healer’s doing everything she can, but…with his old age…” Roman trailed off, not knowing the words, or rather, not wanting to say what was next. Patton rubbed his arm comfortingly, giving Roman a warm smile.

“Hey…” Patton’s voice was warm and soft. “He’s Logan - you know more than anyone he’s not going down without a fight, just like his father.” Patton smiled. “Remember how stubborn he was growing up?”

Roman smiled. “Yeah… every time I’d beat him in a sword fight, he’d get up and demand a rematch, no matter the scuffs and bruises. Tough kid.”

The yellow spirit sighed, utterly displeased as he held Remus back from going to go give a certain someone more than nightmares. “Remus, stop being so childish! Remy needs our advice, not someone to murder all his problems away!

Remus struggled against the restraint, growling. “Why can’t he have both?!” Patton looked over and sighed, strolling over. Time to sort this out.

“Remus?” Patton said. “You know if there was a death in the castle, especially overnight, people would wonder what caused it, and people would leave. They’d leave, and what would we do then? We can’t follow them, and we’d be stuck in a cold, dark, castle until the end of time. Do you want that?”

“N-no…but that bastard has NO RIGHT-”

“He’ll eat his words, I promise. But no murdering, okay?”

Remus grumbled. “Fine. No murdering.” The yellow spirit promptly released him, letting the green one slide down, his arms crossed. “The things I do for this family…” He muttered.

—————————–

Prince Daniel loved his husband more than anything in the entire world - This was a fact that didn’t need to be verified, nor confirmed. One could tell from the way Daniel’s eyes flickered to his love’s own frequently, admiring the way he looked out of the stiffness of his duties. One would revel in the way they danced, even when they hadn’t for weeks or months it felt like it had been mere hours.

When you were in their presence, you could tell they were meant for each other, that they balanced each other, and that truly, their hearts beat as one.

Salkenshire was their home, where they fell in love - where the teenaged prince was lovestruck by the siren voice beneath the balcony. They met in secret in the gardens, Benjamin held Daniel’s hands and made him feel like he was flying - like he was truly alive. On his 18th birthday, Benjamin smiled and held his lover close as he kissed him goodnight.

Daniel knew, in that moment, that kiss would be burned into his mind forever. He told himself that he’d never forget that night as long as he lived.

But, time can be a cruel mistress, even to those as happy as they.

——————————

Remy scanned the page full of doodled hearts and words of passion.

Passion coming from one of the empire’s most ruthless leaders? He must be dreaming.

Everyone knew the story of how the empire came to be - every citizen was brought up on the stories, plays were acted out every independence day, and the parents always scolded their children - “Don’t be so cold-hearted, my child! We don’t want you to become like King Daniel, hm?”

The words on the parchment made no sense at all - yet they were there, in front of Remy’s eyes. He could never have pictured their founder as such a romantic. He flipped the page, where their wedding was described in great detail, and he sighed. “Someone’s a bit obsessed.”

The yellow spirit just crossed his arms and stared off as the others, at the prince’s comment, turned to look at the royal in question. Daniel bit his lip, looking out the window at the rain. It felt familiar, like an old friend. He sighed, the argument replaying in his mind over and over, and it felt as if his heart broke and was pieced together, over and over again.

Daniel didn’t talk about the past much, not with anyone except Patton and Remus. Even then, the conversations were vague. In Daniel’s eyes, it was for a good reason - no matter how much the past stung and hurt, it couldn’t be changed. Daniel’s eyes watered, as the few tears left watery streaks down his cheeks.

No matter how much he wished it would.

——————————–

Daniel smiled as he rode in the carriage - it was their twenty-fifth anniversary, and he was heading home after talking with the Farwood Duke and Duchess on tea for that Saturday - they were expecting a wonderful baby boy, Jonathan. Their alliance was very strong, and the two kingdoms were very good friends - Daniel liked the still calmness of Lady Valentine. She was the type of person who radiated power and yet never seemed to need to enforce that power.

As Daniel looked out the window, he saw a crowd of angry people as the guards tried desperately to calm them down and keep things from becoming too heated.

A rebellion had stirred, restless in Salkenshire. Many did not want an alliance with Farwood - wounds from the war between them still hadn’t completely healed. The war had been gruesome, and many casualties weren’t forgotten. Many of the people still considered them traitors.

The carriage had come to a sudden halt, leaving Daniel pretty confused. Royal carriages don’t stop very easily, or for very many reasons, either. “Franklin? Is everything all right?”

The sudden jolt forward made the royal stumble backwards, tossing him back in his seat harshly. The carriage moved much faster than previous brisk trot, and made Daniel fly all around the carriage as they turned in many different directions.

Something was most definitely wrong.

Suddenly, a stranger opened the carriage door, brandishing a dagger. Daniel didn’t need to even think as he punched the attacker in the nose. So this was the trouble.

The attacker, now bleeding heavily from his nostrils, kicked Daniel square in the face as he fell back on the floor of the ride. His crown knocked off, Daniel slowly slid it under the seats for safekeeping as he rolled up his sleeves - time to do some dirty work. The attacker landed with a thump inside the carriage, standing over the royal with a grin as Daniel, with a determined look, kicked the attacker firmly between the legs, sending him toward the ground. He quickly restrained the attacker pushing his restrained arms toward his shoulder blades on instinct.

“So this was your plan, huh? Hijack a carriage and kill the crowned Prince?!” Daniel yelled. “For what? To stop the alliance?!”

The attacker squirmed against the Prince’s strong grip. “Not…enough…exactly, your Highness… but… ugh…. Basically.”

“Not exactly…?” Daniel asked. “What do you mean?”

He hadn’t noticed the second attacker until he felt the blade up to his throat. Time seemed to slow, and he couldn’t breathe. “Alex, you pissbrain. I told you he was trained.” Daniel gulped as the knife pressed harder to his neck. “I suggest you let him go, your highness, or things are going to get ugly.”

Daniel slowly let go of his grip, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. “What now? You kill me?”

The second attacker gave a deep chuckle.

“Now, your highness? You enjoy the ride.”

As quickly as they came, the two jumped out and rolled quickly down into the dirt. Before Daniel could even piece together what they had meant… his eyes widened.

That’s when Daniel saw the ravine.

Next? Darkness.

—————————-

The first thing Daniel remembered was the pain. It was numbing at first, almost bearable, like a small cut or scuffed knee. Then, he remembered how his head pounded like a drum, and he could hear his heart beat loudly in his ears. He felt a weight press down in his stomach, and then the sting of his legs. His face felt hot, like it was on fire.

He remembered opening his eyes and seeing white, thinking he was dead. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the carnage - blood and intestines, skin and bone - splattered all around him. He was trapped nearly drowning under a pile of rocks, the only survivor.

The first thing he wanted to do was throw up. Whether it was because of what he had seen, or because of his own injuries, he didn’t know. The second thing he tried was to move, but it seemed the more he did the more pain he felt swirling in his mind. He tried screaming, but he had no air to call for any help, only to sustain himself.

The first few nights were the hardest. Daniel couldn’t even say it was a few nights - he’d blurred in and out of consciousness while the sun beat down on him, making him crave water and even more so, food.

After a week he felt tired, and weakened. He could even start to feel his body slowly begin to shut down. He thought everyone thought he was dead - after all, it was a miracle he’d survived the fall in the first place, and very unlikely anyone would think it would even be possible.

Daniel was sure no one was coming for him.

So, one couldn’t blame him for thinking it a mirage when he thought he saw a group of knights and guards climbing down the ravine. Even as his mind told him it was a dream, Daniel pulled out his bloodied hand and waved it with all the energy he had left. His world slowly began to fade as the sounds of moving rubble echoed in the distance.

————————

Benjamin was known for a lot of things. He was known for his stance on the Farwoodian War, which had made him an orphan at 12. He was known for his strict coldness toward everyone, no matter the status.

That is, except, his husband.

Daniel had been known to be one of the most gorgeous people in his kingdom, and he was determined to wed him - just to look at his smile, to drag his fingers through his perfect hair, and to own his chiseled body.

Benjamin was good at getting people to do as he wanted. All it had taken was a few love poems and Daniel was head over heels for the royal. Benjamin was a very good actor when the situation called for it, and had all the pieces fall into place so Daniel could be his complaisant husband, and his eye candy. All that was needed was a bit of romance to ensure his pet wouldn’t stray too far from the flock, and he was set.

Of course, when the King had gotten word of the accident on their anniversary, he had acted sick with grief. His heart didn’t feel very broken, instead feeling a mighty rage that Daniel had wasted all his preparations for the perfect night - he had practiced his lines for weeks, after all.

His servants and allies had given him great sympathy. The palace was filled with sweets and gifts from all who knew him.

Benjamin had given the order to search for Daniel’s remains around a week after the news. He was sad to see his pet go, but he had a replacement waiting in the wings when the time was right - he was young, hot, and the foreigner duchess’s son from Monasia. He was perfect. All that was needed was for the funeral arrangements to be made and the funeral held, and then his new husband could finally move in. He had to admit - he needed someone to look at.

What Benjamin didn’t expect, however, was for the knights to bring back his husband alive.

He had been so happy - his eye candy had returned, after all. The healer had done all she could, but couldn’t get rid of the scarring across Daniel’s face, nor the blindness on his left eye. His husband’s beauty turned utterly bland, and left the King extremely displeased. He couldn’t handle having to live the rest of his life without a husband as handsome and as worthy as himself, but he couldn’t ever act that way.

After all, a King is only as ever powerful as his people.

Daniel had been overjoyed to be alive and with his love, the one who loved him more than anything in the entire world. He rarely left Benjamin’s side, and Benjamin could admit it was getting annoying - the looks he sent his way weren’t the same without the sun kissed glow or the honey glow of his eyes. Everything Daniel did before only angered him from seeing that fat scar each time and fake a smile.

He was… in a bit of a situation. Nonetheless, Benjamin would find a way to get rid of him, one way or another.

—————————

Daniel had never been this angry in his entire life. He’d never felt so betrayed, so upset, so devastatingly sad. He clutched the bundle of letters tightly as he burst open the doors, getting his husband to look up from the work on his desk with a glance and a sickeningly sweet smile. “My dear, what angers you so? It pains me to see you so upset.”

“Benjamin J. Shawcross, you have a lot of explaining to do.” Daniel spat, throwing the letters on his lover’s desk. Benjamin just looked at the letters, still retaining his smile. “Excuse me, but could you please leave me and my husband alone for a moment? We have some… private matters to discuss.”

The council members and handmaidens quickly took their leave after they saw Daniel’s expression. The kingdom had never seen it’s highness get angry before, and it was more than a frightening sight.

After the double doors were firmly shut, Benjamin just laid his head in his hands. “So, you found the letters.”

“Is that all you have to say, Ben?!” Daniel yelled. “You’re cheating on me, and that’s all you have to say?!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, dear. He’s only a friend.” The King said cooly.

“Friend? A friend who you ask to describe his ‘beauty’? Who you call your ‘honeybee’?” Daniel snapped.

“If you’re going to overreact this much, I want a divorce.”

Daniel looked like he was slapped. “Excuse me? Why?”

“It’s clear that you don’t trust me and think that I would cheat on you, so-”

“Honey, I’m half-blind and I can see the evidence right in front of you!” Daniel yelled. “I have done nothing but be by your side and support you for over 25 years, and you-” Daniel looked to the side, crossing his arms, too angry to even finish the sentence.

“You know, you’d think after 25 years your husband would learn to trust you-”

“Bull. Shit.” Daniel interrupted. “I trusted you, I LOVED you, you liar-!”

“Now my lovely husband wants to accuse me of lying?” Benjamin looked shocked. All this did was anger the Prince more - he was blaming all this on HIM?!

“I’m no husband of yours.” Daniel hissed. “Did you even mean everything you said at the altar? Did you even mean all the kisses, all the talks, everything?!” Daniel yelled, exasperated, the pain so great it stung in an unfamiliar way. What did he ever do to deserve this? Why wasn’t he enough?!

“Of course, my sweet, I meant every moment I had with you.” Benjamin cooed, walking over to his husband and holding him close. “You seem so upset, my love.” His voice was like a siren’s, worming its way into Daniel’s mind and making him feel uneasy. “Did you get enough rest, my sweet?” Benjamin rubbed his husband’s arms soothingly. He knew this song and dance too well, the lovesick fool always fell for it.

Rest?

Daniel felt embarrassed at his husband’s soft tone. Was he tired? He WAS the only one yelling, was it really not that big of a deal? Maybe…

Wait. Wait, wait-

Daniel quickly pushed away Benjamin, utterly disgusted. “Get away from me.” His touch felt so uncomfortable, so caring and loving that it felt unreal. Too unreal.

It was so weird. His touch never felt uncomfortable before.

It was like the background around him was fake, and it toppled over in front of him. Fakeness clouded everything around the man he’d called his husband.

“What’s wrong dear? You look so shaken.” Benjamin looked at his husband in deceitful care.

“What’s wrong…? You lied to me, cheated on me, and manipulated me for 25 years.” Daniel looked to his husband in pure hate. “I think we’re not going to work out, Ben, and that’s putting it nicely.” Daniel stood tall, staring him down sternly. He felt as if he’d just woke up from a dream, a dream where everything was perfect because he had someone who loved him. He felt slapped, though there were no marks on his face. Even though he wanted so badly to go back to his perfect fantasy world, it would feel tainted and poisoned with chains of control. Control that Daniel wanted back.

Now, Benjamin’s face turned quickly into a chillingly cold grin, as he looked at his husband and laughed deeply. Daniel had never heard him laugh before - it made his entire body tense just at the sound. “You’re smarter than you look, you know.” The king stood in front of his prince, radiating power. “In all the years I’ve been with you, I never thought you’d figure it out.”

“What…?” Daniel breathed, feeling like he was in a nightmare.

“Oh, let me tell you honey, you were hot back in the day. Beautiful enough to have anything and everything your little heart desired. We were both alike in that way, it seemed. What I wanted, dear… what I wanted was you. You were everything I deserved - the most gorgeous person in the kingdom as my husband.” Daniel glared down at his husband, trying to stay composed. “I’d figured that when you got older, I’d have to stage an accident to bring in some fresh meat, but those protesters had given me the right opportunity.” Ben smiled, his hands behind his back as his gaze turned ice cold. “But then you had to go and ruin it by surviving that fall - a miracle indeed, dear. That’s why you need to go.”

“Go…?”

“I’ll have the divorce papers on your desk by tomorrow morning.” The King said, turning to go back to his desk and finish his papers.

“Wait, I… I don’t-” Daniel turned him around. “If we’re getting a damn divorce, at least give me the decency if telling me why.”

“Why?” The King almost laughed. “You haven’t put it together already dear?” Benjamin grabbed him close and traced his finger along his scar, pushing enough so that Daniel had felt it. “I don’t want damaged goods.” Daniel’s breath hitched at the touch, before his husband had dumped him on the floor. “You’re to grab your things, sign those papers, and leave. I don’t want to see your ugly mutt for as long as I live. Now, shoo.”

Shoo?

Daniel stood and marched over to his desk, slamming his hands on it to grab his attention. “You listen here and you listen good, asshole. You may have been able to order me around like I was your pet for a long time, but I’m not your pet anymore. You think that you can just get rid of me like that, all because of a scar you just can’t bear to see?!” He got up close to his face, practically spitting the next words. “No. Effing. Way.”

—————

Taglist (general people who seemed excited for the update - tell me if you want to be taken off!):

@aphandgflover, @ollyollyoxinfree, @daring-elm

#sanders sides six au #six au #sander sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au

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sonicrainicorn · 4 years

Text

Only Us (Part 2)

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 10459 Desc.: Thomas and Logan have always been close. From the moment Logan was born, Thomas swore he’d do anything for his baby brother. Unfortunately, it was a promise to be taken to the extremes. (First part here) TW: Character death (mentioned), anxiety attacks, attempted rape/non-con (mentioned), relationship abuse, there is also exactly one (1) swear word

I’m actually a little sorry for this one.

///

It must have been a day after the funeral. Logan was in his room, laying stomach down on his bed with his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to do anything. Thomas was in the kitchen making cookies from scratch. Unlike Logan, he needed to do something. And then there was a knock at the door.

Logan didn’t think much about it at first. Yeah, it was a little weird, but maybe it was important mail or someone who tries to sell stuff. That happened sometimes.

He heard Thomas open the door and... let that person in. Okay. That didn’t normally happen. Still, it might not have been important. Maybe. Yeah, okay, Logan was curious now. He rolled out of bed and shuffled to his door.

There was a deep voice coming from the other side that he didn’t recognize. He didn’t focus on the words at the moment, he was more focused on the voice and the millions of questions it gave him. Who was it? Why were they here? What could they possibly want?

He tried to be as silent as possible as he snuck out the door. He didn’t want anyone hearing him for fear that they may stop talking. He learned recently that adults stop talking about important things when they see that a kid is nearby. But he wanted to know those important things. He peeked down the hall.

Thomas sat with a man at the dining table. The man wore nice clothes, but nothing that could be considered fancy. He looked serious, though. Thomas didn’t seem too happy about what he had to say. And then Logan heard the words “emergency foster care”. This man was a social worker.

Their mother had no siblings. There were no aunts or uncles or cousins to take them in. Her parents died before either of the boys had a chance to know them. There was no one to fall back on.

He and Thomas were going into foster care.

“We’ll try to be contacting your father as soon as possible,” the man explained. “But until then, you will have to be placed with an emergency foster family.”

“No,” Thomas said, borderline indignant. “I can take care of Logan myself. I-I helped raise him. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry, but this is how it has to go. You two have to be cared for by a legal adult.”

“I’m going to be a legal adult. I turn eighteen next week.”

“And when that week comes you get to see him as much as you wish.”

Logan didn’t want to hear this anymore. He may have been young, but he knew what was going to happen. They were going to separate him and Thomas. The likelihood of someone wanting to take care of two teenage boys was slim. And when Thomas turned eighteen, he’d be free to leave. But Logan would be stuck. They wouldn’t see Thomas as a suitable guardian. He had no job -- no source of income. He was still in high school.

Going over all the facts made Logan feel... something. He felt his chest tighten and his legs go weak. There was a pressure pushing down on him, making everything seem too small. He needed to get out -- he needed to stop hearing this.

He ran back to his room and shut the door. He dove under the covers of his bed like a scared little kid. Maybe that’s what he was. All he was was a scared little kid who cried at things he couldn’t stand up to. Who froze up and ran away when he heard things he didn’t like.

He tried to wrap the blanket tighter around himself to drown out his thoughts. They were too loud. He couldn’t breathe. It was like his lungs forgot how to expand and contract on their own. They were doing too much of one and not the other, and he couldn’t focus enough to fix it. He knew he had to fix it, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. It was too much -- everything was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand it. It was too much. He couldn’t do it.

“Logan?”

That was Thomas. Focus on Thomas. Answer Thomas.

He couldn’t answer Thomas.

The edge of the bed dipped. “Logan -- hey -- I need you to listen to me, alright?” His voice was gentle. “Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight.”

Logan tried to follow the steps -- he tried so hard. He couldn’t do it. He was choking. “I -- I --” A sob escaped his lips instead of coherent words.

“Alright. We’re gonna try something else, okay? Focus on me, Logan. I know you can do this. You know your room, right? What are five things you can touch?”

Logan knew one. “B-blanket.” Associate. “Bed.” Keep going. “P-pillow.” He kept track with his fingers. Using his brain was too hard. “Sheets.” He stretched out his arm to where he assumed Thomas was. “You.”

Thomas held Logan’s searching hand. “That’s good. You’re doing great. What are four things you can see?”

He peeked his head over his blanket cocoon. “Wall.” Expand. “P-poster.” Elaborate. “Th-the Doctor Who one. And the Winnie th-the Pooh one.” One more, “You.”

Thomas smiled. It erased the concern on his face for a brief second. “Three things you can hear.”

“My breathing.” It wasn’t as heavy anymore, though still a bit ragged. “My alarm clock -- but only in the morning.” It was easier to think -- to talk. “And your voice.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“The cookies in the oven.” Things were better. “The flour you dropped on your shirt.”

Thomas glanced down at the rather large white patch clinging to the front of his shirt. “That’s kind of embarrassing... Anyway, one thing you can taste.”

“Nothing that would be sanitary.”

Thomas chuckled. “That’s a safe answer.” He squeezed Logan’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Not like I’m dying.” He sat up. His limbs were wobbly. “How did you know how to do that?”

He shrugged. “You learn a thing or two when you get older.”

Fair enough, Logan supposed. He crawled closer to Thomas and put his head on his arm. It felt better to be near him. “What’s going to happen now?”

Thomas sighed. “We’re going to have to leave.”

“Right now?”

He didn’t say anything, but that was an answer in itself.

“Oh.”

He squeezed Logan’s hand again. “I’ll help you pack.”

They were allowed to bring whatever they could carry. Their social worker didn’t help. He made it seem like they needed to leave as fast as possible. Logan didn’t want to leave at all. But they left. It wasn’t until the house was fading from view that he realized Cara’s guitar was still in his closet.

~~~

Their emergency foster family was nice enough, but Logan was more glad about getting to stay with Thomas longer. It was an older man and woman. There were pictures of them with two kids. A boy and a girl. Logan assumed it was their children. He noticed a newer picture of the girl in a college graduation gown. There was another one with the boy in a suit and a woman next to him wearing white. He didn’t know why they’d want to be foster parents when they had their own kids -- emergency foster parents no less. A position where you get traumatized kids dropped off at your doorstep under short notice.

But they were nice. They let Logan and Thomas be alone in their room. And that was another thing Logan was glad for. Sharing a room. He didn’t think he’d be able to be apart from Thomas.

They sat on a bed together, not saying much at first. It was a rough month.

Logan had The Phantom Tollbooth clutched tightly to his chest. He was afraid to put it down. He didn’t want to forget it like another important item of his. “I left my guitar behind,” he muttered after the long stretch of silence.

Thomas paused. “I’m sure we’ll get it back.”

Logan didn’t know how to respond.

“Do you wanna see something?” Thomas asked with a small smile.

“Sure.”

Thomas hopped off the bed. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a large photo album.

Logan couldn’t stop the grin growing on his face. “You brought the photo album?”

He shrugged. “I just felt like I needed to grab something.” He sat back on the bed. The album was meant to mimic a thick book. It was dark blue and squishy with the edges being worn down from use. It was mostly baby pictures of both boys, which made it their mother’s favorite album. There were other pictures, but mainly baby pictures. “Wanna look through it?”

“Yeah, I like making fun of you.”

Thomas scoffed. “Whatever. Don’t act like you don’t have any embarrassing pictures in here.” He flipped it open to the first page.

The very first picture was of Thomas and their mother. She sat in a hospital bed with her newborn in her arms, smiling softly at the camera. She looked a lot younger here. Like the same age as Thomas and his friends. It made Logan realize that he didn’t actually know how old his mother was when she was first pregnant. He never noticed how much younger she looked compared to other mothers.

“She looks like a kid,” Logan couldn’t help but mutter.

Thomas frowned a bit, eyes glued on her face. “She was.” But he didn’t elaborate.

Regardless, the first few pages of the album were of Thomas. Their mother would pop up every once in a while with a large smile that made Logan’s heart ache, but it mainly focused on Thomas. There was his birthdays, his first day of school, him just being a little kid. And then there was another picture taken in a hospital. A story frozen in time.

Thomas sat on the hospital bed next to his mother, hanging close to her arm. They both smiled down at the little bundle she held. A newborn Logan. They gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“I forgot how tiny you were,” Thomas commented with a hint of amusement.

“I’m still tiny,” Logan replied bitterly. He was one of the shortest kids in his grade. Cara was half a head taller than him.

“Well, when you were a baby you were a lot smaller than you should have been.”

“I was?”

“You were born a few weeks early.”

“I was?”

Thomas laughed a bit at the repeated phrase in the exact same cadence. “Yeah. But maybe you just got stuck with the short genes. You were a healthy size by the time you were one.”

Oh, lame. He was going to be short forever.

“I guess we won’t know for sure until you’re all grown up.”

That was less lame.

Thomas turned the page. His hand froze on it. There was a picture of their dad. It was one of the only ones Logan had ever seen of him; he smiled at the camera with Thomas in his lap. It was a small, polite smile. It wasn’t a large grin like their mother’s. Or a radiant beam like Thomas’s. It was subdued. It didn’t bring as much joy with it. Logan wondered if that’s what he always smiled like, or if that was something he did for pictures.

“Do you think he’ll take us in?” Logan brought himself to ask.

“I don’t know.” He turned the page.

On the fourth day, they finally had a permanent solution. They had a new social worker come in — a woman named Miss Janelle Wilton — to tell them that their father gave up legal custody. He didn’t want anything to do with them. The only thing to do now was put them into foster care.

And once again Logan found himself not understanding. He never had a dad before. He wasn’t familiar with the concept. But weren’t dads… supposed to want their children? Why didn’t their father want them? He noticed Thomas get angry at the news. Thomas was rarely ever angry. But the moment he heard that their dad gave up on them, he could barely restrain his fury.

They were going to be placed with foster families tomorrow.

Families.

More than one.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Wilton said. She seemed genuine about it. “We were unable to find a household willing to take both of you.”

Even though Logan knew that would happen, it still hurt to hear. This would be his last night with Thomas. Maybe ever. And he didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t believe him,” Thomas exploded as soon as they were alone in their room. It startled Logan. “He didn’t even want to try.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. He had never seen Thomas so angry before. He didn’t want him to be angry, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better. Unlike him, Thomas knew what it was like to have a dad. He knew how dads were supposed to be. Apparently, dads were supposed to try.

Thomas began to pace the length of the room, clearly doing it in an attempt to cool off.

Logan crawled onto his temporary bed and watched him. He still didn’t know what to do. He ran his thumb along the spine of the book in his arms. “Did you think that he would?” He got himself to speak at last.

“I don’t know — maybe. I hoped…” He sighed. “I wanted to believe there was at least something good in him.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He paused, eyeing Logan briefly as some of his anger escaped. “I —” He sighed again — “I never told Mom about it, but I ran into Dad last year.” He ignored the wide-eyed look Logan gave him. “Honestly, he seemed more surprised to see me than I was to see him. I had no idea why. It wasn’t as if I expected him to be there, either.” He crossed his arms, his anger reigniting. “I was out with Valerie and Terrence — not exactly a witch hunt — yet he acted as if there was a reason I was there. Evidently, he didn’t want the kid he left ruining his date.”

Logan caught onto the bitterness in his words but decided not to comment.

“I tried to be nice to him. I tried to see the best in him. He's my dad so he had to at least be nice. But then he told me why he left. And it was stupid and selfish, and it was all because —" He cut himself off, catching sight of Logan. And his face softened a bit.

He tightened his hold on his book. "Because what?"

His face softened further, and he sighed yet again, his anger going out with it. "It doesn't matter." He sat beside Logan. "It was a dumb reason, anyway."

"Well, I don't think there's a smart reason to run away from your kids and wife."

Thomas snorted. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Later that night, neither of them could sleep. Dread hung in the air between them. The knowledge that they would be separated tomorrow stung with a bitter, almost palpable taste. Rather than stew in it alone, Logan decided to slip out of his bed and into Thomas's. Thomas turned his head to look at him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re just a baby boy,” his voice tapered off into the ‘I’m-talking-to-someone-way-younger-than-me’ tone — which Logan always loathed. And Thomas knew this. He only ever did it to be annoying. To add to this, he kept cooing about his baby brother. Referring to Logan directly as his baby or little brother was another thing he did to be annoying. He wrapped his arms around Logan and squeezed him tight, continuing his baby talk.

“Noo,” Logan whined. He tried to wriggle out but found he had no room. It didn’t help that he still had his book between his arms. On instinct, he almost called out for his mom for assistance, but instead he said, “Stop it. I’ll bite you.”

Thomas sighed as if it was the most ridiculous quest to befall him. “Fine.” But he didn’t let go. Logan decided not to comment on this. “You know,” he started softly after a moment, “whatever happens tomorrow, I’ll make sure to find my way back to you.”

Rather than risk bursting into tears coming up with a response, Logan buried his face into the crook of Thomas’s neck. He didn’t want to leave. Thomas was all he had left. After that, what else could anyone take from him? The few possessions he was able to grab before he left the house? What did those things mean in the end? He didn’t want things he wanted people. He could lose everything he ever owned, but as long as he had Cara, or his mom, or Thomas, then it didn’t matter. But that wasn’t his circumstance.

“Are you holding something?”

They both moved away enough for Logan to show his book. “I don’t wanna put it down,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Did you want to read it?”

“Um…”

“Or do you want me to read it?”

He nodded and handed the book over.

Thomas turned on the lamp beside the bed. He positioned himself so that Logan was still close, but he was able to hold the book with both hands. “‘There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself — not just sometimes, but always.’”

~~~

Before Logan left, he grabbed a photo from the photo album. He did it when Thomas wasn’t looking. Like it was some secret. But he didn’t want to be told he couldn’t take one or be judged on what he decided to take. He took the first picture he saw. Thomas’s fourth birthday. They were sitting at the dining table. Thomas was on his mother’s lap with his usual wide smile. She had her chin resting on the top of his head with sparkling eyes. The cake was decorated with blue frosting and topped with a number four candle.

He put it in his book.

He didn’t talk the whole way to his foster family. He didn’t even talk when he got there. There was no amount of coercing or gentle words that would get him to open his mouth. He just held his book close to his chest and kept his eyes cast on the ground. They left him alone soon enough. Not that it mattered.

His room was small. Light peach walls empty of any personality. Logan supposed he was meant to fix that, but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t want to get comfortable here. He didn’t want to stay. He wanted to be home. He wanted Thomas. He wanted his mom.

But there was nothing to be done about that.

When April 24th came around, Logan felt absolutely miserable. He was alone. He wanted his mom. He wanted to see his brother. It was Thomas's eighteenth birthday. His mom said eighteenth birthdays were special. It was meant to be special, but now they weren’t even together. He wondered if Thomas was doing okay. Was he at least having a good birthday?

Logan rolled on his side and stared at the empty wall. "Happy birthday," he whispered. The first words he said since being separated. And no one was there to hear them.

On the other side of town, Thomas laid in bed, absolutely miserable. His foster parents asked if he wanted to celebrate his birthday, which was nice, but he declined the offer. He didn't want anything to do with his birthday. This would be the first birthday without his mom's homemade cake. The first birthday without Logan jumping on his bed to wake him up in the morning because "it's your birthday, you gotta be up early!".

He missed them.

He regretted taking those little things for granted. He'd do anything to hear Logan run down the hall and burst through his door, interrupting his sleep. He wanted more than anything to see his mom act like her cake was still a surprise even though he always got the same one for seventeen straight years. But he didn't have that. He was alone.

~~~

Two years.

Logan stayed in the foster care system for two years. During that period, he had been forced to move houses a few times. Not as much as other kids, he was sure, but more than twice was still a lot. Many families were nice. Others not so much. The people that weren’t as nice were the ones that got rid of him the fastest. They told Miss Wilton he was a problem child. He was difficult to deal with.

Well, Logan didn’t know what they expected. He had his family ripped away from him. It wasn’t as if he was going to get over that with their faux generosity. Besides, all he did was not talk. Apparently, adults didn’t like that.

Miss Wilton soon came to realize that Logan wasn’t the problem. Anytime someone complained after her discovery, she would give the foster family a fake sweet smile and apologize on Logan’s behalf, then be on her way with Logan in tow. Logan noticed that she gave a lot of adults fake smiles. Her real smiles she gave to Logan and other kids.

She could also be snarky, so Logan ended up liking her.

The last family she found for him he stayed with the longest. They were more understanding than the others, which was a relief. But those last few months were filled with something a bit more important.

Thomas was trying to get legal guardianship.

It was tough and long, and Logan had never been so impatient in his life. Miss Wilton took him to the final court decision. And he almost cried right then and there. He saw Valerie and Terrence. Familiar faces that he hadn't seen in two years. Faces that followed him through his childhood. He didn't realize how much he missed them.

And then he saw Thomas. They stared at each other with wide, unbelieving eyes. Thomas smiled. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. Logan was reminded of home.

After that, the day was a blur. He remembered it being stressful. Of course it was. Strangers were deciding his future. Adults he didn’t know were choosing if he got to stay with Thomas or not. Putting it that way made it seem so silly. Thomas was his brother. Why shouldn’t they be able to live together? They’ve been together his whole life. It wouldn’t have been fair to come to any other decision.

Thankfully, whatever deity had forced them into this situation decided to side with them that day.

Miss Wilton showed genuine excitement and relief at the brothers being together again. She was happy that their permanent home would be with each other. Because she was happy, Logan knew he should have been happy too, but he just… couldn’t believe it. Not yet. Since the moment Cara left, his entire life had been going downhill. There was no way it would pick up now. He was half convinced the universe would pull a mean trick and he’d be ripped away from Thomas again.

But nothing like that happened. Miss Wilton helped Logan pack his things and took him to Thomas’s place. It was surreal to hear that Thomas had his own apartment. When last they left each other, Thomas hadn’t even begun to consider moving out.

When they got there, Miss Wilton explained some things that Logan tuned out. He caught a snippet about someone coming to check on them sometime soon, and maybe she said something about Logan, but he didn’t pay attention. He was too busy gazing around the room. There were a few things he recognized from the house — the couch, the dining table, the TV, the pictures — and he wondered what else had made it. Logically, he knew not everything could fit in here, but part of him still hoped. He liked being surrounded by familiarity.

Not long after, Miss Wilton said her final goodbye. Logan was sort of sad about it. She had been a constant presence in his life for two whole years. But he assumed her saying goodbye was a good thing. It meant that he had a permanent home to stay in.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Miss Wilton said before she left for good. “But I hope we never see each other again.”

Logan agreed.

She gave him one last, genuine smile. Then she left.

“She seemed nice,” Thomas said after a moment.

It then occurred to Logan that Thomas didn’t spend as much time with her as he did. To respond, Logan simply nodded.

There was a slight twitch of a frown at the nonverbal response, but he masked it with a smile. “Well, come on. Let me show you to your room.”

Logan trailed after him without a word.

Thomas talked for both of them on the short way there. He mentioned how he tried to get as much stuff from the house as possible, but he couldn’t get everything. That didn’t mean he didn’t try, though. “Valerie and Terrence helped out a lot. Oh — and Joan. They’re a co-worker of mine and they live a few apartments down. I’m sure they’d love to meet you — well — after you get settled.” He opened one of the doors.

One of the first things Logan saw almost made him drop his book. Cara’s guitar. It was resting on his bed, waiting for him. Before he rushed over to it, he decided to look around. It was almost like he never had to leave. His posters were on the walls, his little bookcase was there — even his bed sheets were the same. He dropped his book on his nightstand, finally feeling safe enough to let it go, and he opened the guitar case. It looked the same as when he left it.

That’s when reality started to sink in.

This was real. Logan was here with Thomas. He was allowed to stay here. There wouldn’t be any more strangers he had to live with. There wouldn’t be anymore wishing — begging — every night for Thomas to come back like he promised, hoping he hadn’t been forgotten or left behind. This was real. And he was here. Thomas didn’t break his promise at all. He found his way back.

Without realizing it, Logan started crying. He was home. He ran to Thomas and hugged him. They almost crashed to the ground from the sheer force, but Thomas was able to keep them upright. “I missed you,” he said at last. “I missed you so much.”

Thomas hugged him back, holding him close. “I missed you, too.”

~~~

Despite being together, things were still difficult. Money-wise at least. Thomas wondered how the hell his mom ran a house with three people when he had a hard enough time in an apartment with two. She must have been magic. Or maybe Thomas just sucked.

He tried his best, really, but that didn’t make things easier. Sometimes things were difficult to overcome despite a positive attitude. Everything costed money. And that was the worst. He had to pay for food, clothes, gas, rent — and that was just the basics. That didn’t count the school supplies Logan needed, or the phone bills, or the cable bills, or all the other bills that seemed to exist.

There wasn’t ever much spare money lying around. Almost everything Thomas earned went to pay for something. He didn’t have much to save, and that didn’t seem like it would change anytime soon.

He tried not to let Logan know how stressful this all was. The poor kid had been through so much already, he didn’t need to worry about his older brother. He didn’t like to think of it as lying, but he sort of… stretched… the truth. A little bit. Enough to be believable. Logan was a smart kid. He’d figure it out if things started to not add up.

So Thomas never let it get to that point. Did he have to get two jobs? Yes. Was he unable to work anywhere better because he only had a high school diploma? Yes. Did he know that having a higher education would get him a better job? Yes. Was he going to punch the next person in the throat who said that to him? Probably. He wanted to scream that he couldn’t afford to get a dang higher education because he had to raise his brother and put a roof over his head. There wasn’t enough freaking time in the day to earn money and go to school.

But he didn’t do that. He held his tongue and thanked that person for such wonderful advice that a million other people have said before.

People sucked sometimes.

Regardless, Thomas did the same things he always did. He took Logan to school, he went to work, he cooked dinner, he went to work again, then he slept. Interlaced, of course, was paying for things that needed to be paid whenever it was needed. One day, he noticed something. It was a small thing; he would have missed it if he wasn't paying attention.

"Logan, are you having trouble seeing?" They were stopped at a light on their way to Logan's school. It was way early, and he was super tired, but this seemed kind of important.

"Uh…" Logan stopped squinting out the window. "No."

That wasn't believable, but he dropped the subject for the time being. It wasn’t until later that night that he decided to push it.

“Hey, bear,” Thomas called from the kitchen. He grabbed two identical boxes of noodles out of the cupboard. From far enough away, they were hard to tell apart. Thomas sometimes mixed them up at a glance. “What kind of pasta do you want?” He stood at the doorway and presented the boxes.

Logan, who had been sitting cross-legged on the couch doing homework, looked up and immediately grimaced. “Um… the one on the right.”

“Which one is that?”

“Uh —” Thomas could tell he was trying not to squint — “the good one.”

Thomas lowered the boxes with a frown. “You can’t see it, can you?”

“I can see it. Just… it’s a little blurry.”

“How much is a little?”

Logan hesitated, tapping his pencil on his notebook. “I can make out the shapes but I can’t read it.”

Thomas frowned further. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He focused on the papers before him. “You’re always so busy, and I know money gets tight sometimes, so I figured if I didn’t tell you it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that.” Thomas sat beside him. “I’m the adult here and it’s my responsibility. We have insurance for a reason, you big goof.” He threw his arm around him and pulled him in for a side hug. “Next time something’s wrong or you have a problem, tell me, okay?”

Logan gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

~~~

A new student entered Logan’s grade near the end of the school year. Logan only found out because they shared the same English class. He thought it was unlucky to join a new school so late in the year, but that wasn’t any of his business. Not like the new kid would care about his opinion anyway.

Unfortunately, the teacher decided to sit the new student beside him — even though there were two other seats available. Logan cursed his bad luck and kept his head down. He didn’t want to interact with anyone. Ever. He hadn’t made another friend since Cara left.

Unfortunately again, this kid didn’t care.

“Hey,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m Percival.”

~~~

So clearly Logan was gay.

Who knew.

He found and read different books on different sexualities to try to understand his confusion. He felt most comfortable identifying as gay, but the tiny section on asexuality in one of the books was always in the back of his mind. Okay, so, it was still sort of confusing, but saying he was gay felt like a good fit. At least for now.

When he mentioned it to Thomas off-hand, he said — and Logan swears he’ll never let him live this down — “Oh, shit, me too.”

It caught him so off guard that he laughed until he cried. Never, in his entire life, had he ever heard Thomas curse. And the first time he did was because they talked about being gay. Somehow that seemed very fitting.

But the tiny, little factoid that Logan left out — just a small detail — was that he and Percival were dating. Telling Thomas he was gay? Yeah, sure, easy. Telling Thomas he had a boyfriend? No. Nope. That would be a disaster. He’d probably freak out about it. In more than one way.

So that was his little secret for the time being. Until he was ready.

Well, it turned out the joke was on him because he accidentally let it slip about four months into their relationship. Like a dang fool.

He didn’t mean to. At all. But once it was out he couldn’t take it back. As predicted, Thomas freaked out. He demanded to know the details at the same time he tried to give advice. It was embarrassing and unnecessary and Logan would have preferred to sink into the earth than experience any second of this onslaught. Worst of all, Thomas wanted to meet him.

It wasn’t that he thought Percival wasn’t someone to meet his family — he was very sweet — it was just the thought of Thomas being an embarrassing older brother. Which he was. If he let them anywhere near each other he’d probably end up dying of embarrassment.

So he tried to push it off at first. It wasn’t necessary right now. Wait a little longer. But it turned out that Percival was on Thomas’s side. Logan felt betrayed.

They (well, with great reluctance on Logan’s part) settled on meeting up for lunch on the weekend. Logan insisted that Thomas bring Joan so that he could have someone to talk to in the inevitable event that Thomas started being embarrassing. He knew it would happen no matter how many times Thomas said it wouldn’t.

“Well that was fun,” Percival mentioned after the whole ordeal was over. They were by themselves now, walking through a park to Percival’s house.

Logan rolled his eyes. Predictively, Thomas had an embarrassing older brother moment. Thank God Joan was there to reel him back a bit. “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t live with him.”

Percival laughed. “Still. We should do it again sometime.”

Logan refrained from rolling his eyes again. “I’ll have to think about that.”

Then Percival stopped. He looked down at Logan with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Logan opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Percival ducked down and captured his lips.

He wanted to suck in a sharp breath of air — an automatic response of surprise — but he didn’t. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was sudden. A pressure on his mouth he wasn’t familiar with. The new, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fire, and teasing, and strawberry lemonade. And then it was over.

Percival pulled back, but their lips still brushed together when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

His chest fluttered.

~~~

Logan was sixteen when he realized something was… off. He didn’t notice where the feeling was coming from at first. Things between Thomas and him were fine. They weren’t currently struggling for money. All of Thomas’s friends were doing okay. What was left? Why did he have a bad feeling looming over his shoulder?

He wished he could have said that he pieced it together quickly. He wished he could have said he narrowed it down after going through every single option. But he didn't. He… he just didn't.

He didn't even know. It happened so subtly — like a pot heating bit by bit unbeknownst to the poor frog. Except Logan was the frog in this scenario.

He couldn't tell you what the first hint that the water was boiling was. It wasn't as easy as saying, "it started when he did this" because it all seemed okay. Everything was okay. He thought it was at least.

And then, all at once, it was very not okay.

Approaching their first year of being together, Percival wasn't as sweet anymore. Well, he was. But not all the time. Sometimes he said things that were a little too mean. Sometimes he brought up things he knew Logan was insecure about. Sometimes he didn't even seem like the same person.

But it was fine. He always apologized or made it up in some way. And Logan always forgave him. Again. And again. And again.

He felt like an idiot to not notice the pattern.

From there it only escalated. Suddenly, it felt like everything Logan did was criticized. Nothing he did was good enough or worth the effort to look at.

"Anyone can play guitar. It's easy."

Logan was inclined to agree, but coming from someone who didn't know how to play any instrument — let alone a guitar — felt belittling. It completely ignored his years of practice. Still, Logan shoved the guitar in his closet.

"Why does it matter that you won that scholarship?"

He wanted to say that Thomas was proud of him. But he didn't. Thomas was proud of anything that Logan did, though. It must not have been that impressive.

"I hate when you wear that shirt."

He kept it at the bottom of his drawer.

"Remember when you failed that math test?"

He studied every free minute he had.

"Your laugh is annoying."

He tried not to laugh again.

The first time Percival hit him was a surprise. It sort of seemed like an accident, but Logan was never sure. He wasn't sure about a lot. But even Percival seemed a little shocked after he did it. Logan wondered, if he had spoken up then, would it have ended there? Did his silence on the matter convince Percival he could get away with it? He didn't know.

It was almost two years into their relationship. He must have done something wrong.

Logan shuffled into the apartment. The place where Percival hit him the previous day started to appear a lot more visible as throughout school. To add to his bad luck, Thomas wasn't in his room. He tried to slip by but was caught before he made it to the hallway.

“Hey, Logan,” Thomas chirped. “Come here it feels like I haven't seen you all day.”

Logan hesitated. He could say he wasn't feeling well, or straight out refuse to turn around, but that wouldn't work out in the end. He couldn't hide this forever. Taking a deep, silent breath, Logan turned around.

The smile fell right off Thomas's face. “Oh, my God.” He rushed over to Logan. “Oh God, bear, what happened to you?” His hands hovered around Logan's face as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. It made Logan a little nervous.

His hands soon found their place cradling Logan's head. “What happened to your face, Logan?”

The anguished expression of his brother almost made Logan want to tell the truth. Almost. “I, uh, I fell.” That couldn't have been believable.

“Please tell me the truth, bear.” Thomas furrowed his brows in worry. “Unless you fell down some stairs, I don't think your face should look like this.”

Logan pulled himself away. “I-it's nothing. I just fell.”

“Logan —”

“I'm fine, Thomas.” He retreated to his room.

But that statement became less and less true with time. As the injury on his face changed colors to a more noticeable bruise, Logan found himself with others. The new ones were places less obvious and often hidden with articles of clothing.

All the while Logan tried to convince himself everything would be fine. Percival was a knight of the round table — a hero from Arthurian legend. But if that were true… then why did it feel so wrong to be near him? People don't flinch when the hero gets mad. People don't cower when a knight goes to see them. All the fear made Logan miss the talking. It had become subtle insults toward Logan recently, but that was better than fearing another injury.

Logan held on for a few more days. Each day he came home more tired than the last, with Thomas increasing his worry, until one day he couldn't take it.

He hauled himself through the front door. He dropped his backpack on the ground and went straight for Thomas.

Thomas was looking down at some papers but glanced up when he heard the noise. He gasped and dropped everything to be by Logan. “Are you okay?”

Logan wiped his tears and shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, bear?” Thomas tried to reach a hand out to Logan but stopped when he flinched. “What happened?”

“Percy, he — he —” Logan wrapped his arms around himself. Sobs were choking him. “I-I didn't want to do it, Thomas. I didn't w-want to. H-he tried to make me. I was scared. I-I ran away — I ran away from him.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry. P-please don't be m-mad. I'm sorry.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to do. God, he was suddenly aware of how young they both were. He didn’t have infinite wisdom or a sense of direction like a parent should. He was barely going to be twenty-one next month. Something terrible must have been going on and Thomas wasn’t equipped to handle it.

“L-Logan, hey.” Thomas kept his hands to himself. “Let’s try to calm down, alright? I’m not mad at you, kiddo, I have nothing to be mad at you for.”

“B-but I —”

“Shh, it’s okay. We can sit down and talk, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

They sat down on the couch together. Logan hugged himself like he would fall apart if he stopped and Thomas tried to get him to breathe properly. It took a bit, but they got there. At least enough to not be so alarming. Then Logan told him everything. He showed him every bruise, mentioned every bitter conversation, and even what transpired today.

“We were just talking,” Logan explained. He was no longer crying, but the effects of it still altered his voice. “Everything was fine. It felt like things had gone back to normal — he was sweet and told me nice things, but apparently, there was an ulterior motive.” He tightened his hands into fists. “He wanted… he wanted to…” He sucked in a breath. “He wanted to do something I didn’t. I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen. I, I didn’t know what else to do so I ran.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? How do you even respond to that? This was his little brother. It wasn’t happening to anyone else, it wasn’t a story he heard about someone, it was happening right here — and it was his brother. He couldn’t imagine Logan going through this that whole time. He didn’t even want to think about what caused him to run all the way home. It was all so… awful. And he felt awful about not saying anything, or noticing sooner, or —

“It’s okay.” This wasn’t about him. It was about Logan. “Sometimes the best thing to do is get out of there as fast as you can. You made a smart decision.”

“It doesn’t feel like one.” Logan curled into himself.

Thomas pushed down the sick feeling in his stomach. “It is. He wasn’t listening to you so you did the only other thing you could think of. You got somewhere safe. It’s okay to run away sometimes, Logan — especially if you’re in danger.”

Logan remained silent.

Oh, Thomas wanted to hug him so bad, but he refrained from doing so.

The next day, Percival knocked on the door and asked to see Logan. Thomas tightened his grip on the doorknob to stop from doing something he’d regret. “He’s not here,” he responded in his usual cheerful tone despite the fact his blood was boiling. “He went down to the library to grab something. Would you like to leave a message?”

Percival smiled politely. “No thanks. I think I’ll just meet him down there.”

“Sure thing.” Thomas resisted the urge to slam the door in his face.

Logan was frozen in the kitchen. The only thing separating him from the front door was a wall. He didn’t dare to even breathe until he saw Thomas in the doorway. Before either of them could think to say anything, Logan’s phone started to ring. He felt his blood run cold.

“Don’t answer it,” Thomas said softly.

He didn’t.

That wasn’t an isolated incident, as it turned out. Percival came back the next day to ask where Logan had been — claimed he was worried because his calls were going unanswered. Thomas handled it with surprising grace, having a believable lie at the ready, but it wasn’t enough. Percival kept calling and when that inevitable day came where Logan had to go back to school, he couldn’t avoid him. And Thomas wasn’t there to help.

Nothing happened besides subtle anger and vague threats. Logan knew that the only thing saving him was being in public. He knew that once school was out, that there would be little time to get away. Percival wasn’t patient. So he sent Thomas a text to pick him up right as school ended. It wasn’t as if he would say no — he was wary to let Logan go to school at all — but Logan was still scared. Thomas was already doing so much for him. He didn’t want to push the limit.

Thomas: I could get you right now

As much as that appealed to Logan, he couldn’t. He was already making Thomas miss work to pick him up after school. Having him pick him up now would just be worse. He declined the offer, insisting he was fine. For now.

Once the final bell rang, Logan was the first one out of the classroom door. He wasn’t normally one to be so eager to leave, but right now he wanted to get home as soon as possible.

A hand grabbed his shoulder once he spotted Thomas’s car. "Leaving so soon?"

Every muscle in Logan's body froze. He let Percival spin him around to see his displeased face.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he continued. "The least you can do is come over so we can catch up on lost time. I was wondering what happened to you."

"I was busy," Logan mumbled. He tried to stand his ground, but Percival was more determined than him.

"Well, you're not now. So come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Logan couldn't respond. He couldn't move away.

"Hey, Logan!"

Oh, thank Christ.

They turned to see Thomas running up to them. "We gotta help Joan set up their place for Talyn, remember?"

Logan had no idea how Thomas could lie on the spot like that despite hating lying so much.

"But Logan was just saying how he was going to stop by real quick." His fingers dug into Logan's shoulder. "Right?"

"Sorry, but this has to be done by — like — yesterday." He offered his hand out to Logan, who took it gratefully. "Maybe some other time."

Percival relented his hold. "Sure. Some other time."

Thomas flashed him a smile and dragged Logan back to his car.

Before they even got to the apartment, Thomas was already devising a plan to keep Percival far away. First thing first, Logan needed to be transferred to another school. There was no way he was spending another second of forced interaction with his abuser. Second, there needed to be a phone number change.

Logan listened to his near-ranting as they walked up to their apartment. He didn't have any input. What was there to say? This was a sucky situation from all angles.

"You'll have to stay with Valerie until this whole thing blows over."

That caught Logan's attention. Panic hijacked his senses, and words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "No! Please don't leave me somewhere. I don't want to be away from you."

"Logan —"

"Please. I, I can't be alone again. I'll do anything. Whatever you want — I'll do it."

"Oh, no, Logan —"

"Don't leave. Please. Please don't leave. How will I know when you'll be back? What if I have to get moved around again? What if you're gone for good this time and I don't see you again?"

"Logan, stop." Thomas cupped his face with his hands. Firm, but gentle. Just to get him to stop his erratic movements and focus on something. "I'm not going to abandon you, okay? I'm…" He studied Logan's face. "Alright. We'll both go to Valerie's. I'll have Joan keep an eye on the place." He wiped Logan's cheeks of the tears he didn't even notice he shed. "I'm not leaving you, bear."

For the first time in several days, Logan hugged Thomas.

~~~

“Well, since you just fell for me you should probably know my name, at least. I’m Patton.”

~~~

Logan was nineteen when he met Patton. He was nineteen when they started dating. And he had never felt… more like a kid. Patton was silly, and kind, and loved dumb puns. Whether he knew it or not, he was helping Logan unlearn everything Percival taught him. It wouldn’t be perfect. There would still be emotional scars that would never heal, but he would be able to function again. He wouldn’t start every day in fear of what would happen. Patton made things okay.

They had been dating for exactly a year when they kissed for the first time.

It was in the evening. Logan was planning on spending the night so they were in Patton’s room (Logan had to answer at least twenty different texts from Thomas to assure him that he was fine and he’d call if anything happened). It felt like sleeping over at Cara’s again; there wasn’t much of a plan to go to sleep, just to have fun. At around midnight, Patton sprung up from his spot on the floor and excitedly claimed to have an idea.

Logan didn’t even get the chance to process what happened before Patton was searching through his closet. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He pulled a box out and grabbed an even smaller box from within it. “My parents sent this to me before they found out I took in Emile and D. And, well, you know what happened after that.” He took out a globe-like projector and plugged it in before shutting off the lights.

“Patton —” the rest of his words died on his lips when Patton turned it on. Dozens of specks showed up on the ceiling. Like someone took a paintbrush and flung white paint across the room. Then he noticed that some of those specks weren’t random. They were constellations. These were stars.

“That’s a lot better than I thought it would look,” Patton laughed. He sent a grin over to Logan. “What do you think?”

Logan tore his eyes away from the ceiling. He tried to bite back a smile, but he couldn’t help it. “I think it’s wonderful.”

Patton gave him that look again. Like he mattered more than anything in the world. He did it a lot, but Logan still didn’t understand why. He continued to study Logan’s face before asking softly, “Can I kiss you?”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his chest, yet he still nodded. He practically melted when it happened.

It was gentle. A soft presence against his mouth that was different than anything before. The unique, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fresh chocolate chip cookies, and the Jabberwocky poem, and guessing the names of random dogs on the street. And then it was over.

It took Logan a second to open his eyes again.

Patton was a breath away, his eyes sparkling under the synthetic stars. “Was that too much?” He backed up a fraction more.

Logan pulled him in for another kiss.

~~~

Patton wasn’t supposed to know that Logan could play the guitar. Truth be told, he hadn’t touched it in a while. But he opened his closet to put something away, and there was the case. He didn’t think much about it; it had been in there so long already that he ignored it.

But Patton didn’t.

He spotted it and gasped so loud that Logan felt his heart shoot to his throat.

“I didn’t know you could play guitar!”

Oh crap. Logan glared at the case like it made its presence known on purpose. “Sort of.”

“Can you play something for me? Please?” He brought out his puppy eyes and kind smile. “Just one song.”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really not that good.”

“Normally, I take your word for things, but not for this. I have to hear for myself.”

Logan held back a grimace. Patton was determined. He may drop it now, but he’d bring it up another time, and another until eventually, Logan caved. “Fine.” He grabbed the case, ignoring the pang it sent to his chest at the thin layer of dust. “What do you want to hear?”

Patton resembled a puppy trying to hold in his excitement. “Something simple.”

Sure. Simple. He could do that. He sat beside Patton after taking the guitar out. It looked the same way he remembered. A bit older, and out of tune, but still the same. He almost forgot why he stopped playing it. As he placed his hands over the strings he remembered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. As his panic rose, he tried to formulate a way to back out, but then he noticed Patton giving him a patient smile.

He couldn’t tell Patton why. That could change everything.

It was just one song. He could do that. He pushed all his fear far, far down and started strumming.

Hey there, Delilah What's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away But, girl, tonight you look so pretty Yes, you do

He kept his head down the whole time. He couldn’t bring himself to look up as he noticed every single mistake he made. He half expected to be stopped when he got to the second verse, but that didn’t happen. Patton didn’t interrupt him or utter a single word. Not until he finished, at least.

“That was so good!” He clapped. “You’re amazing.”

Logan’s cheeks turned hot. “Not really. It’s just a guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Even if that were true, not everyone can play and sing at the same time.”

Well. Maybe.

Later, after Patton left, Logan saw Thomas sitting on the kitchen counter. “So I heard you serenading Patton earlier,” he muttered with a smirk around his coffee mug.

“Shut up.”

~~~

If someone told Logan that he'd end up marrying Patton, he would have been convinced they were lying. There was no way Patton would stay with him that long. Patton was wonderful, and sweet, and caring, and good, and Logan was just… Logan. There was nothing spectacular about that.

But as it turned out, Patton thought he was the most wonderful thing to grace his presence.

They did get married.

Logan couldn't believe that it happened. He was in disbelief the whole day. It didn't sink in that Patton chose him of all people until that night when they gazed up at the artificial stars on the ceiling. This was real. Patton wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He could have had anyone else but he chose Logan.

And Logan was so glad that he did.

It had been such a long time since he felt this happy.

~~~

The social worker helping them with the adoption process was Mrs. Rachel Hernandez. She was nice. She reminded Logan of Miss Wilton.

Even with the kind assistance of Mrs. Hernandez, Logan was still very nervous. And now for several reasons. The very first and obvious being he wasn't sure he'd be a good dad — actually, that was most of the reasons. Another reason, unrelated to that, was the whole process reminded him of being torn away from his brother. It was silly, he knew, but the connection was still there. Along with all the anxieties it brought.

A lot of these kids were like him; stuck in an unfortunate circumstance that they had no say in. Logan was considered a lucky one. He got to return to his family. These kids were up for adoption because they weren't as lucky. He knew how it felt to lose everything you were familiar with and be thrust into the hands of strangers.

Then one day, after months of waiting, they had a match.

"I understand you were only intending to adopt one child," she started, and Logan wondered for a moment if this was how his first foster family was talked to when the prospect of siblings came up. "But Roman has a twin brother. We'd prefer to keep them together, but if you're adamant about only one then —"

"No," Logan blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mrs. Hernandez and Patton stared at him in wide-eyed shock. He normally kept quiet during these talks unless he had to answer something. And he never rose his voice like that.

His cheeks flushed. "I mean… I would prefer to not separate any siblings."

Mrs. Hernandez turned to Patton for his opinion.

"Uh," he tore his eyes away from Logan. "Yeah. I agree with that sentiment."

After everything had been dealt with, they left the office. But when Patton sat in the driver's seat, he didn't start the car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "So…" he started casually. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Logan pretended to be interested in the parking lot.

"You know what."

Ugh, it would have been so much better to ignore it. He sighed. "When I was put in foster care, they separated me from Thomas. So I know how it feels to not have your brother with you during one of the most stressful times in your life."

There was a pause. "You never told me that."

Logan shrugged. "I didn't want you to feel any worse for me than you already did."

Patton fumbled for a response, but in the end, he couldn't seem to find one at all.

The day they met Roman and Virgil, Logan was instantly reminded of being at Miss Wilton's side all those years ago. They were hesitant — scared — and didn't say a word. Logan knew better than anybody what they must be feeling.

Maybe that was the real reason they spoke to him first.

"Daddy!" Roman marched into the living room, a tiny scowl on his face. It was a day before their eleventh birthday "Virgil touched my stuff!"

"I did not!" Virgil shouted from the bedroom.

"Then why is it missing?"

"You didn't put it away."

Logan rolled his eyes. They had a habit of yelling across the house to each other. He blamed Patton. "Roman, if you're going to argue with your brother, at least do it in the same room."

Roman huffed and crossed his arms. "My color pencils are missing and I haven't touched them."

"Where did you leave them last?"

"In the room."

Logan stood up. "Let's go look for them, then." He followed Roman back to his bedroom. He still shared with Virgil. They didn't mind it yet, but Logan had a sneaking suspicion it would start soon.

Not even two minutes in the room and Logan found the color pencils. "They're right here."

"Oh." Roman took them with a sheepish grin.

"I told you you didn't put it away." Virgil stuck his tongue out at him. "This is why I'm Daddy's favorite." To emphasize his point, he hugged Logan's side.

Roman gasped dramatically. "No you're not — I am." He dropped his color pencils and rushed to Logan's other side. "Tell him I'm your favorite."

"Well, he's not because I'm his favorite."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Daddy!" Roman tugged on Logan's shirt. "Which one of us is right?"

"Neither of you. I don't have a favorite." He smirked at their disbelieving pouts. "You're both my little beasties. It's hard to have a favorite when you're tearing up the place all the time."

They took offense to that, blaming each other for the messes they made (together) and insisting that they were the good twin and the favorite because they cleaned up. It was only interrupted by the front door opening.

Roman gasped. "Dad's home."

"I'm gonna ask him who his favorite is." Virgil took off.

"It's gonna be me!" Roman followed after him.

Logan smiled at the commotion they created.

~~~

He sat on the bed with his wedding ring clasped tightly in his hand. Angry, hot tears still rolled down his cheeks and he hated it. He wanted to stop crying. It had been hours — why was he still crying?

He unfurled his fingers. There were indents in his palm from how tight he held his ring. He wanted to throw it. Break it. Do something to it. But he knew he would never bring himself to do anything he thought of. It would only upset him later.

So he put it back on.

It didn't feel right there anymore, but he couldn't bear to lose it.

He let the tears fall even as they turned from angry to distressed. He was an idiot, wasn't he? He should have known this life was too good to be true.

He wasn't destined to have a happy ending.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #thomas sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logicality #sibling prinxiety #relationship abuse tw #toxic relationship tw #attempted rape/non-con mention #anxiety attack tw #berry done au

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bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

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Top 10 Favourite Characters

I was tagged by @not-a-natural-born-idjit and then flailed because they’re one of my absolute fave writers! (Seriously go to AO3 and read everything right now)

Rules: list your favorite character from 10 different fandoms and tag 10 people

1. Castiel | Supernatural I know I flail a lot about Dean and I love Dean’s face but Castiel is my #1. He’s fierce and brave and impatient and selfless. I don’t know how a being that’s been around for millenia can be innocent but he is. I like how messy he is, and he can be such an effective antagonist without being the big bad. Any friction he has with The Winchesters is from disagreeing on the right course of action and as viewers we can decide who to side with because both are inherently good. It’s their decisions that cause problems and that is a much more compelling narrative than “this thing is just evil.” I ship him with Dean (duh) but also Sam occasionally and I’d honestly love to see some Cas/Rowena action.

2. Hannibal Lecter | NBC Hannibal/Hannibal-verse Long before NBC decided to grace us with the absolute masterpiece that is Hannibal, I have loved this character. I think I was 14 or 15 when I fell down the Thomas Harris rabbit hole and I’ve yet to find a more perfectly crafted psychopath. He’s so refined that you really can believe that no one would suspect him of being the Chesapeake Ripper. His crimes are heinous and many without feeling sensationalized. Harris was originally a crime reporter which I think gave him the ability to ground Hannibal in reality. I really liked how the TV show fleshed out the main points that in the books Clarice Starling and Will Graham continually have to remind people of which is that he does these things to amuse himself. It was really amazing to watch him set up the dominos and then stand back to let everyone else knock them all down. I ship him with Clarice or Alaina mainly but I LOVE me some murder!husbands. It’s the slowest of burns and I will bask in those flames forever.

3. Malcolm Bright | Prodigal Son First of all Tom Payne okay. Second of all, poor, sweet damaged Malcolm. I really like that he has that rich kid air about him but it’s super subtle. He’s obviously very damaged by his father (Martin Whitley is a good example of one of those over the top “legendary” killer characters, though Michael Sheen’s performance REALLY goes a long way to making that believable) and the show doesn’t make his mental illness the forefront of his character. Malcolm works and visits his family and occasionally dates very similarly to any other main character but he’s doing all these things with severe PTSD, anxiety and depression. He’s always portrayed as upbeat and determined to push through any handicaps his mental health issues might cause. There are also times when he can’t and those are shown not by concerned family and friends banding together to throw him in a treatment center but it’s usually him, white-knuckling through it or attempting to work it out on his own which is another extremely realistic portrayal of how people deal with trauma and depression. I ship him with OFC because he and Dani have ZERO chemistry (I’m sorry Brightwell people). I like the IDEA of him and Edrissa but no one is writing it and I can’t even really get MY head around how to write it so I feel this serious urge to PUT HIM WITH SOMEBODY but there’s not been anyone on the show I’ve seen him have real chemistry with yet.

4. Tyrion Lannister | Game of Thrones I love Tyrion so much. I love him so much I named my cat after him. I loved him so much that I lived in CONSTANT. FEAR. that GRRM was going to kill him off at any moment. I like that despite everyone always thinking the worst of him he still does his best and not even with any intention of proving anyone wrong. He plays into their expectations with the booze and women but deep down he’s got a drive to be fair and especially kind to anyone who’s on the receiving end of pain and humiliation that are undeserved. He’s also fierce and clever enough to deliver crushing judgement and justice when deserved whether its through setting the wheels in motion or wielding the crossbow himself. I ship him with Sansa, shut up I know I just love the idea of them growing to love each other despite the rocky start.

5. Hermione Granger | Harry Potter HP was my first real brush with fandom. Like I’d been a Justin Timberlake fangirl since I was 12 and despite his level of fame the fandom was very small. When I started the series at 17 the breadth of content available was staggering. You could literally find ANY combination of ships you could fathom and it all ran the gamut from fluffy to downright depraved. I also find it interesting that while I like Hermione as a character in the books/movies she is far from my favorite character but she’s literally the only character I stan in the fanfic world of HP. I mainly shipped Hermione with Draco or Snape (forgive me I know it was a simpler time where we ignored everything problematic with certain kinks and narratives) and sometimes Harry. She’s such a strong female character that no matter who you pair her with the dynamic is going to be different and complex.

6. Peeta Mellark | The Hunger Games While I relate to Katniss on a very personal level, the boy with the bread absolutely fuels my little fangirl heart. The pining from a young age. The complete disregard for his own safety or survival in the games. Selfless and just good to the core, his subsequent torture by the Capitol and Katniss’ carelessness with his feelings is like taking blow after blow. And when they strip his loyalty to Katniss and his district away it’s even more tragic because he was just this sweet kid who had a crush. UGH feels. I ship him with Katniss. I just really can’t see him with anyone else.

7. Alexander Hamilton | Hamilton THIS was one where i just identify SO. HARD. with Hamilton. While I definitely didn’t endure a childhood like his, I did end up transitioning from a blue collar upbringing to a white collar career and experience the same chip on my shoulder and drive to prove myself. And I too write like I am running out of time. I ship him with his wife or maybe Angelica a little.

8. Persephone | Greek Mythology Not sure if there’s a “fandom” for this persay but Tumblr went through a phase in the early 10s where there was a ton of meta about Persephone and how her narrative as a damsel stolen by Hades didn’t do her justice. The flipped the script and made her Queen of Hell, powerful enough to sway the God of Death and terrifying enough to keep him in line unlike all the other Gods that were sticking their dick in anyone and anything. It’s such an empowering narrative, a girl taken from everything she’s ever known seizes the opportunity to become a force to be reckoned with. I love it.

9. Gregory House | House M.D. I was going to say Sherlock here but I never really went hard for Sherlock either the movies or the BBC show. I loved the show but really more for the canon and meta which is only half the fandom life. With House, I just love that he is so unapologetically hateful to anyone he deems stupid. But he’s also earnest and good too with a heavy dollop of man pain... you know... my favorite *cough*Dean Winchester*cough* I ship him pretty exclusively with Cameron beacuse I really like the dynamic. Her hero worship/white knight complex his emotional constipation but fondness of her optimism and ideals. Great dynamic.

10. Edward Cullen | Twilight This is my favorite Trash Monkey character in my favorite trash monkey series. The books are horribly written, the movies are better but not by much. But goddammit something about his level of obsessive fuckery speaks to my girl lizard brain and I am just rooting for this sparkly idiot and his clumsy human jar of mayonnaise. I ship him and Bella because apparently the universe didn’t find the fact that he’s my favorite character in this series humiliating enough.

Tagging (please don’t feel obligated to participate if you don’t want to): @navajolovesdestiel @chevrolangels @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @castielific @rauko-is-a-free-elf @astral-almighty @only4myfandoms @ charlie-bradburi @notfunnydean @blowthatpieceofjunk

#GUYS SOMEONE ACTUALLY TAGGED ME!!!#GUYS!!!#about me

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petriichvrs · 4 years

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𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘.

´ ･ . ✶ ⧼ jessica barden, demigirl, she & her & they & them / mariners apartment complex by lana del rey + short nails with dirt caught beneath them and worn out jeans with muddy patches on the knees. scuffed trainers that have seen better days ( you understand how they feel ) and a handknit jumper that is somehow still too large, with stitches pulled hither and tither. windswept red hair and a stubbornly set mouth, the kind that used to twist into the most infectious smile ; but doesn’t, now that you are the girl on fire who has seen it all and yet, not enough. in the depths of those brown eyes, flames rage, good and strong, and isn’t that the savage beauty of it all? that in spite of everything, you remain - sturdy and smelling of smoke. ⧽ ━━ hey, isn’t that GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY TWO year old pureblood WITCH is a GRYFFINDOR alumus, who has gone on to be a PROFESSIONAL CHASER FOR THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES. i’ve heard they can be quite RESILIENT & INTUITIVE, but i don’t know… they came off very HEADSTRONG & WAGGISH in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it? click HERE for ginny’s entire history ( also linked within ) & HERE for her pinterest board.

and they call us hard women, as if SURVIVAL could ever be delicate.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 !

FULL NAME: ginevra molly weasley.

MEANING OF NAME(S): an arthurian baby name meaning ‘fair one’. a name of irish origin and derived from ‘mary’, meaning ‘star of the sea’. a surname of unsure origin.

NICKNAMES: ginny.

AGE: twenty two.

BIRTHDATE: august 11th, 1998.

BIRTHPLACE: great britain.

ETHNICITY: white.

EDUCATION: homeschooled as all wizard children are, before attending hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry upon turning eleven.

JOB: chaser for the holyhead harpies.

LANGUAGES: english, french, german, spanish.

GENDER IDENTITY: demigirl.

PRONOUNS: she / her / they / them.

SEXUALITY ORIENTATION: bisexual biromantic.

𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 !

HOGWARTS HOUSE: gryffindor.

WAND TYPE: eight and a quarter inches yew with phoenix tail feather.

PATRONUS: a horse ( an ardennais stallion ).

BOGGART: tom riddle ; not lord voldemort. people often forget that ginny faced him all alone, aged eleven, and only barely lived to tell the tale.

AMORTENTIA: molly weasley’s homemade mince pies, harry potter’s preferred cologne and the smell of the quidditch pitch at hogwarts, after spring rain.

MISC. INFO: trained and registered animagus, with the ability of transforming into a ginger tabby cat.

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

FATHER: arthur weasley.

MOTHER: molly weasley neé prewett.

SIBLING(S): william, charles, percy, fred, george & ronald weasley ( older brothers ).

RELATIVES: the weasley & prewett families ( and all who have subsequently married into them ).

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none.

EX SIGNIFICANT OTHERS: harry potter & dean thomas & michael corner.

CHILDREN: none.

PET(S): arnold ( purple pygmy puff with a shocking lifespan ) & archimedes ( a screech owl ).

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 !

HEIGHT: five foot one inch.

EYE COLOR: brown.

HAIR COLOR: ginger.

SCARS: she has scars along her thighs and upon her fingertips that she doesn’t remember getting, from her second year. 'blood traitor’ on her right arm from lines she was forced to write by the carrow twins, in her sixth year. scars from the crack of a whip along her back, and scars upon her wrists and ankles from the chain bonds that filch preferred. a scar along her left cheekbone that she pairs with the gnarly one upon her knee, because both of them were sustained under the cruciatus curse. she has more scars than she can possibly remember that serve only to remind her of the war that they fought ; and she tries very hard to be proud of them, but even she finds it hard.

GLASSES / CONTACTS: no / no.

PIERCINGS: basic lobe piercings and a scaffold piercing in her right ear.

TATTOOS: a tiny snitch, stick and poke tattooed on the inside of her arm - done in her third year, it glows when the weather is perfect for quidditch.

OTHER NOTABLE TRAITS: there’s a dent on her forehead that you would only see if you were looking for it, sustained in the chamber of secrets.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

STAR SIGN: leo, the lion ( passionate, earnest, enigmatic, jealous ).

PERSONALITY TYPE: estp, the entrepreneur ( high energy, independent, reckless, bold ).

ALIGNMENT: chaotic good.

TEMPERAMENT: melancholic.

RELIGION: agnostic.

PHOBIA(S): ophidiophobia ( fear of snakes ).

VICE: anger, recklessness, impatience.

VIRTUE: confidence, passion, perseverance.

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 !

ALLERGIES: none.

SMOKING/ALCOHOL/DRUGS: sometimes, but has mostly broken the habit / socially, and regularly / no.

DIAGNOSES: post traumatic stress disorder, survivors guilt and chronic insomnia.

BLOOD TYPE: a positive.

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 !

click this link to be brought to ginny’s entire history.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 !

seventh child and only daughter of arthur and molly. first girl born into the weasley fam for GENERATIONS, so that makes her special. had too many brothers. biggest grievance was they never let her play quidditch with them, so she broke into their shed and taught herself. cried every single time they went to hogwarts without her.

eventually got there herself. her first year notoriously SUCKED.

if ‘sucked’ is a good enough word to describe being possessed by tom riddle and opening the chamber of secrets, which ultimately led to a lot of people almost dying, including herself.

this, understandably, royally fucked ginny’s shit up. easily seen by her extra special hysterical reaction to the dementors. didn’t do much in her second yr other than be upset by them on the train and be hermione granger 2.0 ( overachiever extraordinaire ).

fully supported harry potter during his fourth year, when he became the unwitting fourth champion. would have gone to the yule ball with him if she hadn’t pledged herself to neville longbottom, who goes on to become one of her best friends.

got all up in order business in her fourth year, against her parents wishes. you can take the girl from the rebellion but you can’t take the rebellion from the girl. joined dumbledore’s army. also named it. became a royal pain in umbridge’s ass. was super talented at spells ( she’s special ) that they were being taught. had a rough christmas cos her dad almost got killed by voldemort’s ugly snake. hexed draco malfoy and still giggles about it to this day. fought off death eaters in the department of mysteries and was witness to sirius black’s death.

everyone rly wanted a piece of ginny in her fifth year ( understandable ). she got invited to slug club. was also made chaser of the gryffindor quidditch team ( after playing seeker the previous year when harry was banned ). she dated harry for a hot minute after she finally got rid of dean thomas ( srry dean ), but... after dumbledore died and death eaters attacked the school he broke up with her to ‘protect her’ which... sucked.

honestly. summer in general sucked. her bro got attacked by a werewolf. her boyfriend dumped her for her own good. there was a wedding, for some reason.

sixth year also sucked. the da was reformed ( by ginny & her friends ) but could only do so much in the face of the gross misuse of power by grown ass adults. ginny did all that she could even when they were actively torturing them all, but was made go into hiding at easter.

followed her fam to hogwarts for the battle. almost had to sit the whole thing out, but ran off after she was forced to leave the room of requirement.

let’s recap the battle real quick : her brother? died. her friends? died. the love of her life? never even said goodbye and died. ginny? almost died! she did not have a good time. 0/10 stars on yelp, in fact. but they prevailed! they made harry proud! love when you succeed and get ptsd for your troubles.

ginny helped rebuild hogwarts over the summer, and went back in september to finish her seventh year, but... it wasn’t really home anymore. a war will do that. loss will do that. she was trying very hard to be okay - and in a lot of ways, trying a little too hard to be who she had ALWAYS been. she probably could have done with being told that no one expected her to be unchanged, but... everyone was going through their own stuff.

she tried to honor the one’s that they lost by living, but... that was easier on paper. ginny didn’t seem to make it all the way through the five stages of grief. she was angry, and she was sad, but she couldn’t deny it and she couldn’t change it - and acceptance was impossible. her grief turned into a persistent feeling of emptiness, and that took a toll on her, as a person.

a lot that made her happy once didn’t, anymore. she was scouted by the holyhead harpies fresh out of hogwarts, but when they asked her to sign, she didn’t immediately take them up on the offer. quidditch was about the only thing she had left at that point that brought her some measure of joy, and it felt...surreal, to be considering taking such a small pleasure and turning it into her life work. it felt not right, for some reason. doing something so ‘normal’ felt insulting, almost, to all the people who wouldn’t do anything normal again - but she couldn’t do nothing forever, and eventually, she was convinced.

she took the offer. she never looked back. things haven’t really gotten better in all the time since then, but at least they can’t get any worse.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! / talk of scars & death & trauma.

ginny’s scars tell more stories about her life at hogwarts than she has ever uttered. from her first year, she has marks that she can’t name the cause of. scarring along her thighs and upon her fingertips that were obtained in some of her black outs, that her parents BEGGED madam pomfrey to remove, but who she quietly told to not bother. there’s a small dent on her forehead that she sustained when she collapsed in the chamber of secrets, and you wouldn’t see it, if you weren’t looking. she doesn’t point it out.

of course, she sustained some in her fourth year. she fell over during a dumbledore’s army session and she scraped up the palm of her hand, something that they all laughed about, back then. she broke her ankle badly enough that it continues to click, even now, but luckily was never a hassle in her chosen career. maybe she’d have been even worse of, if bellatrix had tortured her like planned. ginny counts her blessings.

but it’s her sixth year that ruined her. that instilled within her a LOVE of long sweaters and a fear of being seen entirely naked. ‘blood traitor’ is carved into her right arm from lines she was FORCED to write with her own blood, over and over, after being caught putting graffiti on the side of green house number five. she didn’t cry, to them. she didn’t shed a tear. along her back there are criss cross scars from the CRACK of a whip, so many of them that ginny still closes her eyes when she’s getting into the bathtub, so she doesn’t catch a glimpse in the mirror. she’s been suspended by her ankles, by her wrists, and she has the taut skin there to show for it, and under one instance of the cruciatus curse, she FELL and sustained two wounds most commonly paired together in her thoughts - a scar along her left cheekbone, and a gnarly one upon her knee.

the war scarred her too. scarred her deeper. scarred her truer. she has more now than she can possibly remember that serve as a reminder to the war that they fought, together - and she tries to be proud of them. she really does. but even she finds it difficult.

ginny still keeps a bag packed and ready to go at the drop of a hat under her bed, just in case she has to run. it’s a habit instilled in her by her parents from when they went into hiding, and it’s one that she’s finding almost impossible to break. she still sleeps with her wand underneath her pillow every night, fingers curled around the wood - terrified, always, to be caught without it.

her nightmares vary, but they’re there. sometimes she wakes in a cold sweat, blinking away the MEMORY of green light that came all too close to finishing her off. sometimes, all she can see is the rotting body of her older brother and his open, vacant eyes. sometimes it’s harry, and he’s all alone, and she’s screaming at him - just screaming and crying and begging him to turn around and stop and come back, but he never does. sometimes she’s back in the dungeons of hogwarts, hanging by her ankles, and when she’s shakily sipping coffee in the morning, she can still hear the carrow twins laughter in her ears, clear as day.

she’s suffered from sleep paralysis, too, though this predates the war and began in the weeks after the chamber of secrets. her limbs too heavy to move, the demon that stands over her is tom riddle - her longest and most withstanding nightmare. she’s ashamed of the fact that though she fears she’s forgotten the exact sound of fred’s laugh or the feel of harry’s hand in hers, she’ll never be able to forget the features of sixteen year old voldemort.

ginny can throw off the cruciatus curse, now, and perhaps can even resist imperio. she’s never wanted to TRY, but after the many times it was used upon them in her sixth year.. she believes it possible.

she trained to be an animagus, more out of… boredom, than anything else. she’s registered as an orange tabby cat, and it’s not uncommon for her to run off in this form in the direction of the lake, where she can sit for hours.

ginny is bloody awful at all of the things her mother tried to teach her. knitting, cooking, general housework. she would sit for HOURS with molly in the lead up to christmas, a pair of knitting needles held awkwardly in both hands, fingers incapable of making the loops and stitches that molly is so skilled at doing, until SHE had all the christmas jumpers done… and ginny only had a rather pathetic excuse of a scarf. similarly, she tried many a time to lend a hand in the kitchen, or memorize the recipe and replicate her mothers famous homemade fudge - almost always creating some sort of inedible goop at the end of it all. she tries, god bless her, but she just doesn’t seem to have the knack that came so EASILY to molly, and years ago after a particularly disastrous attempt at knitting the weasley family matching jumpers that ended with tears all around, ginny gave up that particular hobby.

she can garden, though. BOY can she garden. neville taught her how to take care of plants she thought were beautiful, and when she moved into her little bedsit, ginny pulled up the entire garden in her allotment - redoing it in her image. she spends hours out there, knee deep in mud, hands covered, and she comes in, sunburnt, smiling, blazing and beautiful. it’s such a simple joy to her, but it is one, nonetheless.

she always had an interest in muggles. ginny idolized her father ( and still, perhaps, does ), and some of her earliest memories were of clambering onto piles of scrap in the burrows yard, just to peek through the little dusty window on arthur’s shed and watch as he tinkered with some new muggle artifact. she was the one who told fred and george about the car, you know - though she never thought even for a MOMENT that they would end up driving it.

she learned the concept of ‘stick and poke’ tattoos from a worn out fiction book she borrowed from hermione, and learned how to replicate them with a good quill, some magical ink and a couple good spells. she gave herself her own one, in fact - the little snitch inside of the crook of her left arm, that isn’t a perfect circle, but still manages to glow BRIGHT when the conditions are perfect for quidditch. she got pretty good at them, too, giving many of her classmates their own magical tattoos as the years went by - though, like many things that brought her joy, she stopped doing them after the battle of hogwarts.

#nox.intro #( 𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 ) ━━━ * biography !

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