#(my dad and my siblings are also ill. and my mother has a bad cold)

[maryasmorevna]

merry christmas eve to all my mutuals and followers!!!! i hope this day (and obviously tomorrow) brings you joy <33

[theokusgallery]

I hate that I have reoccurring themes in everything I make. YES this guy has a complex over the fact that everyone prefers his sibling AGAIN. YES he was ostracized by his peers since he was in primary school and never knew why until years later. URGH

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 7

Summary: Ransom makes good on his promise and your parents arrive for dinner. But then, you discover something that brings your entire world shattering down around you once more…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap and violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So here it is, the last chapter to this series! I can’t believe all this spun from @jtargaryen18​‘s Halloween challenge last year, and here we are 6 months later! Of course, I’d love to thank my writing partner from the earlier chapters, but sadly she’s no longer on Tumblr. Without her none of this would have been possible. I love you SG wherever you are. Thank you to everyone who has read and engaged so far and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The Epilogue will follow next week and trust me, you do NOT want to miss that!!

In this, the reader has a sister, however feel free to interpret the Y/S/N element as sibling instead, if that appeals to you.

Word Count: 8.5k (I’m sorry I don’t do short fics, really I am!!)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 6

 “Will you relax?” Ransom drawled from where he sat, sprawled back on the sofa in the main lounge of the house, his denim clad legs crossed at the ankles, his black cashmere sweater torso melting against the cushions. “It’s just your parents, what’s the big deal?” You weighed your reply but instead smiled, he couldn't possibly understand. He wouldn't. "Let me just have this moment, please." He looked at you, his eyebrow arched before he scoffed, “whatever, Sweetheart. But if you’re gonna keep pacing up and down, can you do it in the hallway? The wood flooring is a lot more hardwearing.” With a roll of your eyes you left the lounge, wringing your hands together. This was the first time in months you'd be seeing your parents and it wasn't lost on you the charade you'd have to keep up despite wanting to somehow plea for a rescue. It was also worrying how they were going to react. Especially following the call you’d made a week or so ago, just before New Year’s Eve.

When you’d dialled the number you knew off by heart, your mother had answered. And upon hearing your voice she had shrieked and then the line had gone quiet until your father had spoken your name with a trembling voice. You’d been unable to answer straight away, your own voice catching, before a sob had burst from your throat and the tears had poured down your face. You’d managed a few, choked words of apologies until Ransom had pushed himself up from the seat he had been perched in, silently observing. He curled his arm over your shoulder, giving you a squeeze as you composed yourself. Eventually, you’d managed to calm yourself down and thankfully your dad hadn’t asked too many questions but had accepted your invite to dinner.

And now, here you were, nervously awaiting their arrival.

It wasn’t lost on you that, in their eyes, the fact you had cut them off was your decision, not forced on you by the man you were now sharing a bed with. And that was your other worry, you had no idea how he was going to behave. If Ransom showed your family the same contempt he displayed to his own, your dad wasn’t the type of man who would stand for it. And then what? But you had zero time to think on it as the doorbell rang. Your heart leapt to your throat and your stomach turned acidic. Ransom poked his head out of the lounge and looked at you expectantly, like you were to answer. Adjusting your sweater dress for the millionth time, you walked to the front door and reached for the knob with a shaky hand. You steeled your nerves and blinked hard to dissipate the tears, and opened the door. For the first time in months you looked back into the familiar eyes of your parents. Your mom’s face was pinched, as if she was chewing the inside of her cheeks and as you glanced to your dad you already noticed the daggers he was shooting at the man behind you. To anyone else it would be enough to make them quake in their shoes, but not Ransom. “Mom, Dad.” Your voice sounded alien as you spoke quietly, your fingers grabbing at the bottom of your sleeves as one of Ransom’s hands curled over your shoulder. "Y/N," your dad replied, and the awkwardness officially set in.

"Aren't you going to invite them in, Sweetheart?" Ransom's voice made you jump a bit.

"Yes, please, come in," you stepped aside for them to enter. "Welcome to, erm, our home."

Calling it that felt all sorts of wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Besides, it wasn’t like you could call it what it was, your prison. Your father stepped inside followed by your mother, the foyer now feeling a little crowded. Your mother was quick to pull you in for a hug. But it was brief and not the way she used to hug you, no, this hug felt like it came from a stranger. Your dad’s embrace, however, was everything you remembered. Safety, strength and love and you felt yourself melt into his arms, choking back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest. "We appreciate you coming to dinner," Ransom spoke, breaking the embrace you shared with your father. "It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Ransom." Your dad looked at you as you nodded, wiping the tears from your eyes as he looked to Ransom. “We know who you are. With the news, the papers and Y/N's article, we've probably become more acquainted than you're aware.” He spoke calmly but cooly, gripping Ransom’s outstretched hand with a less than friendly shake, one that would make a lesser man wince. Instead, you saw what you thought was a flicker of amusement on Ransom's face before your dad released his hand and you introduced your mother. She didn’t offer her hand. Instead she gave a sniff and took a deep breath, getting straight to the point as she always did. “Well, this is all very nice and everything but what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Y/N? You disappeared with no trace, we thought you were dead, and then we find out you're not. Instead you’re, with him, choosing not to contact us or speak to us? Forgive me for the brash and abrupt approach, but before we sit down for dinner, we deserve some answers.” Her voice gathered pace and volume as she continued to rail at you, telling you how worried and sick the entire family had been, how thanksgiving and Christmas without you had been awful and whatever else she had on her mind as she spewed her words at you, her face an eyes blazing with anger. You felt sick, never had you meant for any of this to happen, clearly. And you'd secretly hoped Ransom would have seen the devastation he'd caused by his actions, however you knew that was an ill-fated hope just as well. You struggled to speak, the words jumbling around in your head and your mouth bone dry. "I'm so sorry," Ransom sighed. "Why don't we come into the lounge and have a drink or two and we can talk all about it? I know that Y/N was looking forward to your visit and clearing the air."

He looked at you as he ushered towards the lounge, a hidden smugness to his face that only you could detect. He thought he'd just played the hero, the prince saving his distressed princess. “Good idea,” your dad nodded, his hand gently on the base of your mother’s spine, “come on, Honey.” “Straight down, second on your right.” Ransom informed as your parents headed off a little ahead of you.

“Now, remember, what you tell them has to match what you said to Blanc.” Ransom took your hand in his and spoke quietly as you both began to follow your parents. “I. Know.” You grit though your teeth and jerked your hand free of his. He stopped dead and turned to face you, and for the first time ever you saw something akin to fear on his face, you were resisting that much anger. “Y/N...” he started but you shook your head. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt them or me do you? That or you simply still don’t care.” You hissed before you took a deep breath and drew yourself up tall. “But, we’ll just go in there, spin a load of more lies and that’s it, all done isn’t it?” He blinked before his jaw set and he shook his head. “I’m warning you...” “What else is new?” You sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything and I’ll still be here when they leave.” You stepped a pace or two in front of him and entered the lounge. Your parents were sitting on the couch you'd become very familiar with while Ransom moved straight for the drink cart. "Mr. Y/L/N, can I interest you in a top shelf scotch?" "Mom," you said softly as the conversation between your dad and Ransom faded out, "Ransom and I have a great white wine if you'd like or..." "Scotch is fine," she interrupted you, a stone cold look to her disappointed face. Ransom served the drinks, handing you your preferred wine with a kiss to your head. You watched how your parents interacted with him, the way your father watched every calculated step, the way your mother shot daggers in the two of you as you sat opposite them on the love seat. You leaned forward so as to move a bit away from Ransom, however, he was quick to put his arm over the back of the love seat, his hand able to still touch you. “So, erm, how’s....” “Your sister? Nanna? Granddad? Who would you like to start with?” Your mom took a sip of her drink and you dropped your eyes, your gaze focussed on your hands as they rubbed together. 

"I'm sorry, okay?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I know you’re angry and upset and you have every right to be but... I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” “That detective man, Blanc, and the police... they said you didn’t want us to know where you were...” “I didn’t.” You choked on the lie a little. “My head was a mess and...” you sniffed as you felt Ransom’s fingers graze the skin on the back of your neck as you looked at your mom. “Mom, please, please don't make tonight continue with vicious jabs and vile glares. I'm sorry, to you, to everyone. I was...." you stopped and centred yourself. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do." "Why don't we just get this out of the way then maybe we can move on with our evening?" Ransom suggested and your father nodded in shocking agreement. "Let's let her explain, Dear. She said she made a mistake and there were good reasons she couldn't come to us, I'm sure. Let's just hear her out." Your father was always the more sensible one. You mother took a shaky breath and looked at you and you swallowed before you started to talk, the lie you had rehearsed in your head slipping from your lips. “I erm, I was having a bit of trouble at work and everything just got too much and... well, I don’t know what happened, a breakdown or whatever,” you took a deep breath, “I just needed to get away, from everything.” “Including us?” Your mom asked and you shook your head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just...” "You know, it doesn’t matter what you say to explain because frankly, I won't understand but I do hope that you never have to experience what we went through. Ever." She deadpanned. "I do believe that is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. I encouraged her approach and didn't discourage the fact that she wasn't contacting you or anyone she was close with." Ransom sighed, feigning concern for your parents.

You knew what he was doing, the Master Manipulator was coming out in him and you knew there was no going back, no. It was as if Ransom said 'challenge accepted' in winning your parents over. Just, so you assumed, the night would end and you'd be happy in his arms and they'd never think twice about your brief disappearance again. “We hadn’t been seeing each other that long, and my reputation isn’t the greatest. But I should have put my own concerns aside and seen that the way we were going about things was wrong and I should have insisted she reached out. You see, me and my family aren’t close and I sometimes forget that we’re the ones that aren’t normal.” "We hadn't known she was seeing anyone," your mum stated. She was out with her claws, not going to let Ransom nor you off so easily.

"Well, I'm not like Y/S/N, Mom. I don't just bring home whomever I'm taking to bed that month." You'd said it before you could stop it. Never had you said something like that before about your sister, nor spoken to your mother like that. And you didn't miss the twitch of a smirk to the corner of Ransom's lips, telling you he was a bit proud. Surely, you didn't want him to be rubbing off on you in that way. "I'm sorry, that wasn't how I meant it. I just knew I had to be more careful in sharing everything. Like he said, he's not got the best rap, but, after my interview on him, well I guess I just found him intriguing and-“ “Ah, yes," your father now spoke up, cutting you off, “the smear and redact. Believe me, Ransom, we're very familiar with your reputation and our daughter's initial thoughts on you. Which is why you can see how we were a little surprised, once the initial shock of her supposed death wore off, that the two of you were... together." “I understand.” Ransom nodded. “And I would feel the same in your shoes. But, well, I guess after the interview things just kind of spiralled from there. I don’t really know how it happened myself, to be honest, I’m just glad it did.” As if he was sealing the deal, he leaned toward you and pressed his lips to your temple. You sighed and gave him a smile. This bastard was smug enough to start shifting the tone in the room with a metaphorical snap of his fucking fingers and you watched it work on your parents. The ice slowly melting away, the glacial peak softening around your mother. And then the metaphorical snap became a real one as he moved his arm from round you, clicked the fingers of both hands and then slapped his left palm with the underside of his right fist with a flourish as he flashed a smile round the room. “Okay, so....who’s hungry?”

Your parents both raised their eyebrows and as your mom looked at your dad, you saw him shake his head ever so slightly and she took a deep breath, before she turned back to Ransom and you, a small smile on her face. “Dinner sounds great.” "Sweetheart, after you," Ransom politely shifted to the side so you could rise and lead the way. He turned back to your parents, "we wanted to make sure we were able to spend as much time together without the chore of preparing and cleaning up after so we had dinner brought in. Y/N had it all set just before you arrived." You shot him a glare as you moved by him, your mother and father behind you, Ransom pulling up the rear. Sure enough, still warm and catered were four place settings at the table in the large dining room across and down a bit from the lounge. Your parents sat down across the table from where you and Ransom stood, silver dome lids obscuring your eyeline as you sat. Oddly, you'd never eaten in the dining room before. It was your room in the basement, the kitchen table or the coffee table in the lounge. Red wine and cutlery were already set along with water. Your parents and Ransom set their scotch glasses near the wine. Your dad arched an eyebrow at the ostentatious nature of it all and you caught his gaze as he gave you a kneeling smirk. With a laugh, you realized that someone should at least remove the lids, and since you were the host, you rose from your chair and bent over the table a little, reaching for the knobs of their domes. You stacked them together and sat back down, pulling yours and Ransom's as you went.

As you settled down to eat, your parents both complimented the food before a little silence fell as you all ate, the occasional clanking of cutlery against the porcelain plates ringing out across the large room. Ransom made a few comments here and there about the food from the company you’d ordered from being good, as usual, your parents agreeing before a light conversation struck up about the holidays and various other mundane topics, all as if you were close and the conversation prior hadn't happened. Like it was a regular Sunday family dinner. All the time, you spotted your parents growing more and more comfortable with the situation, and you felt yourself relax a little, hoping and praying that things would keep amicable.

And then, after another spell of silence you heard your mother clear her throat. "So, Ransom, what is you do? I never gathered that from…well, from…” she trailed off and Ransom took a dep breath. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Y/L/N, not a great deal until recently. Just another way Y/N managed to help me change my life around." He looked at you with appreciation. "She made me see that living my life riding off people’s coat tails wasn’t really anything to be proud of.” He paused to take a sip of his scotch before he cut another piece of his steak. “Now I’m writing. I have a couple of things on the go and a few from my grandfather that he never finished so, hopefully, they’ll take off.” This bastard! You could not believe the bullshit that so easily sprang from his mouth. It was fascinating and yet absolutely disgusting at once. You found yourself convinced, and not for the first time, that he actually believed the shit he talked. "What's your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?" You father queried, after swallowing down his steak with his wine, saving his scotch for after. “Not at all,” Ransom swallowed his food. “Another area I’ve taken inspiration from, it’s based on a private detective.” He gave a chuckle. “I’ll be handing out a lot of royalties and dedications at this rate.” "Just a private detective?" You pressed, having wondered yourself as he'd told you once before you were an inspiration. He looked at you, smirking a little. “I’ve told you, Princess, I’ll let you read it when the first draft is done.”

Your father eyed you as Ransom spoke of pet names and inspirations. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze, entertaining Ransom's portion of the conversation but you found them quickly fluttering back to those kind eyes that matched yours. At that point, your dad shot you a sweet father-like wink before clearing his throat and speaking.  "So, let's not beat around the obvious, this is awkward." He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll just come right out with it. What could your future intentions be with my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" You surely hadn't seen that coming.  Ransom blinked a little before he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep her as long as I can, Sir.”

At that, his hand curled over your knee, giving a gentle squeeze and you took a deep breath, drawing your back up straight as his hand gently started to trail further up towards your thigh, fingers still hot on your skin through the layer of your thick tights. You cleared your throat, and moved a little, and Ransom removed his hand, a smirk blatantly evident on his face.

“Good to know.” Your dad reached for his wine again, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean the lease has gone on her apartment now and we turned her room into a gym the moment she moved out.”

“Oh purlease!” Your mom scoffed, “a gym. By that he means he has a rowing machine and a bunch of weights that serve as nothing more than expensive door stops.”

At that Ransom gave a full belly laugh, his head tipping back with just the right amount of humour. Not too much to appear fake, but enough to seem like the exchange had genuinely amused him. He almost had you fooled too.

Bastard.

The rest of the dinner past with fairly amicable chat, the ice well and truly broken. Ransom and your father struck up a pleasant conversation about football and then baseball, Ransom confessing that he hadn’t been following either sport much recently but also nodding when your dad suggested that perhaps they could catch a game sometime soon, in a bar. At that you had smirked into your glass, as you knew the thought of going to a place surrounded by a load of loud, drunken members of the public would be Ransom’s idea of hell. The idea that he might just have to follow through on your promise amused you, a lot.

Eventually, your parents both announced that they should be going, and the warmth and happiness that had descended on you began to slowly seep away as you hugged them both good bye. As they headed down to their car, you stifled down a sob as you waved them away, realising you had no idea when you’d be seeing them again. That was on Ransom, for him to decide when and if you deserved it.

But, you’d played his game. You’d behaved. He said he wanted you to trust him, to be content with him. Surely, he would realise that this was the happiest you’d been since he snatched you, and if you continued to behave then he would have no reason to keep you from seeing them for so long again.

With a sigh you turn away from the door and step back inside, Ransom just behind you. You stopped and waited for him to close the door and lock it. He gave you a little twitch of a smile. 

“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I expected.”

You rolled your eyes.

"You were great, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you won them over. I doubt they suspected anything by the time they left." Your words didn't cut him, they cut you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, "anyway, I'm going to go clean up. I'll meet you upstairs."

"What, no 'thank you'?" He piqued.

You turned back to him, "Thank you, Ransom. For allowing my parents to come over."

“That wouldn’t be sarcasm, now would it?” He arched a brow, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, no, not at all," you overly pouted, stepping up to him, running your hands over his chest to seal your own sarcastic ploy.

His hands were quick to grab your wrists and oddly there was an air of excitement to your eyes.

“What on earth is there to possibly be sarcastic about?” You continued and he scoffed.

“It’s a good thing I kinda like your sass.”

You simply quirk your eyebrows and give a small shrug before attempting to turn away. However, Ransom still had a hold of your wrists and he kept you rooted near by.

“Ransom, what...”

“Leave the dishes, the maid comes tomorrow. I pay her enough, she can deal with it.”

You scoffed, “you’re such an asshole.”

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than suggested.

Since your little tryst in his precious car a week ago, he'd been far more touchy-feely, needy even. And in your eyes, Ransom Drysdale didn't do needy. However, this neediness served a purpose. You were able to keep him soft in all but one place, manipulating his needs for your own.

“You want me to come to bed with you?” You playfully quipped, cocking your head to one side.

“You want me to beg or something, Y/N?” His voice lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I can make it a demand not a request.”

“Not beg, no.” You ignored his threat. “But a please wouldn’t go amiss.”

His controlling hands moved your arms around his neck before they fell away to your waist. His forehead bent into yours and his nose brushed against the tip of your own. "Please, come to bed with me, baby," he whispered against you.

You were smirking inside as his lips met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue gently flicking through your lips and sliding against yours. 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It was a quick swoop, one that completely caught you off guard as he pulled you off your feet, his arm around your back while the other was hooked under your legs. His lips were on yours as he carried you to the staircase, not ever missing a beat or step, his tongue gliding over yours as he walked.

You didn't know how the two of you had made it up to your bedroom, and without incident but, the next thing you knew, you were led flat over your bed, his body caging you in.

“You said I did well.” You looked at him and he blinked, his brow furrowing a little. “How well?”

Silently as you waited, hoping he would take the bait.

And he did.

“Very well.” his eyes searched yours and you bit your lip.

“Well enough for me to see them again?”

"If you want, maybe lunch with your mother," he answered, kissing over your jaw and down your neck between each phrase.

You stilled, shock hitting your system and just how easily he had offered that up, you hadn’t even had to try. Noticing your change in body language Ransom paused and looked at you. “What? Don’t you want to?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean...” you stopped yourself short of saying what you had been about to, that you were his damned prisoner and until a week or so ago hadn’t left the grounds at all in months. You swallowed as Ransom sighed.

"Trust, remember, baby," he leaned back on his knees between your legs. "Call her in a couple of days, set up lunch."

“And you trust me to do that?” You swallowed. “No stupid tricks or mind games?”

"I won't be far behind." There it was, the stipulation. That silent warning heeding a tone left unsaid. “That said, I’m kinda hoping we’re past the point of me having to remind you about certain things to make you come back.”

"I understand."

Ransom shook his head, licking his lips. “No, I don’t think you do.” 

There was a tone of sadness almost to his voice and you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours and then you understood.

This went right back to the core of all this. He wanted you to want to come back. Not to simply do it because you have to. It was the ever present chink in his armour, the one thing you’d been able to exploit.

And, if you were being totally honest, could more than likely learn to live with the situation if you could have some kind of grasp and control, because that’s what this was about. That ever present power struggle and desperation he has within him to be more than people simply assumed him to be.

In a twisted way, you were almost proud to see the difference in his behaviour over the last few months was insurmountable. Whether that was directly down to you or not, you couldn’t be sure, but something had made him tap into that part of himself that could show reasonableness, rationality and, dare you suggest it, compassion.

Whilst you knew you’d never forget how he had taken you, against your will, or the pain and violence he had inflicted upon your body, maybe, in time, you could forgive. 

Because he simply hadn’t known any better.

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke softly, sitting up to caress his cheek. His evening stubble scratched at your palm.

His eyes squinted shut, holding back an emotional response to her promise. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't. He physically could not bring the words out from his throat. So he did what he had always done, or thought he could, and that was to show her. Show her what he wanted to say. His lips pressed into the palm of her hand and as her fingers rubbed along his ear and behind his head, his lips travelled the length of the soft skin of her forearm until he pressed a delicate kiss to the crook of her elbow.

Turning his head, he caught her lips in a soft kiss which grew deeper as he pressed his body into hers, grinding his hardness against her groin. He felt the exhale from her nose against his cheek as his tongue muted the groan from her throat. His free hand skated up her thigh, to the hem of her sweater dress, bunching it in his fist. At that point, her hand gently wrapped around his wrist and he stopped, pulling away to look at her, his brow creased in puzzlement.

“Let me.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She sat up and he leant back as she did, her hand against his chest, guiding him how she wanted him. As her hands fiddled with his flies, his eyes never left hers. When she tugged on the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down, taking his boxers with them and he gave a slight sigh at the relief his rock hard dick was now free from it’s constraints.

“Feel good?” She smirked at the sound he made.

He nodded, “yes”, his voice gruff and gravelly.

No sooner had she said it, she’d taken him in her mouth. Instinctively, he bucked upwards, his hands settling in her hair, head falling back against the pillow as he hissed.

When his hips rutted upwards a second time, she moved back, releasing him with a pop and he glanced down at her, his face full of frustration but she simply smirked at him.

“Stop moving." 

The control of the situation wasn't his, it was hers and he was fully aware of it as she changed her pace, quick-quick-slow and if he squirmed she stopped.

A roll of his balls between her hand made him shudder. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “fuck, Y/N!”

She responded by taking him to the back of her throat, and the noise that came from his was halfway between a growl and a whimper as it stumbled from his mouth.

On and on this went, and every time she brought him to the edge and he couldn’t control his movements she stopped. It was a delicious torture, but one he was fast reaching his limit with.

“Fuck, baby, I…” his hands raked through her hair as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He moaned loudly, “I gotta…”

"No," she purred, kitten licking the slit in his head, the precum dripping onto her tongue. Her lips enclosed over him again, short bobs until she was making long strides at deep throating him. 

She squealed as his hands tightened around her hair, squeezing at the strands to pull her back but she kept her pace, his hips giving way to a violent thrust to the back of her throat as he came hard, his spend shooting deep, coating her inside. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not letting up on his grip until he was done trembling in euphoria. 

Then in a beat he flipped her to her back and hand his hands over the waistband of her tights, "that wasn't smart, Sweetheart," he growled. 

His eyes flashed in challenge as she giggled and whispered, "I thought it was." 

The force of him tearing her tights as he pulled them away from her legs bothered neither of them, her thin panties soaked and leaving a wet trail down her leg as he removed them, had him salivating. 

"You think it's funny? I'm gonna see how you like it," he challenged. 

Ransom wasted no time in taking a fast swipe at her leaking cunt with his tongue and Y/N cried out as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen and throbbing clit. Her hands went straight to his hair, her knees practically boxing his ears as she curled her body towards his ample assault. 

His long arm slid up her body, over her tummy between her beasts as his splayed his fingers open across her skin, trying to press her back into the mattress. As she complied, she gave a gripping tug to his longer locks and Ransom emitted an elicit growl against her pussy. 

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, the sound sweet in his ears. 

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he spoke against just above her mounded flesh, whilst his fingers sought a wet refuge. He wasted no time in sliding two in, middle and ring fingers, slipping in a first, then second knuckle deep then scissoring inside her until they were all the way in. 

His lips curled around her clit as hers had done to his head, humming over the bud of pleasure, a pressure she nearly exploded over. 

"Oh, no, you don't get to do that yet," he stated firmly. The command made her twitch under him, her breath audibly hitching in her chest. "You're gonna cum on my cock as I fill that pussy up."

"Fuck, Ransom, please," she begged. 

"It's not funny now is it?" He slipped away from her body, sitting back on his heels and removed his own sweater. "Get naked, Princess."

He watched as she struggled to strip of the heavy sweater dress she wore, a stark difference to the fearful prize he had to himself months ago. Now she was his and he loved every single moment of it. From her sassy, smart mouth to the way she took his dick on demand. Ransom slipped his pants away, the two of them both naked and awaiting what was next. He wanted to flip her onto her tummy, rail her from behind while she took it on her hands and knees, keening at him as he thrust into her. 

But instead, he spread her legs wide and slotted his thick cock between her legs, her ankles locking around his narrow hips as he thrust in and gave a naughty twist of his hips. Slow, deep, nasty ruts into her core bounced her tits just a little and he found the wanton cries of her need to be enticing enough to lap at her nipples and breasts, licking and nipping at her skin. Grinding into her as he licked and kissed his way up her neck to that spot that made her cave in at the base of her jaw, jointed just below her ear. 

Her hands wound their way into his hair again and she gripped the strands, giving a pull back, restraining his neck a bit before she let up, allowing his head to drop a pinch. 

Chills covered his sweat sheened skin as she whispered, "harder" into his ear. His body quivered and his stomach fluttered. 

"Fuck, yes." He pulled out and flipped her to her tummy, like he'd wanted to do before. "On your knees, baby. Let me see that pussy."

She positioned like he demanded, a little sway of her hips telling him she was ready. A swift spank to her rounded ass and she cried out as he slammed home. 

"Oh, baby," she mewled as he filled her from behind, bruising fingertips pressing into her hips. 

Her lips praising him, using his nickname for her on him ignited a fire in his belly, his hips snapping harshly against her, his balls slapping against her clit. But it wasn't his pace and the pressure building in his body that was causing him to bury deep inside her, his head rubbing that g-spot that was making her moan filthy words. No, it was the look she gave as she turned her head to just peer over her should the same minute he was throbbing to cum inside her. 

"I'm...fuck, fucking cum, baby girl," he whimpered, desperately holding back so she could cream over his cock. 

And cum she did, her pulsating walls gripping him in a tight squeeze as she pulled him in with a force, literally crying out his name as she came. Her body practically convulsing in pleasure as he filled her up with his seed. The two of them collapsing against the expensive sheets, his body led over hers, still sheathed inside her as they both sagged and panted. 

As if high on the throws of their ecstasy, Ransom kissed along her back with heavy lips and hooded eyes. He could taste the saltiness of her skin, the dampness of sweet sweat a leaving a wet coating over his lips. And when he could feel the blood return to his extremities, he ever so gently pulled out of her, his body sore and tired. She whined at the feeling of his weight escaping her body, but he was quick to fill that void, replacing it with the heat of his frame as he pulled her close, allowing her head to rest against his bare and sculpted chest. He pressed his lips onto the crown of her head. 

"Sleep, baby," he whispered. "Just relax and sleep."

***** For weeks things were good, maybe even really good. Ransom was giving you more freedom, not yet unattended, but you weren't locked away. He'd made do on his promise. 

You had a great lunch with your mother, at the Country Club, in which he'd set up. He'd driven you there, waited in the bar but could easily keep an eye on you. Whilst he might have had ulterior motives that were slightly more sinister than merely being there to keep an eye on you in case you had a panic attack (the excuse you gave to your mother), all in all you didn’t mind. You, too, didn't doubt he paid the waiter a hefty tip to stay nearby as he'd checked on your table more often than most or necessary, again, you didn't mind. 

But despite his hovering, a point you'd made when you'd returned, he promised he trusted you so to save the pains of an argument, you let it go. You'd kept your own promise, never to drop a hint to your mother or anyone else that you weren't less than a free woman.

As the days neared Valentine's Day, Ransom seemed to be more touchy than usual and more than once you'd caught him softly staring at you. His eyes conveying more emotion than they did. Not unlike the first few nights when things had drastically changed between you in November. And when the day arrived, you both exchanged gifts after an early morning wakeup call that you most certainly did not mind. Ransom seemed genuinely pleased with the new silk scarf you’d ordered, having thought it would be a nice replacement for the one he had left at the mansion and point blank refused to return to collect.

For your gift, he handed you a small white envelope. Giving him a puzzled look, you opened it and pulled out a small card.

‘In our favourite room you'll find, your gift my beautiful Valentine.’

Instantly you felt an uncomfortable cold feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed a little. It was a clue, exactly like the ones he had set for you all that time ago on Halloween the previous year. But, as you blinked and looked at him, you saw the expectation on his face and had to remind yourself that this was different.

This was not the same man.

"Is it at least wrapped in a bow, so I know it's mine?" You asked and he smirked a little, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

 "Trust me, you'll know when you see it."

With a final look at him, you climbed out of bed and pulled on your silk slip before you headed down the stairs. As soon as you’d read the clue, you knew he meant the study. But, when you opened the door, you started to wonder if you’d made a mistake as there was nothing there jumping out at you, at all.

You started rummaging through the stack of things on the desk, looking for anything that resembled a gift. In your haste, you accidentally knocked small stack of notebooks over the edge of the desk. You rushed to get them and straighten them up, hoping not to mess up the order of things he'd had piled together. The moment the leather-bound journal like book touched your fingers, a jolt of curiosity ran through you. 

You opened the cover and ran your fingertips over the dried ink that sat engraved on the pages, a bold and all capitalized print to the handwriting. Not a surprise from a man who's harsh overture played constantly on the surface. Your eyes scanned and scanned the scroll, a frown creased your brow as you registered the meaning of all his notes.

These weren't just any sort of notes, these were his footnotes for his book. And that now disorganized stack of papers that moments ago littered the floor, you looked at them again and realized there among the typed and printed pieces of paper, was his manuscript. 

Hesitating, you picked it up. The front page was plain bar the words. ‘Murder, He Wrote’ and you scoffed at the fact that was the title of the article that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. Mind you, he had said you were a muse of sorts so maybe that was his way of tribute.

You flipped through, skimming the pages, finding yourself strangely proud if you will, that he’d actually finished it, well what appeared to be the first draft anyway. It was indeed about a private detective, by the name of Arnie Bronze, who was hot on the tale of a missing woman called Lucy Roberts who had vanished in mysterious circumstances.

You skipped on a few pages, the narrative shifted to that of focussing on the so called killer, a man named Riley, and you realised that Lucy wasn’t dead as anticipated, she was being held captive. 

In Riley’s basement.

You felt your stomach clench as you focussed in on a small snippet of dialogue, one that was extremely familiar.

 ‘I like this,’ Riley toyed with the straps to the bra Lucy was wearing, his middle finger tracing the outline of the strap against her skin before his lips followed the same path.

‘You should, you chose it,’ her voice was quiet, but still there it was, that unmistakable undercurrent of disdain she carried for him visibly present, as always.

Riley merely chuckled, ‘like I chose you, huh.’ At that, she blinked and looked at him, and he flashed her a smile. Oh, if only she understood exactly why…

What. The. Fuck?

Was he writing about you? Or had he already written this and was merely acting out his sick fucking fantasy. The answer to that became apparent when you tossed the manuscript down and reached for his book of notes.

It was littered with note after note, graphic accounts of the things he’d done to you, along with little questions and observations, how he could turn that into passages for his book. Your breath began to quicken and you turned the pages faster and faster, not needing to read his notes in the slightest as you could remember every sordid little detail for yourself.

Eventually you found the last page. This one contained two simple lines, the first from the night of Harlan’s memorial when he’d arrived home completely soaked.

Memorial was a shit show, as anything is when the fucking Thrombey’s are involved. Y/N made hot chocolate. Held a conversation I actually enjoyed.

This contained no side note as to how this could be used within his book, almost as if it was simply a journal entry, but you didn’t really have time to dwell on that, as your eyes flicked to the line underneath which carried no date.

Original plan changed, no longer going to get rid of when purpose served. Storyline of book will diverge at this point.

'When purpose served'. Well, it didn’t take a genius to work that out.

You threw the book down onto the desk, the room swimming around you as both your hands covered your mouth in shock and horror. You were sick to your stomach, the bile acid in your stomach turning acrid, and you wanted to wretch. 

He’d meant to kill you.

“So, do you like my gift?”

The voice made you scream and you jumped, turning to face the doorway where Ransom was stood, his sweats hung low on his hips, arms folded over his bare chest as he leaned against the frame.

“What?” you blinked, swallowing, the word nothing more than a trembling whisper. “You mean you wanted me to find this?”

“You asked me about being my muse.” He shrugged. “As you can see, you were much more than that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn't hold back the gag in your throat and you quickly turned into the waste bin by the desk, spewing your empty stomach into it. The bile burned your throat as it came up. With a shaky back of your hand, you wiped away the remnants of your episode and leaned forward on the desk, your free hand palm flat against the mahogany.

You were disgusted, that much was painfully true, but you were now terribly afraid for your life. A feeling that hadn't come over you in four months. You felt just as you had that very night, terrified, alone, and fighting a sense of chill that crept through your body and deep into your bones. Your eyes, big and brimming with tears looked up at him and your mind went numb in processing the situation. No quicker than you had just vomited, you felt a pang of hurt, your heart ripping from your chest as everything settled within you. You had accepted this, this fate that had been laid out for you. You were accepting him and the life you were being forced to live. You accepted the beast that had begun to care. But he was merely a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true monster you'd always known to lie in wait just under the surface. 

Your brows creased and your heart raced. You felt the bubbling of a scream start deep in your churning belly, your own monster vying to climb its up your chest and out of your throat. You were angrily screaming on the inside long before your voice sounded to the outside, piercing the room in a shattering, blood-curdling banshee cry of anger. 

“This…” you picked up the notebook in your right hand, throwing it at him violently, “this is the reason you took me?”

“Yes.” He didn't even dodge the thickly bound object as it hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground. 

“You...fucking asshole.” You spat, angrily swiping your arm across the desk. The neatly stacked piles of papers scattered like leaves falling from a tree as they fluttered to the floor. “And to think, I actually started to believe myself that there was more to you than everyone said, that underneath all of that bravado and narcissistic, downright nasty bastard exterior there was something or someone that maybe, just maybe was worthy of caring for! ” Your voice was loud, echoing off the wall of his study as you screamed at him. “But you kidnapped and raped and hurt me in ways I never thought possible for what? So you could write a goddamned book?”

Hot tears coursed down your face as you trembled, staring back at the utter monster who stood before you, his face stony as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then you planned to kill me once I no longer served a purpose? Well, tell me, how long have I got?”

“It’s not like that anymore.” Ransom took a deep breath as he stepped forward. He was calm, too calm and instantly you took a step back. “That was my initial plan, yeah, but what I wasn’t banking on was how being around you would make me feel.” He swallowed as he licked his lips. “I couldn’t get rid of you like I originally planned once you served your purpose. Because I love you.” Your mouth dropped open at his confession, utter horror coursing through your veins as you realised what he was saying. The chances of you getting out of this were depleting by the second. He really was completely fucked in the head. “No, no you don’t!” You shook your head, “this...is not love, Ransom, this is obsession, it’s...” He cut you off as he surged forward, his lips pressing to yours. You placed your hands on his chest, shoving hard as you turned your face away, screaming loudly at him to leave you alone. In an easy movement he spun you round, his arms clamping around yours pulling them behind you as he held you in place, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed his lips to your neck. “I know deep down you love me too...” his breath was hot on your neck, voice still eerily calm as his hips pushed forward and you could feel his erection digging into the curve of your spine. “Fuck, this is what you’ve done to me, feel that, Sweetheart? You wrecked me, and now I need you. It’s that simple.” At that he pushed you forward, harshly bending you over his desk, one large hand securing both of yours being your back, your body twisted in a warped recreation of that time he’d used your sweater to restrain you all those months ago. You struggled but he simply twisted your arm further, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as his other hand roughly hoisted up your night-dress. “You’ll say it eventually.” He stated calmly as you heard that tell-tale rustle of fabric as he pushed down his sweats. “It might take another spell in the basement to make you realise, but you’ll come round.” “It doesn’t work like that.” You sobbed, your voice cracking as his hand let go of your arms and slid up to your neck, reaching round your throat. His fingers curled round your neck as he pulled your head back, his mouth nipping at your neck before he pulled back, his face inches from yours as his icy blues stared locked onto your eyes. They were cold, dangerous and you shook your head, tears pouring down your face.  Your lip trembled as you closer your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again, resigning yourself to the fact that this next line might just seal your fate and wind up with you losing your life. But right now, that would be a blessed way out.  “I can’t love you simply because that’s what you want.” “Oh Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his lips ghosting over yours, “I know that. I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, but the only person you’re fooling is yourself. I just want you to admit it.”

“I won’t.” You stuttered, “never, Ransom.”

“Oh, Y/N. Haven’t you learned by now? I always get what I want, including this, you’ll see.” With a harsh thrust forward he pushed inside you, making you scream at the burn thanks to the fact you weren’t ready for him, at all. He gave a groan as he grabbed at your hips, your pelvis jolting painfully into the edge of the hard wooden desk you were bent over. “As my granddad used to quote,” he pulled back before delivering another deep thrust harshly into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as you closed your eyes, scrunching them shut as your cheek rest against the desk, tears leaking from your eyes, “we all become stories in the end.” 

He gave another deep rut forward as he ground into you, his breathing deep.

“Now it’s time to rewrite ours, Princess.”

*****

Epilogue

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

Out of all the Beatles, who do you think had the most stable environment growing up?

Seems like George had the most stable environment to me, but ill rank them all to procrastinate on school work

1. George

@sailtheshipchopthetree informed me on a lot of this in the comments to this post (x) (so credit goes to them!) but apparently Georges mum was a very supportive force, even through Hamburg era and the early, unpromising Beatles career. As well as this, they mentioned that George was getting poor grades at school, largely due to him putting in a lack of effort to his studies at the Liverpool institute. But this suggests he felt so secure in his parents love and affection for him that he didn't fear failure or feel a need to excel in his subjects.

And also, theres this interview (x) of course, in which we learn Georges dad was fucking legend and we love him <333 Plus, George had siblings - and I know in later life him and one of his sisters didn’t speak for years - although I think there must be more to that story that I don’t know, because its just ridiculously petty and cold - but outside of that I recall him speaking fondly of his early family life in “I. Me. Mine.”

I think the Harrisons had some financial struggles, but overall, I feel they were a strong, supportive family unit, with a good sense of humour.

2. Ringo

Ringo I think also had a pretty stable environment - although his father left both him and his mother, so Elsie (Ringo's mother) was left as a single mother - which especially in such a patriarchal era must have been difficult. He had a step-father too, although im not sure exactly when he came into the picture. And then of course there was his sicknesses, which must have put a lot of stress onto his poor mum. But outside of all this, ive heard Ringo had a great relationship with his mum and step-dad - so although that family faced a lot of trials and tribulations, they still seemed like a very loving one even through the more unstable and difficult times.

3. Paul

And then theres the McCartneys. We really don’t know much about Mary outside of what Paul has told us, which tends to be very positive - and so its difficult to discern any clear outline of her as a person. But we know a bit more regarding Pauls father, Jim; although Angie McCartney (Pauls step-mum) portrayed him in her book as a very reserved and self-effacing man, and didn’t mention any instances of aggression on his behalf - this portrayal of him seems to be contrasted by mentions from Paul that his dad would hit him into his late teens, and was arguably overly-controlling. Thats not to say though that I don’t believe these two sides to Jim couldn’t co-exist - I feel they did! And I wouldn’t be surprised if Angie seldom ever saw him yell or anything, as they married when Jim was already ill and old, and therefore more fragile. But I think Jim could be both a stable and unstable force - where in some instances his controlling nature was probably quite grounding, in other cases it perhaps drove Paul towards an insecurity.

Theres also his mothers death at 14, which was very abrupt for both Paul and Mike, being that they weren't told of her illness until shortly before her passing. A disruption like that probably threw Pauls once overall stable and loving environment into chaos.

4. John

Im very conflicted with the whole Julia vs Mimi thing, and I just dont know who to believe. Some say Mimi practically just stole John from his adoring mother, Julia, solely on the basis of classist and sexist reasons. Other people say Julia was reckless and negligent, and Mimi was genuinely concerned. I think it was a bit of both really - my guess would be that Julia could be impulsive, a bit reckless, and emotional, all of which had the capacity to be both good and bad traits! And I don’t doubt that she adored John - but I think she was probably struggling with some sort of untreated mental illness (perhaps BPD or Bipolar, or both even? Just pure speculation, but I think it was definitely something) that could make raising a child challenging, and so I do think Mimi probably intervened with good intentions - although I believe that there was also classism and sexism involved in her making this decision to “adopt” John in a sense.

Alf I just don’t have much to say on because he wasn’t in Johns life throughout his childhood, but it clearly promoted an insecurity within John and his attachment patterns. And there was also Johns Uncle George, who was effectively a father figure to him until he abruptly died when John was 13. He’s someone who can tend to be overlooked in his significance to Johns abandonment issues - but certainly his death did really displace John. He apparently complimented Mimi well, because he was a very easy-going guy, whereas Mimi was clearly quite stern and strict and difficult; and I cant even go into all my thoughts on Mimi here cause I have so many (though I don’t hate her, but im definitely not a cheerleader). I wrote out quite a lot of my thoughts on her here (x) and here (x) though if anyone wants to read them!

Ive just got so much to say about Johns upbringing that I can’t even get into all of it rn (cause im tired) but I think you get the point. There was a lot of instability.

[levis-hazelnut]

Kirishima x Reader I Promise

Summary: you loved the rain, so you went outside and just stood there, reminiscing the past. Then, your boyfriend appeared, concerned for you since you were sick.

Everyone was inside the dorm but you. There was a thunderstorm and you loved it, so you the second you heard the rain pattering against the glass of your window, you rushed outside, ignoring the statements of your fellow classmates who tried to stop you from going outside since you already had a cold but you didn't care; you loved the rain.

The past few days, most of your class have been trying to get you to stay in your bed and rest, but you were being your stubborn self and refused to, wanting to do things that you normally do. So what if you're sick? You can still do the things you want. You stood outside, enjoying the feeling of rain hitting you with a soft sound before it seeped through your clothes and dampened your flesh. Though most people would hate getting soaked, you didn't mind it because it brought back all your childhood memories which couldn't be created again, and you don't want to forget them. Ever. Because they hold a unique place in your heart which only one person has touched, and they also made another special spot. Both of the things that have your heart are dear to you, and they are the two things you definitely don't want to lose.

Shortly, the rain wasn't the only liquid flowing down your face. Joining the rain were your tears that fell unexpectedly. But you weren't sad, so why were you crying? Is it because of the recollections? If anything, they make you happy. So why? Because of all the moisture on your face, you had to brush your hair back to prevent it from sticking to your skin, however, the wind had other ideas, trying to keep your hair in the way. You sighed in frustration and took the hairband from your wrist to tie your hair in a loose ponytail. Once you did that, you wiped your tears away but, against your will, they kept on spraying out of your eyes. Lightning struck somewhere in the distance before thunder followed. You didn't even flinch, you were rather enjoying all the noises mingling together; the shower and crashing of clouds. You don't know why, but you found peace in the midst of this thunderstorm. It wasn't like other days when it would just rain, it seemed to affect you more in a way, causing you to silently sob. Though, you couldn't even sniffle since your nose was blocked. When you were younger, you lived with your parents and two brothers, one was older and the other was younger. Whenever it rained, you and your siblings would want to go outside but your mother and father would stop the three of you, telling you to put on a coat and wear suitable shoes. Once you were all ready, you would run into the garden and play in the rain.

Sometimes, one of you would slip. Sometimes, one of you would fall face flat onto the ground while the other two laughed at the mud stuck to their face. Sometimes, one of you, or all of you, would get sick and your parents would bring you in to warm you up and care for you. Sometimes, all three of you would want to get sick on purpose so you could be cared for. Sometimes, when you were sick, you all competed to see who your parents loved the most. And they would always say, "We love all of you equally." If only your family were still here with you... "(Y/N)?" a voice uttered softly as they approached you. Quickly, you cleared your tears away, upon hearing the familiar voice, before turning towards the redhead with a small smile. He owned a smile before sighing and shaking his head as he neared closer to you. Once he reached you, he placed a jacket around your drenched frame. He folded his arms and slightly frowned at you. "If you were going to come outside in this weather, you should have worn a jacket," he muttered, pulling you into his arms. "I'm fine," you said with a quiet voice since you had a sore throat. "Whatever... Why were you crying?" the teenager inquired, causing you to look up at him with a questioning glint in your eyes. How did he know you were crying? "You think I wouldn't know that you were crying? What's wrong?" "... I was just thinking..." "About...?" "Stuff." "Stuff about your childhood?" You meekly nodded, averting your gaze to the ground where you watched each raindrop fall with a tap and combine with others to create a small puddle. "You know that I'm always going to be here when you want to talk. Don't hold back." "Why did everything close to me have to leave me?" you murmured into his chest. "I won't leave you," he told you gently, resting his chin upon your head. "How can you keep that promise?" "You'll just have to trust me." Kirishima removed his chin from your head and cupped your cheek, tearing your face away from his slightly wet shirt. There was a tender smile painted on his lips before he leaned in for a kiss and you returned the action, giving him a loving kiss. "Aw, look at them! They're so cute!" Ashido exclaimed. "I wish I had a boyfriend like him," Hagakure sighed. "Stop spying on them," Yaoyorozu scolded them. You parted from his lips, bringing your hands up his chest and to his face. "I love you, Eijirou." "I love you, too, (Y/N)," he replied with an adorable grin. "Come on, let's go inside. You're soaking and I don't want you getting more ill." "I want to stay here for a bit longer. But you can go inside." "I'll keep you company then. It wouldn't be manly if I left my girlfriend by herself." He draped an arm over your shoulders and kissed your temple as both of you stood there in silence in the rain, which was slowly getting lighter, soon turning to drizzle as the sky cleared up a little, exposing the evening sky. "Let's go," you spoke, turning to your boyfriend who seemed lost in thought. He nodded and both of you went back inside, water trickling from your clothes. Multiple coughs left your throat as you put your forearm on your mouth. A concerned expression was smeared over Kirishima’s face as he took dripping jacket from you and left it to hang. You carried on coughing so he rubbed a hand on your back as a way of helping you. "Change out of your clothes and have a warm shower. I'll make you hot chocolate." "Thanks, babe.”. You slowly made your way to the showers, finding some other girls there who beamed at you. You gave a smile in return but you weren't bothered to make conversation with them. All you wanted was Kirishima and the hot chocolate he made for you. And that’s what you got. Your boyfriend had his hair down as he sat cross-legged on his bed with his back to the wall and you sat in front of him, your back facing him. A mug of hot chocolate was in your hand, and a book in the other, and you took a sip of the beverage every now and then. As you did that, he gently brushed your wet hair, making sure not to yank your hair or cause you any pain. "Do you want some?" you offered, but he refused. "It's really good. Thank you." "Anything for you, puppy." Once he was finished, he put down the hairbrush and dragged you onto his lap, looping an arm around your waist. You laid your head on his shoulder and continued reading your book, Kirishima joining you. After a moment, he glanced at you to see how engrossed you were, causing a smile to creep onto his lips. You had a feeling he was staring at you, so you looked at him, locking eyes with his crimson ones. You pecked his lips before turning back to the book. A while after, you had fallen asleep, so he had carefully placed you down on his bed, drawing the covers over you. He turned off the light and went in next to you, pulling you close to his chest. He kissed your forehead and rested his cheek on top of your head before drifting off. In the middle of the night, you woke up to find yourself crying as you sat up. As you wiped the few tears away, you let out a quiet huff, running your hand through your hair. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?" your boyfriend asked tiredly before yawning. "Nothing. Just had a bad dream." "Lie down," he ordered and you complied, snuggling into him. He drifted a hand over your tresses, tucking your head under his chin. "Talk to me." "... I had a dream about my family. I saw my mum smile as she watched my dad play with us. I loved all of them-- I still do. I miss them so much," you whispered, and he listened closely, like he always would when you would confide in him. You let out a small laugh before carrying on, "I remember one time, me and my brothers were riding our bikes around the neighbourhood but I fell off mine, grazing my knee and I cried. We were in front of our house. They laughed at me and my dad came outside to help me, telling them off. He picked me up and treated my injury as my brothers watched, jealous because of the attention I was getting. I saw them and smirked. After that, they were even more kind to me and we played together, as we always did." "It sounds like you had fun every day. You're lucky." "How am I lucky? They were all killed by a single villain when I was only ten years old. How is that lucky? I had to live with my aunt for six years and I hated it. She acted as if I wasn't there, she would smoke and drink in front of me, and she didn't have any children so I just sat in my room. I didn't have any sort of entertainment. Tell me how I'm lucky?" you slightly raised your voice, so a cough followed soon after. "Shh. Don't strain your voice." You quietly wept, not wanting Kirishima to notice, but of course, he did. This time, though, he didn't point it out, he just soothed you with whispers and kisses. "Promise me that you won't leave me." You gazed up at him, your orbs glossy as tears welled up again. He kissed the tears away and leaned his forehead against yours before replying, "I promise."

[egyptian-sun-god]

Never Have I ever S2

SPOILERS.....Turn back now I’m serious.

I’m waiting....

Okay cool your fault at this point

I was fairly critical of NHIE S1, I won’t lie. And I’ll be real I still stand by the fact that NHIE S1 was fairly meh overall. 

But holy shit, they knocked this season outta the world man. The show really really found its proper footing this season. They were smart to keep the cheating for only two episodes and explore the repercussion for the other 8. 

1.Devi Vishwakumar.

Let’s start with the main character.  Devi still does immensely fucked up shit this season. Dating two boys and have them find out in the MOST humiliating way possible. Yikes. Being a really sucky friend to Aneesa and starting that rumour about her (inadvertently) and pretending to her. Stalking her mother and being possessive of her. The really awful apology that was pretty self centred, a bit not good. 

 But she really does do her best to improve and I am SO proud of that. She uses her father’s advice and apologizes better to Aneesa, she actually handled the Ben and Aneesa dating WAAAAY better than I’ve seen some people handle things like that. I might’ve blown a fuse if two of my friends had 4 tickle fights and had major PDA sessions when we were trying to do a group project. Like she handled that shit fairly well all things considered. Devi actually gets into the beginnings of delving into her trauma and her temporary paralysis and healing from it. I

 really see how the label ‘crazy’ weighs on her and how she blew up with it and the message of destigmatizing mental illness. (Crazy Aneesa and Crazy Devi)  Her properly bonding with her mother and watching videos of her father and remembering/honouring his memory hit REALLY HARD (since I lost many people in my family recently and that fear of forgetting them has been real). Devi is actually beginning to heal from the loss of her father by strengthening the relationship with her Amma. And the slap from Paati was so so needed, it really gave her a better respect of her mother and fixed the problem I had with Devi mouthing off so much to her Amma. I live to see good maamiyar marumagal relationships. Her relationship with Paxton is really good and it gets developed very logically and having her be scared of being pathetic but in the end she accepted her own self worth and stopped chasing after them which was good. 

Overall Devi really blossomed into her own developing person and I actually like her so much more this season. 

2. Paxton Hall Yoshida

I was honestly, like genuinely sad last season he was like 80% eye candy with not much else going for him. Paxton had so much faith as a character and Ms Kaling has really pulled him into such a better person this season. 

Paxton got hit by a car before swim season, lost his ticket to college and wow, got two timed by a girl he liked all in two episodes. If he was salty about that for more than one season I would’ve completely accepted it. Cause that’s a bad public humiliation. 

Paxton episode really really made me love him as a character (honestly more so than Ben) I think because I heard Paxton’s entire worry and irritation that he was being underestimated and no one really expected him to go to college from a friend of mine not more than a month ago. That shit is real, and it hurted my friends a lot that people were really underestimating them and just seeing them as a dumb athlete who has no hope of college. It’s really nice to see Paxton actually want to go to college and learn Japanese American side with his Oji-chan giving him advice and supporting him. And him bringing his grandfather to speak about the internment camps, that seriously do not get spoken about enough.

Also him putting effort and making a genuine effort to work hard and bring up his grades with Devi and therefore bonding with her was really nice to see. I wouldn’t mind them being endgame but Devi does really work a lot better as his pushy Indian mom/best friend/tutor.  And Devi getting mad at him for him expecting him to hold his hand throughout really hit well. Was it deserved yeah. But Devi also did blow him off after promising him to study so his anger is justified there. I’m just kinda vibing with Paxton like coming up and taking a better interest in school and being a full 3D character. And that one scene where he gives the extra credit presentation and Trent high fives the man. Classic. 

Can I also just say, it’s kinda valid that Paxton didn’t want to date her in public. Is it a dick move...yeah? But he’s within his rights to ask and she’s within her rights to deny. And he didn’t press her once she said no, he went along with it. And what Devi pulled on him is awful, and speaking as someone who’s seen popular kid cliques. Reputation really is important. Like what Devi did made Paxton lose face, if he gets back with Devi he ain’t gonna have any respect left in him. And Paxton was pretty right in deciding to not date her publicly, like even in the end he knows that his reputation is shot for what he did. Do we even know if Paxton has friends that aren’t fixated on his social status? Because becoming a social pariah without having any support of friends is gonna hurt like a bitch. Lord knows how Paxton gonna deal with it. I think Trent might be his only homie after the social downfall he will inevitably face. 

I’m just gonna say, Paxton is my favourite now and I’m really rooting for him. Something I decidedly did not do last season. I’m happy Ms Kaling developed him so much and got me interested. 

3. Ben Gross

Ah. Ben. Ben’s not my faaavouriteee.......like he’s fine. But I don’t love him. I can definitely see him and Devi becoming an almost endgame couple though. Especially with S2 ending. 

Ben is fine and he’s pretty developed, especially with his episode in S1 and it was good he took a backseat this season and let everyone else star. I feel like he’ll come back strong next season though. 

Personally do I ship him with Devi? No. I’ve been in a friendship with the similar competitive dynamic as Ben and Devi. And it was terrible. We loved to argue and we got each other’s super brainy side as Devi puts it. But we pushed each other faar too much and even the small things became arguments and each pthers achievements became jealousy. So yeah....I don’t have too much faith in the dynamic due to personal bias, but I’d love to see how it gets handled. 

Also my brother Ben, PDA is a thing and it is common courtesy to refrain from it. Man’s really going at it with Aneesa half the time. But also the moment where Aneesa sort of choked on the presentation and Ben’s irritation at it gave me BAAAD vibes. It feels like while Devi can match him, they might push each other too far, 

4. Kamala 

I LOVE KAMALA. Girl is an ENTIRE vibe. My sweetheart, love of my life. I could go on. I really like her development as well and the banter between her and Nalini. The part where Nalini practically said she looked like a call girl and she was like ippadi potathaan velaila mariyaatha kidaikum. I legit had to pause, scream in laughter for a good few seconds. 

They had such a good story with her and wanting to fight against the fact that they took her work and didn’t credit her and everyone was telling her to like take it bowing. Prasanth’s advice unfortunately checked out to me, because I’ve been told that all my life. My dad says it a lot and I know he doesn’t say it cause’ he doesn’t believe in me, but he loves me and wants my life to be easier and for me to succeed and his experience is that he’s had to deal with things like this and fighting won’t help. So yeah, what Prasanth said did not rub me the wrong way at all and I agreed with it and I’m fairly disappointed about that. I get that she got nervous and had cold feet about marriage but I do hope she and Prasanth can work this out through communication. Because I really don’t feel like Prasanth is the bad guy here. It’s just a miscommunication. 

So yeah, a LOT of Kamala’s storyline continues to really hit me hard. 

5. Nalini Vishwakumar

Nalini really had so much more screentime to blossom. I love that she has a good relationship with Mohan’s amma. It’s wonderful and I love it. Also I was shocked to see the house in Chennai. Like this house...in Chennai. The Chennai I’m used to and the Chennai they are used to are different Chennai’s. Basically wealth gap is crazy as hell and I was lowkey highkey confused if the actually shot this shit in Chennai. But props to the directors for putting some proper Tamil vibes in there. Like the scene where they kaala thottu kumbudurathu (touch the elder’s feet) before they leave for the US is so real and so vibes. I like that they decided to bring paati back. I was like hoping for it.

Also they really went at developing Nalini’s character as a workaholic mom who doesn’t get her daughter. That’s also a really common thing in Indian households with one working parent so I’m happy they portrayed that. I’m happy Nalini actually has a life outside her family portrayed and is still such a typical mother that it hits HARD. I love Nalini and she really developed as a character dealing with grief from Mohan’s death, the wish to move on with Dr.Jackson but knowing that she isn’t ready yet. 

They gave her character a life and proper working outside Devi and it really has shown to develop her character and impact her relationship with Devi. The advice to “just say yes” works with cousins and younger siblings as well, I’ve heard it before and used it..and it saves so much time. Especially with small children. 

(A memory I have is of my younger cousin going on and on about a princess and a castle and fighting a dragon and the witches and so much fantasy shit and ended with do you wanna come? I just clocked off my CCA’s and I had no energy left to question it so I just went yeah sure. Easiest decision, and 10/10 advice. )

6. Aneesa

I’m not gonna lie. I was skeptical of Aneesa and I didn’t like how Devi saw her in the trailer. But Aneesa reminds me so much of me....and its killing me. 

Also the scene where she charms the hell out of Nalini and paati ma has literally happened to me before. Most of my Indian friends hate it..because I was raised with a lot more traditional manners with my grandparents so me and my siblings all are old fashioned which parents LOVE. And I really saw that Aneesa charming them and Devi also realizing, Damn none of my friends actually treat my family the way they should be treated, perks of having an Indian friend. 

Also the scene where she gets Devi out of trouble is so so real. Because if you have one responsible friend that you parents trust, you could lie the hell to them, get you homie to back you up and it will work. Personal experience. So yeah, Aneesa character resonated with me a lot.

I also like that she wasn’t just a popular 1D Indian girl but she was genuinely cool and actually had proper issues and development where she gets more open to Sherman Oaks and actually kinda properly rebels against Noor, with having Ben as a boyfriend. 

I feel like Aneesa has a lot more potential for growth, especially with the relationship with Ms Noor and Aneesa acting as a foil to Nalini and Devi’s. Also, I feel like Aneesa can grow within her social status at school as well and have Devi maturely handle it. Aneesa I feel will really really challenge Devi’s ability to be mature. 

7. Eleanor and Fabiola’s plotlines

Okay like actually, major props to Ms Kaling man. This show touches so so many teen issues in one goddamn show. Emotionally manipulative relationships. So SO good. A lot of newer age relationships have a much more subtle and dangerous line of abuse that’s hard to find out. Like honestly it took me a while to see it as well and I realized oh fuck. oh fuck...I see it it’s bad. They really got the essence of Eleanor’s flamboyance matching with Malcom? (is it Malcolm..fuck it it’s Malcolm now) his “suaveness” and traditionally charming tendency. It made sense and it’s very realistic how Eleanor got played like a damn fiddle. I also again feel that the make up was faar to quick but I really appreciate that Eleanor got her own storyline with her step-mom and understanding of relationships instead of the show hyperfocusing on just Devi. I respect that a lot.  Petition to get a Eleanor narration episode. 

Fabiola’s storyline also was well taken. It’s an interesting added layer to the queer experience and how queerness can be expected to be performative and but really its all about being more of yourself. The idea that queer people don’t owe nobody anything or have to perform an ideal version of queerness and Fabiola struggling with that kinda hit. The part where they talked about her mother learning to support them and being Cricket? Queen/King. Like being trailblazers for the POC community and the LGBTQ+ community having overlapping struggles. Again, I liked that Fabiola was getting more personal screentime and less of her story revolving around Devi’s. 

8. Everything else

I liked that there was more Tamil being casually thrown around. Like the Kamala vaadi to hold the suitcase down as they zipped it together was funny and relatable. The accents were really interesting because I promise you, I had no clue what they were saying sometimes. Nalini’s dialogues in Tamil were like immensely difficult to understand, and my Tamil is fluent. This isn’t a criticism... I’m fairly certain the difference is to do with the regional difference. American Tamil and Malaysian + rural Tamil slang are going to have huge accent differences so there’s no surprise that I found Nalini’s Tamil hard to understand. 

I’m really really really meh about the Kamala and Manish/Mr Kulkarni thing. I still think she should sort it out with Prasanth maybe but I’m open to seeing where it goes. I might change my mind with it. 

This show like any other show had its highs and lows. But I really really do feel that NHIE season 2 managed to truly figure out what the hell it wants to do and developed into a very strong and very entertaining show in terms of representation and diversity. I’m looking forward to season 3. 

[seostudios]

extraordinary

SEOSTUDIOS HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

synopsis. after the king went missing, y/n embarks on a journey to save her father from the kingdom's greatest secret, the fallen prince, who has locked him in his mother’s castle. trading herself in for her father's release, she soon realizes the supposed blood-sucking creature is just an arrogant prince and makes her mission to draw the cold-hearted boy out of his isolation.

pairing. kim doyoung x fem!reader

genre. romance, fantasy, angst, smut

info. prince!doyoung, vampire!doyoung, princess!reader, beauty-and-the-beast!au (with a twist), non-idol!au, medieval!au, prince!ex!jaehyun, brother!jaemin

warnings. mentions of blood and arranged marriage, alcohol, explicit language, unprotected sex, bondage, a really bad sex scene ugh

wc. 5.2k

an. hi happy halloween! i promised ‘angel’ for my halloween special but i feel like wizards were boring for halloween (no hate) but a beauty and the beast au with a vampire twist sounded sexy.. so i hope you enjoyed this romance au there a smut scene but i’m not proud since i have to pee rlly badly and wrote this in a rush (LOL) i hope the cover tricked u! it’s supposed to give a ‘blank’ theme... yk anyways ill try writing more tysm bye i love you all think of this as a halloween special + 700 special mwhamwah

The long curtain that draped over your bay windows had the same orange hue to the morning light, every morning a perfect sunrise. Reminding you of the sleepless nights spent just to get a view of the sun as it illuminated the blue as if it were igniting the most miraculous flame. Throwing the large duvet that once covered your canvas, you quietly tip-toe out of your shared bedroom with fiance and future king, Jaehyun, not trying to wake him yet.

By the time you're finished looking presentable to the outside world, you make your way down towards the kitchen. There was only a week before the wedding, so the castle was a little hectic. Seeing the tailor and his assistance run in an out the front gates, the chefs coming from far and wide to bake you the most flavoursome cake out there. The wedding was a big deal. I mean between merging kingdoms and scoring the most eligible bachelor in the land... It was huge! Jaehyun was known in his kingdom for his selfless actions, but elsewhere, it was his dashing looks. Although he still hasn't managed to swoop in and steal your heart, you had no choice but to let him believe he did so for the sake of your future.

"Princess!" The chef Johnny calls. He noticed you wandering out of your suite after using the restroom and just had to get some small talk done and possibly put in a good word for his close friend about to seal the deal with you. "Oh! Hey Johnny," You greet, flashing him a toothy grin. "It's almost the big day..." He exclaimed. Wow, he seems more excited than me, you think to yourself. "Right. I'm nervous," You confess, your frown now replacing the award-winning smile. Which didn't go unnoticed by Johnny. His eyes, which were once trained on you, shoot up to look behind your shoulder. "Speak of the devil!" He shouted, shooting you a couple glances before running over to Jaehyun, who has just woken up.

Now at the dining table, you and Jaehyun sit accompanied by his parents. "So, Y/N" His mother starts in attempts to spark a conversation. You shot your head up to listen in on what she has to say, "Did you know Jaehyun has an older brother? Doyoung." Silence. You all sat in an awkward stillness, glances between Jaehyun and his father, worried. "No, I didn't. Is he coming to breakfast?" Her cheerful demeanour was quick to shapeshift into a dejected expression. "He moved to Paris to expand his corporation." The hidden truth was that he didn't move at all. He was banished. This tall tale is told all over the lands, but it was just a tall tale about the prince, was it not?

Once upon a time, there lived a dashing prince. His name was Doyoung. Despite having all the money and power in the kingdom, it still felt like there was nothing left for him there if he still lingered in his younger brother's shadow. So the prince ventured off, hoping to find someone who'd appreciate him for himself. That's when he met the great sorcerer, Minyeon, known by only the wicked. She was a sly witch, moving only on the outskirts of the lands. Aching to pounce on any punk in the vicinity. Therefore when she noticed the prince and came to realize his selfish needs, she casts a spell. "You're stuck like this until you find peace eternally. Is being a greedy spoilt brat all you need to be a prince? Maybe you should be more like Jaehyun."  Those were her last words before disappearing into the woods. Doyoung quickly ran back home. Calling every wizard in town to inspect him. He was now cursed to live life as a blood-sucking monster unless he finds this peace. "You know we can't." His mother started. Doyoung's heart tore, hearing the crack in her voice. "I... I know Mother. I'll be quick." He said before finished packing the briefcase full of necessities. "I have a castle." She spits out, handing him a map. "Stay there. I will visit as much as I can," And it was the truth. She visited for the first few months until he started to change. The violent evil nature of a pure vampire, taking its place in Doyoung. That was no longer her son, and she couldn't risk venturing far to walk right into her death. 

And that was Doyoung’s story.

It's been about three years since the incident, and villagers still ponder on whether it's fiction or not, but with the heartbreaking look on Jaehyun's mother's face this morning, I think you got your answer. Acknowledging the elephant in the room, you and your future mother-in-law finish up and head into the fitting room with the tailor, leaving Jaehyun with his father. "He knows-" Jaehyun started, quickly being cut off by his father. "That's why we limited guests on such short notice and doubled the guards. He won't be able to get in." He affirmed before the sound of the chair screeching slowly, and someone sitting was heard. The two look down towards the end of the table. "I won't be able to what?" Doyoung said, throwing his feet on the table. 

死

"I really do think you look magnificent." The designer, Taeyong, chirped adjusting your corset. "Taeyong honey, don't you think that's a little tight? Y/N looks like she's turning blue." Jaehyun's mother jokes. Ever since you've departed from the boys at breakfast, she's been jumpy. Was she expecting someone? "Alright, here we go! Go take a look, princess." Nodding, you make your way to the large mirror. "Oh my! I love it! Thank you so much!" Doing a little twirl, as Jaehyun's mother cheers, showering you in compliments.

“So.. Y/N darling... How are things with Jaehyun?” She asked helping you undress after Taeyong exited. “What do you mean?” You asked curious, what could she mean? “You know this isn’t exactly a love marriage...” She hears a sigh from you. “I mean I like him!” Making sure you let her know that first, you turn away from the mirror to face her, “But not like that, he’s a good friend... Nothing more.” The confession left the still room feel like a ghost town. Jaehyun’s mother hands you a heartwarming smile, assuring you it’s okay. “You know, I think you’d be fit with my eldest son, Doyoung.” Smiling to herself she takes a loose strand of hair and places it behind your hair. “A-Are the rumo-” She nods. They were true, he really was a vampire. “May I ask where he is? Do you visit? How is he? Does he look like the vampires from the books?” All your questions erupt at once, causing her to burst into a fit of laughter. “Well where do I start?!” She says more to herself. “He’s in a castle, past the river banks and through the woods. Safe, hopefully. He’s also quite charming-” 

A knock at the door, grabs both of your attention. "Come in," You said, but something was off. An uneasy feeling turns in the pit of your stomach as the doorknob unwinds to reveal Jaehyun. "You can't be in here! Shoo!" His mother scolded, but Jaehyun raised his hand to silence her. "Y/N, your father."

“He’s what?!” You shout. “Been abducted? By who? He’s on everyone’s good side.” You state clearly. “It’s not his fault. It’s our fault.” He confessed, looking down at the marble tiles of the hushed room. “My brother, Doyoung. Took him.” A gasp is heard from his mother as her hand goes to rest on her chest to feel her heart. “Is Doyoung here?!” She asked. He shook his head. “He showed up and told Dad and I the news but left afterwards. He told me to pass the news over to you.” Jaehyun began to massage his temples, this was really getting to him. “He wants you to meet him at his castle to - discuss - your father's return to his kingdom.” And in a blink of an eye you were gone. Jaehyun’s mother didn’t give you exact directions but you could find out where his castle is. “What are you doing!? Stop her!!” His mother cries, “She doesn’t know what she’s heading into!” Before she was able to run out to you, Jaehyun stops her in her tracks. “This is not our battle, Mother.”

Running into your barn, You mounted Ivy, about to venture off possibly to your death. You were determined though, no matter what; you need your father back. Not for you but for the sake of your kingdom. “Come on girl, we’re gonna save Papa.” Ivy was originally a horse for the knights but it seemed like the two of you had more of a sibling bond than you and your younger brother, Jaemin... Not that you guys hated each other! The river banks were a easy to trot by, the boat passengers and fishers greeting you, and the woods wasn’t as dark and ominous as Jaehyun’s mom put it to sound like. 

There you were. Past the river banks, through the woods and you were led to the front gates of Doyoung’s castle. The castle was more ancient than any bone left in soil. The stone pathway pitted and scarred, looking up you notice it's tall walls, trees surrounded the castle. The large pillars, narrow, round towers dominate the skyline of this massive castle and are connected by enormous, firm walls made of cobblestone. Spooky was an understatement. You dismount Ivy and tie her loosely to an old log. “Stay here girl, I’ll be back with Papa.” Pushing the rusted gates open you throw your cloak over top your head and run towards the large wooden doors. Letting yourself in you examine the large foyer of the castle, it was much smaller than yours back home but the presence it held was bigger than any king to have walked the lands. Your breathing is rapid and shallow, you can feel your pulse pounding in your temples as you cautiously walked up the steps. "Doyoung?" You call out. A muscle twitches involuntarily at the corner of your right eye, after seeing a shadow swiftly move. He knows you're here. "I'm not scared of you." You spoke tenderly, moreso to convince yourself you weren't. Looking down the narrow hallway someone stands, before you were able to walk towards the figure he heads into a door. Now on a wild goose chase after Doyoung you reach a grand hall full of chambers, a dungeon. “Let me out you bastard!” An infuriated voice shouts. It’s your father. “Papa?! Where are you?” You cry running around the zigzag chamber. “Y/N? Over here Y/N!” He shouts once more, why were you here? 

There he was, there they were. Your father was on his knees, gripping the bars calling out for you, but beside him standing tall, he was a slender and well built man with pretty, unturned lip. His pale skin sparkled in the moonlight, his dark eyes matching the night sky above perfectly. Doyoung. Although your heart picked up at his astonishing facial features, you were enraged on why he would abduct your poor father. “Let him go at once!” You demand. He kisses his teeth and dangles a pair of keys above your head. “Only if you stay.” 

“I’ll be fine Papa.” You assure your father at the front gates of the castle. “Take Ivy and head home. I’ll be okay.” You embrace him once more, “But the wedding?!” Your eyebrows furrow. “It’s cancelled, why don’t you get Jaemin to merge with Jaehyun’s little sister, she just came of age and she’s arriving from Thailand tomorrow.” And thus the decision was made. You were now a resident at Doyoung’s, and your wedding was cancelled.

Sitting on the last step of the spiral staircase you watch Doyoung pace around the foyer, speaking to someone in a room. Didn’t he live alone? Getting up to explore the castle you were stopped by Doyoung, he’s quick on his toes. “Let me bring you to your room.” He said, his hand reaching out to you. Charming Slapping his hand you walk past him up the stairs towards whatever room you would make out to be your own. He trails behind you, “Feisty, I-” “I was talking to your mother about you earlier. I’m not dumb, I know it all.” Your began, opening a room door. “I want this room.” You demand, even if you showed him your stubborn side a little, it was fine. He did kidnap your father. Doyoung hums “Okay. Dinner in five” He chimed, before heading back down. The rest of the night was nothing out of the ordinary, other than the awkward glances to one another at dinner. In attempts of sparking something between the two of you Doyoung asks, “Did you enjoy dinner?” At the door frame of your bedroom. “Yeah,” All was well until you saw him begin to unbutton his dress shirt and head into the closet. “W-What do you think are you doing?” You asked frightened. Why was he undressing in your new bedroom. “Getting ready for bed?” “But don’t you have your own room?” You inquire confused. “You picked my room, so we share.” He replied. There were at least over a dozen bedrooms in this castle and you just had to pick his. “No take backs by the way, now get in bed love.” Kissing your teeth you throw on a pair of pyjamas you found in the closet; assuming it was his. Moving to the side of the bed to make a wall of pillows separating the two of you.

死

“It’s been over three months Doyoung.” This was one of those rare occasions you spoke at dinner. “And?” He questions. “I want to go home.” You stood your ground, it’s been over three months, nearing four and it’s safe to say this dinner was the most you’ve both communicated. “You are home,” He replies, taking a bite of his food. “No, it’s not. I sit in this castle reading books and talking to myself, I’m going mad!” You bark. “You traded yourself in for your fathers release, I can’t let you leave.” He always spoke softly but his words never failed to slice through you. 

Doyoung enters his bedroom, while you were downstairs cleaning up. He reaches into the back of his closet, sliding the clothes on the rack to the side, to reveal a mirror. It wasn’t an ordinary mirror, it was a magic mirror, to help Doyoung communicate with his mother without putting herself in danger. “I thought this was the peace I needed to come back.” He said to himself looking at his reflection. “Peace? This isn’t peace Doyoung.” A voice hollered throughout the still room as the mirror illuminated. “I know it isn’t mother, I can’t seem to find it. I’m trying.” The tension grew thick, he was frustrated. “Find peace in her.” She finally said. Just then, the mirror shatters. “Doyoung?” Your soft voice calls from the closet door. His head spins around as he readjusts the clothing. “What time is it?” He questioned, flaring with energy. “About fifteen minutes to eight, why?” This is where you start growing nervous. Although he’s kept to himself you know he yearned for human blood. “Let’s explore.” He grabs ahold of your hand running down to the front yard. “Wear this.” Handing you a coat he intertwines your hands as the two of you exit the premises. 

“Why are you being so weird?!” You roar demanding answers. “I want our friendship to blossom my love.” He spoke, a pang of guilt hitting him. Your cheeks suddenly kissed pink like the spring rose, the blooming colour so bright against your face. Looking forward,avoiding eye contact with Doyoung you tug his hand forward into the wilderness. “On my way here I remember seeing a bench surround with an ethereal setting.” You babble on the way to the destination. “Really? Would love to see it.” Doyoung replied uninterested. This didn’t go unnoticed by you so letting go of his hand you walk ahead. He catches up but doesn’t grab ahold of your hand. “I apologize.” He said, earning a scoff. “I really am, I’m all ears now.” The pleads went on until you reached the bench where you sat down and pulled out a book. “What’s that?” He asked. “A sketch book.” You reply, opening the book to reveal you artwork. “Whoa, Y/N these are amazing.” Astonished he grabs it out of you hand to flip through them, earning a rather adorable giggle from you, which did indeed cause a crack in Doyoung’s ice cold heart.

Your stay increased and the liking you had towards Doyoung has as well. Now there is never a dull moment at dinner, a new routine of late night walks. In all honesty, Doyoung hasn’t been the slightest interested in you up until last night. “Doie! Look at this, I drew you!” You cheer running over to the boy in his study. “Let’s take a look.” He stood in front of you, his eyes that told stories words couldn't, staring into your shiny orbs, piercing through you. He couldn’t help it, with your collar bones exposed with the large tee swallowing you whole.. You looked appetizing. So when his hand came in contact with your nape, leaning down, his mouth hovering over your neck, about to indulge he hears a whimper. “Doyoung..” He looks up to your frightened figure. However, you weren’t scared of him sucking a little blood out of you, just nervous of how close you were. “Doyoung. It’s okay...” You whispered your doe eyes staring right back at him. But he couldn’t, “I’m not a monster.”

These days Doyoung felt vulnerable around you. The once inhuman arrogant cursed prince acting as like another man. His crave and lust for blood sank and he desired something else, something more attainable at his end now; love. Though his love for you blossomed quickly he was insecure and full of doubt when it comes to confessing. The world seems to be on his side when the two love birds are together, fooling around, but once the tension grew his courage flees the scene. Weeks turned into months with this unbearable love for you; he no longer lusts for your friendship, he needs more. 

You sat on the edge of the king sized bed, gazing out the bay window that peered into the land. Stars shining over top the night sky, appearing like magic at each sunset. Sipping onto the last bit of hot chocolate in your mug you change into a silk night dress Doyoung has purchased for you, since he thought you should have a new wardrobe now that you live with him. Back hitting against the soft mattress you wrap yourself in the thick duvet, closing your eyes to think.

My friendship with Doyoung has really come far these past few nights. Just the other night he cooked me breakfast in bed, which was really thoughtful of him. His egoistic personality fading into a tenderhearted man. Under all the layers from his saddening past, becoming a monster from the storybooks, to his prince status. He was a normal guy. I know he wants to flee this wretched castle and run back home, though he fears what he capable of. How he could hurt his people, or worse, his family. The sinister persona taking over him that cut his bond from Jaehyun. Oh But past all this is a man... You love.

The door creaks and you noticed a disheveled Doyoung enter the room. Must have been up in the study racing his minds to wonder, you believe. “Hey you.” You chirp, to sit up on the bed unknowingly a strap falls from your shoulder exposing your collarbone. “Hello Y/N.” The reply was dry and nonchalant about. But all worries ended when he hops into the bed curling up into himself gathering warmth. You don’t know why but your heart skipped a beat when you glanced over at him, catching his stare up at you. You huff playfully before relaxing into the sheets. The two of you could’ve easily split rooms and been on your way but there was an urge for you to stay in his suite. Maybe it was the thirst to find out who he really was, and why his path was this rough... Or it was because ever since you met at the chambers, your heart always raced around him; no matter the occasion. The room was quiet, sitting in a comfortable silence, both of you awake. Should you tell him? Is this too quick? Were you ready? The questions spring around your mind for a couple seconds before being interrupted by a pleasant surprise. 

Doyoung’s hand makes it’s way to reach yours. The ice-cold finger tips, tracing over your hand. Skinship wasn’t rare but it was never making you consider he felt the same way. Intertwining your hands you turn to face him, to notice he was already looking at you. He wants to confess, he will confess. His mouth opens to speak, but quickly silenced with a pair of soft lips crashing onto him. Knowing his difficulty with words, actions seemed to have spoken better than them. His lips were warm and the taste of bourbon stung your tongue gracefully. Doyoung moves his hands from yours to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You two break apart for air, hesitantly looking at one another. Though his eyes told multiple stories, all you felt as of now was lust and desire. Giving yourself up to him, or how people back home would say; popping the cherry. Lips crash together and it felt like you were walking on air. The way your lips connected with his, molding together like they belonged, his mouth was so warm compared to the rest of him. The small tug onto your lips erupting a quiet moan is what gets him started.

死

You awoke to arms barricading around you, keeping your bare body close. The morning light shining through the closed blinds creating a funky pattern on the duvet. Your hands drawing funny little shapes on Doyoung's bare chest. Last night sure was hectic, he's got a lot of stamina for someone who claimed to be tired. Doyoung lets out a whine, “So bright in here..” He groans, covering his face. It took a minute to register what was going on and why you were naked and in his arms, but relaxed when he follows up on what went down last night. He could freely express his love physically and verbally. “Oh my god, I love you.” He says ecstatic. You mumble ‘I love you too’ to him before he goes on yapping, “Mother was right.” He whispers, “She was right. You’re my peace. My key to a happy life.” A soft smile dances on your lips after hearing those words, he truly did love you... But because his mother told him so? “Your mother?” You inquire, but he’s quick to reply. “She told me to find peace in you; at first I doubting her sanity because you were quite annoying-” “Hey!” You slap his chest, however he defends himself. “But I can’t live without your chitter chatter now.” He expressed.

Doyoung combs his hair, you cleansing beside him. “You got tanner honey.” You say pinching his skin lightly. “I did?” His doe eyes looking into the mirror at his skin. Then panic arose, “Quick Y/N! Fetch me some blood.” He says while you blankly stare back at him. “You don’t have any blood.” He grabs your wrist. The veins visible. “I.. I don’t want blood.” A sardonic laugh escapes. “I have an idea” He said patting your head lovingly. What could he have in mind? You hum, signaling him to continue as you dry off. “Let’s get married.” If you saw yourself right now you probably would’ve been convinced that your jaw was touching the ground. Nonetheless, life is a risk. Why not? “Okay.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The once feared blood sucking monster, was now back to being an ordinary prince. “I heard my father didn’t let our poor little sister get married..” He whispers into your lips. “Two weddings have been cancelled, let’s help them out.” Grabbing your hand he leads you towards the east end of his castle. You never ventured out there, quite creepy if I do say so myself. Digging into an old box he pulls out an off the shoulder wedding gown with embroidery on her bodice. Rhinestones and pearl beads were sewn on the gown. "It's beautiful," You gasp in awe. "It was my mother's gown. I want you to wear it now." He said handing it over. “Bring it in hand, let’s get ready there. Our big day is tomorrow isn’t it?” He smirks, taking you in hand to walk down to the foyer. “I called someone for us.” “You did?” Just then, you two hear the neigh of a horse (or two) in the distance approaching. A carriage arrived on time to bring you two home. “I can’t believe we’re going home.” You start. “Does this mean we’re gonna stay there because I’d rather not actually.” The confession was vague but Doyoung knew where you were getting at. The privacy was amazing, and hearing the sound of birds in the early morning instead of villagers was a blessing. “Me too.” He replied, helping you on top of the carriage. 

And off you go.

Once you arrived you were surprised people recognized you, and the prince himself. Whispers and rumours already begun and you’ve barely made it through the main city. “There it is, our chapel.” You joke, pointing towards the castle, earning a little laugh from him. He was no longer a vampire, and it frightened you, was getting you to fall in love with him just to go back to normal his only goal? Or was he truly head over heels for you as you were for him. Many of actions reminded you of how he loved you. “Whoa did you see that? They just let us slip by..” He whispers to you after seeing the guards let you pass by happily. “It’s cause we live here,” You replied all giddy over his childish antics when it came to being home, he was thrilled. He quickly rushed towards the the throne room knowing his parents would be there and you rushed behind after setting the suitcases. “Mother! Father! I’ve come home!” He shouts in the still room. Gasps heard from various maids and guards. “I-I’ve found peace...” He pants. “Peace?” His father questioned, his mother correcting him, “He found love.” Doyoung shares a smile before walking up to the throne, “I’ve been gone for quite awhile, haven’t I?” He snickers before embracing his parents. “Brother?” A voice hollered through the room, follow by whispers. He turned to see his loving siblings. “Jaehyun...” Running towards him his smile fades. “I’m sorry,” The apology was wholehearted, from what Jaehyun knew; Doyoung was a loving brother. But all was false, back then he was a selfish beast, not caring once of who he hurt. Now, he was back and came work up from his mistakes. Jaehyun pulls his elder brother into a hug, as he sobbed quietly into his shoulder. 

The door opens to reveal a princess; you. “You all know Y/N.” Doyoung says, grabbing your hand. At first, you don’t realize Jaehyun there, but he makes himself known. “Yes, I was engaged to her not long ago.” Shivers ran down your spine, how could he be so cold and straightforward. Did he actually love you? The straight brooding face quickly curved into a grin, flashing his dimples. “I’m joking. You two actually look like your in love, Y/N and I looked like brothers.” Laughter erupts within the room everyone catching onto the joke one by one before silencing. Doyoung clears his throat “I will be marrying Princess Y/N and merging our kingdoms into one.” It was nice to see his father smile, it was rare. This was good news and it seems like all is working out for the two of you. “Very well, how does next week sound?” He said, watching you two nod eagerly.

死 

It’s been three hours since your vows have been exchanged, and you are now rocking a stone as large as your pupil on your wedding finger, while slowly being undressed by your husband. “Why is this thing so hard to take off,” He complained right as he gets the hang of it. Your lips molding with one another in perfect harmony. It's a slow process you want to enjoy, but most of all you want to pleasure your new husband. A gasp escapes your mouth feeling Doyoung gently lifts his hands up to palm your clothed core, the gentle rubbing before going underneath the thin material to your glistening folds. He hushed your with kiss going down your torso, til he reached right above your core. In a blink of an eye, you see yourself nude and legs sprawled out with Doyoung’s face between your legs. Licking a stripe between your folds, sucking gently on your clit. “So wet...” He murmurs under his breath, before diving in. If you thought your first time with Doyoung was hectic, you’re in for it tonight. Now hands tied behind your back by your own wedding veil you stuff your head into the pillow, screaming his name. “Oh my god! Oh my god! R-Right there! Harder!” You cry, curling your toes ass he thrusts into your core. Your hair bunched up into Doyoung’s fist, keeping you two steady as he penetrates into you. Coming close to your orgasm you arch your back in anticipation; this doesn’t go unnoticed. Doyoung comes forth, hot breath and groans loud and clear in your ear. Reaching down he finds your bud and rubs harshly onto it, feeling you clench around his length. A squeal leaves your mouth, “I’m cumming!” You cried, digging your face in the pillow. Just when you felt yourself relaxing into the pillow, you feel a hot liquid coat your pink walls and Doyoung pulling out

死

The sound of the kids playing rings in the background as you sip on a cup of coffee your husband, Doyoung brewed earlier this morning. He comes to sit beside you on the abandoned bench in the forest, memories flooding off our many escapes to this very bench as kids. His hand reaches to caress your pregnant belly. “Number three.” He said playfully as you slap his hand away, “His name is Taehyun, not Number three.” He chuckles, “A beautiful name from his beautiful mother.” Doyoung says, gently raking his fingers through your long locks of hair. “I love you so much,” He whispers, bringing his hand to your cheek before kissing the top of your nose. “I love you too I guess,” You shrug, covering your grin with the book you held. “Youjin and Minhyun are still in the garden, shall we go in...” His eyes trail the vicinity, before catching your kids who were sitting in a field of flowers. “Min! Jin! Me and your mother are going to head inside for a snack! Stay close!” He shouts over the kids who just send him a thumbs up. Eagerly, Doyoung stood up grabbing your hand pulling you gently towards the castle. “What a child,” You mumble before heading in.

© seostudios, 2020.

[thewindsofsong]

Liu Sang has a brother and is also 12 when the fire happens

My angst brain has been going again regarding what Liu Sang’s relationship with his brother would look like and I also was thinking about how Liu Sang could be a part of the base dmbj series.

This is the result. I am planning on writing out more of this, but I wanted to at least post this first part before I lost motivation. Let me know what you think?

----------

The fire happens when Liu Sang is only 12. His little brother is only 8 years old and they’re both scared. Liu Sang had forced his way out of the restraints his “parents” had put him in and managed to get himself and his little brother Liu Yang out of the house before the flames overtook everything. Liu Yang only had some smoke inhalation, but Liu Sang got some 1st and 2nd degree burns in the process. They get taken to the hospital, but Liu Sang has many Bad Feelings regarding Stepmother’s family and bugs out.

Now homeless and desperate to not fall under the custody of his step mother’s family, he takes the both of them to try and live on the streets. The minimal training he received from his shifu is enough to pickpocket unsuspecting tourists  and occasionally steal from corner stores, but his brother still needs some kind of education and food and shelter. His own wounds are barely treated, burns scarring terribly with lack of treatment on his left shoulder.

He also does everything he can to keep the truth of what happened to their family from Liu Yang as best he can. He barely wants to accept it himself that their guardians tried to burn him alive and blame it on him, let alone subject Liu Yang to that horrifying revelation at such a young age. He also takes them far away from the province where they’re from to try and escape as much notice as possible. The attention the fire brought would make them too identifiable if they stuck around so they go south, hitchhiking and blending in with other families as best they can. 

After a few months, Liu Sang starts getting desperate. He’s still a kid himself, but he feels responsible for making sure his half brother gets the best life he can, but he doesn’t understand things like education standards.The best he can do is buy books and try to teach Liu Yang himself while also trying to get enough money for food and new clothes. He hears about an antique shop that has expensive items and little staff and decides to try his luck stealing an item to sell for a lot of money. He gets into the store at the same time when Wu Xie has just come back from the events of book 3 (need to do more research). Wu Xie catches Liu Sang red handed in his attempted theft because he’s inexperienced, hungry, and probably in pain. It takes all of 2 seconds for Wu Xie to realize that the thief he’s caught is a desperate, hungry kid and decides not to call the authorities and just talk to Liu Sang instead.

Liu Sang just about has a panic attack when he’s caught, but then this handsome, kind stranger sits him down at a table, puts a glass of juice and a snack in front of him and tries to gently get him to talk instead of yelling at him. Liu Sang devours everything in front of him and Wu Xie gets even more worried. After a little bit, Liu Sang starts telling him little bits of information like: he has a sibling, they’ve been living on the streets for a few months, and he doesn’t want to be found. Wu Xie doesn’t want to pressure this kid too much and tells Liu Sang that he and his sibling are welcome  to come to his shop and have a meal on him whenever they need one. Liu Sang leaves that day with a small chunk of cash and the impression of that  kind man’s smile allowing him into his home with no strings attached. 

Maybe a week or two later, Liu Yang catches a cold. Its not a bad illness persey, but the two of them have been crashing in whatever abandoned properties/back allies  they can find and the weather is getting wetter and colder. When Liu Yang faints, Liu Sang panics and brings the two of them back to Wushanju in tears. Wang Meng  and Wu Xie are overwhelmed at the frankly pathetic bundle at their door and do their best to help out. An hour later, Liu Yang has had some cold medicine, a warm bowl of soup, and been put to bed. Liu Sang is convinced to have some of the same soup and a warm shower. While dropping off towels or something, Wu Xie gets a glimpse of the burn scars on Liu Sang’s arms and is horrified. After making sure Liu Sang also goes to sleep he immediately starts researching online and finds one sensationalized news story about a family that was burned to death by the eldest son out of jelousy of his step family. The children are missing and most suspect dead.

More stuff happens and when Wu Xie asks about what happened to his family, Liu Sang, after months of holding himself together finally cracks and tells Wu Xie everything that happened, from his stepmother convincing his dad to force a paternity test, the results that he’s sure were altered, the fire they started and planned on blaming on him, the desperate struggle to get out with his brother. Then, in the hospital, hearing the rumors that were already starting to spread that he was the one to start the fire and deciding that he had to run, but also not liking the way he could hear the way his stepmother’s family was talking about Liu Yang and how they’d use him to get to their father’s wealth and how they spoke badly about Stepmother for failing to get rid of him.

Wu Xie is shocked and horrified at first, then resolves to take care of the Liu brothers. Realizing that he doesn’t know the first think about family law, calls up Ershu for advice.

[fucker-anon]

Puppeteer Headcanons

K so this mans has been living in my head rent free since I first laid eyes on them (like 2013) so here are my headcanons about their backstories, personalities, and more. Some are inspired by the original stories and lore, some are inspired by other bloggers, some are me self-projecting. Warning there are mentions of dark themes so keep caution. Also i am not a writer, (im sorry) @creepy-bi-day enjoy!!

Puppeteer~

Backstory: 

Puppeteer was born as Jonathon Blake on July 23, 1974

Mother was Hispanic, dad was American. He grew up speaking Spanish and English. He also never really got along with both sides of the family cause he’s mixed (they didn’t like that). They kinda preferred his siblings.

had 4 younger siblings (3 girls, 1 boy). He was 4 years older than the second child.

ever since he could walk he was obsessed with musical theater. For a while his family was able to Johnny to theater camp. Stopped after the 3rd child was born due to financial reasons

parents were working full time to take care of their family. meant Johnny was basically acting like a 3rd parent. good news was he was able to take care of all 4 of them and meet their basic need of being fed, staying clean etc. bad news it meant that he was taking care of them 24/7 and was constantly tired and not taking care of himself. Started to develop symptoms of depression, but couldn’t get help due to the stigmas around mental health + he’s a guy.

got worse in highschool when his work load increased and he wanted to do more in drama and music but couldn’t cause he had to take care of his siblings. He also didn’t make many close friends except for one girl in his drama class Erma. 

Erma was his best friend and they started dating in their second year of highschool. She helped him as much as she could with his mental health, their studies, and even helped babysit some days. They brought out the best in each other. 

Erma loved dance and wanted to become a ballerina, but her parents tried to keep her focus on studies. They did allow her to take theater which she also loved. Her parents were very strict and controlling so she had to hid her relationship.

It wasn’t until the second child turned 13 (johnny was 17), when she started to help out more with the other three siblings (12f, 9f, 7m). Thanks to her help and now they were in a better financial position, johnny was able to join plays and bands which had afterschool practices.

He was really good. He discovered he was born with perfect pitch and was able to get the lead in a play in his final year. This was also when he was able to score a scholarship so some of his uni fees would be paid for.

he decided to major in theater and wanted to go on Broadway or at least become a drama teacher

however when apply for uni, Erma’s parents discovered their relationship and they offered Erma a choice, break up with johnny or else they wouldn’t pay for Erma’s schooling. They hated johnny mostly due to racism and the fact that he wasnt going into a “stable career”. Erma choose to break up with Johnny but didn’t want to tell him these reasons cause she knew that it would upset him. So instead she told him that she’s fallen out of love and wanted to break up.

Johnny agreed mostly to make her happy, but this started his spiral downwards.

Johnny didn’t have any friends other than Erma, he also went to uni in a different city so he didn’t have his family there. His depression got really bad, and he ended up isolating himself and failing first term. He decided to kill himself via hanging. Problem is he wasn't heavy enough to kill himself right away, so he was suffering for hours. 

He spent his last few hours allowing himself to finally “be selfish” and allowed himself to be angry at his family, Erma, and his overall life.

due to this anger, he was able to come back as a ghost, wanting others to feel the same pain as him.

when he came back he was able to change his body into his idea of a perfect vessel, some improvement were making himself taller, better hair, clear face, smooth voice, bigger dick.  and now feeds off of negative energy

Personality:

cold-hearted, cunning, manipulative, a smooth talking, somewhat charming. this is the very carefully crafted version of Puppeteer, He’s the guy who could talk you into doing anything, mostly stuff like jumping off a bridge

however once you get close to him, you see more of Johnathon than puppet. He is very protective of his close friends, will fuss over them and scold them if they aren’t taking care of themselves

good luck getting there tho. After Erma he really had a hard time opening up to ppl due to his fear that they will all leave him at one point. 

Powers:

he feeds off of negative energies, the more trauma the better (finally imma a snack), so he usually influences his victims into a deep depressed state where they off themselves. However once he started hanging out with the creeps (mansion au), he really didn’t need to do that since everyone is a lil fucked up. He just feeds off a little bit of everyone, so that no one is really affected. At this point, he probably has enough energy to outlive the fucking queen

He’s a ghost so he can levitate at most like 10 m above the ground, and if he focuses, he can go through walls and become invisible. 

he has golden strings due to the ectoplasm inside of him (make his eyes and mouth glow to). This strings are like limbs, They are tough to break but if you do its gonna hurt him a lot. They can extend up to 60 ft, and are about 1 cm thick. 

Fun Facts (cause idk how to categorize these)

lots of trauma, need therapy. he feels a lot of shame for what happened and only opens up to his very close friends. again born in 70′s, theres the toxic masculinity and some internalized homophobia. 

still a theater kid!! love musicals and can still sing and play guitar. His vocal cords are a lil more sensitive cause the whole hanging thing, but as long as he warms up, can has the range baby. also has Macbeth memorized

can still cook. while he doesn’t like his past and doesn’t need to eat. He wrote down all of the recipes he knew and will sometimes make them again

dick is 6.5 inchs soft 7.5 hard, i know y’all wanted to know. if also like 6′2 tall. tall big boi

i hc him as pansexual. yea he rather died again than admit that he loves someone, but he won’t care about gender. he still is cis tho.

he does fuck. not often but occasionally. slightly lower sex drive than average 

grunge king. he grew up in poverty and he great at diy. very leans more punk grunge but can be soft grunge depending on his mood. love beanies and his hair is a little longer than chin length with lots of layers. He is tempted to shave off the sides of his head tho. also has grunge and punk music on his playlists.

bad with tech. like the opposite of ben. gets called an old man since he couldn’t figure out how the tv remote works.

he doesn’t grow facial hair, doesn’t like the look.

acts like he’s too proper to cuss, but he does.... a lot

experienced some racism while growing up so he does say ACAB

probably has some piercings or tattoos or both 

still is depressed, has some tough days, but doctor ej gets him pills to help and he has a good support system

shit this was a lot so Helen is next with another post. ill get into their friendship and relationships with other in a whole new post if yall like it. someone tell me if this gives joy cause i could write an essay on this man

[reversecreek]

✵ zloane , bravier , nyla and sean

ZIGGY & SLOANE

their first impression of your muse:

sexy. tugged on her hair literally the first time he saw her hadn’t even had a conversation bt was just like target? located. going? ✈️ annoy her. probably initially just thought she was only at the skate park bc sean was n was like 🙄 then she cld actually skate n he was like 😏 liked that she gave him shit. found it funny pushing her buttons. liked her eyes. probably was like wtf is in the fuckin water in this town yo why all my friends got hot sisters that shit aint right tryna make me a dog....... not that he was even. phased by betraying those boundaries bt. still. i won’t lie his main first impression was probably jst damn bit hot when she glares at me like that. KJHFSGKSJHGKGHSFKGH

current impression:  

knows her a little more than he likes to know people. favourite person to argue w. can possibly skate better than him bt if she said so he’d be like “ur off ur fuckin tits man” n then practice secretly on his own for hours that night n get 9457295 scrapes. doesn’t like talking abt her dad like him so one time he put a firework in his mailbox n never admitted it was him. has reactions to youtube videos tht make him snort. quite funny in general rly. drinks a lot not that he can judge it’s just sometimes he notices n once he even snatched her cup n drank the rest so she couldn’t. played it off as their typical fuckery bt he isn’t sure what that feeling was. hasn’t been concerned often enough to know it by name. finds her hot at inappropriate moments like when a movie chara’s dying n he’s meant to be sad. finds her hot when she pisses him off too. thinks mayb she likes the excuse to hold onto him when she rides on his vespa but he kind of likes it too so he’s not about to call it out bc “he isn’t about that deep shit”. 

are they attracted to your muse?:  

KFJHGKJGHFGKFHSGKSHGKSFGH. imagine i was jst like no <3... yes. he likes to act like he’s less so than he is bt it’s obvious.

something they find frightening about your muse:

i wouldn’t say it frightens him bt sometimes he catches her looking at him a certain way n it unsettles him but he doesn’t know why. usually just pretends he didn’t catch it.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

he likes her short hair he’s always ruffling it n tugging on it. whenever she hs bumps n scrapes n bruises from falling off her board n getting back on over n over again jst never giving up or giving a fk. when she acts like she isn’t jealous.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

umm. no. he’s an asshole. KGJSHFKGHSKFHGSKFGHKGH. sighs.

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

no..... sees that as dangerous territory wouldn’t wna blur the lines. looks away.

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

baddie. FKGJHSKGHFGSFHGSKGHSFKHG. demonic (when they’ve had a fight). 

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. he loves to argue w her but it never feels that Real u know... more like flirting. even when they’re rly pissed off. wld never enter that territory he hates shit like tht w a passion. cue round of applause from the audience for this absolutely low bar.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

i feel like they’re not rly huggy people...... ziggy probably puts his arm around her a lot tho he loves doing that. hs kissed her more times than he can count too n doesn’t plan on stopping

BRADLEY & XAVIER

their first impression of your muse:

funny. mean in a more digestible way than she was used to. he had barbs n she liked the way people winced when they tried to swallow his company. when she got paired w him for a class project she met his eyes across the room n he didn’t quickly look away like most ppl. something abt that intrigued her. a sharp fingernail inside her head kept having to itch at something n she realised it was the urge for him to call her a bad name. this weird craving to hear an angry word inside his mouth just for her. she used to think that’s what someone wanting her was like. still does sometimes. this both pissed her off n caught her attention which is a bit of an accomplishment fr someone who gets bored by everyone n everything.

current impression:  

his heart’s more good than she expected. it felt a bit like having a cat drop a dead mouse at ur doorstep that u don’t know what to do with when she realised that. she felt uncomfortably like her mother when she couldn’t get out of his bed bc she was too depressed n that rly made her feel like. ill honestly. he did all the right things but suddenly she just felt sick abt the whole situation which is Not the normal reaction to ur bf caring about u but bradley doesn’t understand ppl caring abt her. felt more like pity. she thinks he’s better off. she misses him sometimes bt then she reminds herself she doesn’t miss people. does a good job of believing it. one of the best ppl she’s dated not that she’d say it.

are they attracted to your muse?:  

yes..... ws probably. unhinged n rabid when they were dating. very good at hiding it now however. cold at the drop of a hat.

something they find frightening about your muse:

that he witnessed her being vulnerable............ literally grosses her out so much like she’d rather die than. anyone see her like that. when they were dating she’d get paranoid her dad wld somehow find out too n smthn wld happen to him for it. it ws definitely weird for her like the fact she even cared enough to consider tht.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

adorable is rly not a word that fits into bradley’s vocabulary GHSFGHSFKGHSFKG bt hm. maybe if he ever tried to tell her what to do one time even casually. she’d b like awww..... u think i do what anyone tells me? that’s so fucking sweet. 

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

in most cases no :/..... however if it was smthn to do w the guys that work for her dad then ya she’d put herself in danger to avoid him being in it.

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

i mean she has in the past bt bradley’s idea of dates is like. starting a bar fight together. getting thrown out of a club n both falling over into trash cans in a dingy back alley. stealing a car. breaking into a random house n fking in a stranger’s bed. fking in the bk of a movie theatre w a horror movie screening. definitely not dinner or anything like tht. she wldn’t now........ they’re not exactly in a place fr that..... 

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

ex. whatever. i know it’s not one word but “some guy”. FGHSKGHFGKSHG >_>

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. she’s a violent person bt not xavier.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

NO hugging...................... she fronts like she wldn’t kiss him bt like. if a discussion got heated n they were in each other’s faces who’s to say. 

NYLA & SEAN

their first impression of your muse:

strange little fella which is a very high compliment. kind of reminded them of an animated turtle come to life in the human realm altho they honestly don’t have an explanation for that it’s just the way their brain works. they love the turtles in finding nemo tho so maybe there’s some sort of correlation. very nice face. they kind of wanted to hold his head like a bowling ball just so they could examine it properly. i feel like when they first met him they probably reached out n smoothed a sticky label onto his forehead that said ‘catfish in chernobyl’ n they had one on their forehead that was blank n then they just wafted a pen mid air n were like ‘wanna play guesses?’ even tho that isn’t the name of the game. as if that was just. a completely normal introduction to someone. FGKHSKHGSFKGHSFKG. feel like sean wld have rolled w that tho so nyla was like :P i like.... if they played another round they’d give sean another sticky label that said ‘the loneliest whale in the world’ n then it’d start a whole conversation abt how nyla thinks they can speak whaleish. (whale spin on elvish). 

current impression:  

sean makes them think of that artificial blue raspberry flavour some popsicles have n how it’s always rly fun when they stain ur tongue. sweet n exuberant n leaves a bright impression. he lets them ride on his skateboard sometimes rolling along being lead by them holding his hand n nyla likes to shut their eyes like they’re a bird sailing above the clouds. one of their favourite things to do especially when the sun’s out. bc of this nyla thinks sean was a bird in his past life but not a greedy one like a seagull or a plain one like a pigeon. maybe a bluebird bc of his eyes. he makes them laugh a lot. they entrusted him to babysit their children (as pictured) in his hair for a whole day and night once n they had lots of fun with him so nyla thinks he’s very trustworthy and kind. he also is rly easy to talk to like they cld randomly be like “i’ve been thinking lately that maybe homer simpson could’ve been a good figure skater” n sean wldn’t look at them like they’ve lost their marbles he’d just go w it. they like his company a lot.

are they attracted to your muse?:  

😏

something they find frightening about your muse:

ummm nothing in particular altho one time when they were rly tripping out bc his eyes are blue n it got them thinking abt the ocean n they always think they can talk to ghosts underwater so they were kind of like. thinking abt ghosts whenever they looked him in the eyes. maybe covered their own w their hands n if sean asked why they told him abt it. suddenly he shut his eyes to make them feel better n it turned into a whole thing where nyla had to lead him around the party like a guide dog.

something they find adorable about your muse:  

his nose. watching him talk to his siblings. his hands.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

😌 yea

would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

yes............ feel like they’d have fun if they went anywhere tbh........ cn imagine them at a fair eating from the same cotton candy n chattering as they point out things. nyla trying to do that hammer game where u make the meter reach the top n lifting the hammer in the air n falling backwards bc it was heavier than they anticipated.... sean yelling like man down man down..... mayb they take a tab n suddenly the fair is so scary they’re like 😳 we’re in danger...

one word my muse would use to describe yours:  

silly (affectionate). sailor (also term of endearment). gnome (same thing again). cool.

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no ur sick....

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

ya to both. jst suddenly had a vision too of nyla being cold one time n clinging to sean from the front like a bushbaby in a hug as he carries her around. suddenly this mode of transportation hs happened more thn once (godmod) (contact my lawyers if u dare bebe) (bitch) (i take it back) (it wasn’t right alli it jst wasn’t right) (pelase forigev m eim shakign)

[tessiete]

“Perhaps, I killed a Jedi and took it from him.” Clumsy fingers beneath sleek synth leather gloves close over the hilt, the silver of it glinting merrily in the grasp of a cold fist. “Impossible,” Lord Vader says. “I am growing tired of your games, boy. I shall only ask once more: who gave it to you?” “I cannot say,” he replies. “Cannot?” says Vader. “Or will not?” “I will not.” His voice is firm, and does not shake. He reaches again for that serenity: a flash of copper hair, [...] of blue eyes.

This is for the writer’s ask where you ask about 500 characters of one of my fics, and I do a deep dive analysis! <3 Thank you for indulging me.

Alright! Better late than never but I’ve been overthinking this because I DO SO LOVE process and meta! So let’s dive in. The commentary.

First of all, let me say that I am a huge proponent of  Korkie Kenobi - and yeah, I’d love to see it canonised - but I think my relationship with this character is a bit more nuanced than people give me credit for.

I was all for arospec/acespec Obi-Wan. That’s the canon I loved. And I was very much not interested in Satine when she first appeared in TCW. But the thing was, once it happened, once they introduced a love interest who played a significant enough role in the story, I felt I could either ignore it...or roll with it. See what it changed. See what it created.

Obviously, the relationship - on a surface level (and tbh probably the only level which the writers considered) is meant to mirror Anakin and Padme. They are the road not taken. Where Anakin and Padme chose each other, Obi-Wan and Satine chose their duties.

This is a...I don’t like this take as an exclusive one, and here’s why: it implies that Padme was also selfish, and made the wrong choice. And yet everything in canon tells us the opposite. She continued working. She jeopardised her career and her reputation to fight against the rise of the Empire. She gave her life trying to prevent it. To put her as a direct mirror of Satine is messy, and to me, cannot justify the creation of Satine enough to convince me.

But I also don’t want to throw away such a huge chunk of TCW narrative. So the other option is to reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally lean in.

At which point, you have to examine not just the immediate symbolism of the relationship, but what each character individually brings. You have to give Satine her own agency. She has to become her own person. Suddenly, all the little bits of information that would normally be overlooked become important. We get so little of her, that everything becomes significant.

And Korkie - who hangs around for a couple episodes, but otherwise has no real importance, suddenly becomes significant.

And that, for me, is the crux of the issue. I hate, hate, hate wasted story elements, and if Korkie is so superfluous as to be negligible, then why did we waste not just money, and time, but story on him. And if he is unimportant, then his relationship to Satine is unimportant. And if that relationship is insignificant, then we lose something integral and revealing about Satine, and now suddenly there is less of her to relate to Obi-Wan, and so anything revealed about him becomes less important, too.

Maybe this feels like a stretch, and maybe it is, but to me, Korkie feels very much like Chekhov’s gun.

And it would drive me CRAZY if he were to go unexamined, and unused.

So this whole story was an examination of “What does Korkie tell us about Obi-Wan that we didn’t know before? And what can Korkie tell us about Vader?”

Because what is Vader if not Obi-Wan’s Fallen son?

This was essentially the thesis for this piece: despite the fact that Vader/Anakin had all of Obi-Wan’s attention, love, and time it is Korkie who truly embodies the legacy of his father.

And while I know that “found family” is a massively important part in the SW universe, I think there’s a larger discussion to be had about other aspects of family. The answer isn’t always that Blood is Bad, and that heritage is shameful or unimportant. Sometimes, where you came from does matter. Some people do find strength, and pride, and hope, and motivation, and support in their origins - even if it’s something they’re divorced from in a physical or temporal way.

For me, Korkie is an opportunity to examine a father/son relationship where neither of the two people have an attachment beyond blood, but -

There is still one of love. 

But instead of Anakin’s selfish, possessive love for his family, both Obi-Wan and Korkie relate to each other, and treat each other with empathy, compassion, and respect. Their love is noble. Selfless. They put entire worlds before each other. And Korkie learned that from his dad.

A personal pet peeve is this constant depiction of kids whose parents are in high stakes jobs feeling neglected or abandoned. How many cop shows have bratty kids acting out because their dad is never home to share dinner? How many medical dramas show the children of doctors lashing out because mom spends more time at work than at ballet class? 

It drives me crazy.

As the child of a medical worker with an on-call schedule, I can say that neither I, nor my siblings, nor any of the other children of my mum’s coworkers have EVER felt neglected. We have never felt unfairly or selfishly entitled to our parents’ time. Because we knew - because someone (another parent? A grandparent? A teacher?) explained to us, and taught us at a young age that what our parents were doing was important. We understood that there were life or death stakes, and that we were very loved, and very much the priority - just not every second. Because sometimes, a life was on the line.

And Obi-Wan Kenobi was fighting to save a galaxy. 

I just cannot in any way believe that a child whose mother was a ruler of a planet plagued with civil unrest and a significant terrorist group, and whose father was a Jedi Master, and in charge of securing peace and freedom across the stars would ever be so selfish, and so uncompassionate as to begrudge the sacrifice of his parents.

Korkie Kenobi is an abject example of selfless love. The kind of love the Jedi aspire to. The kind of love that Anakin absolutely does not understand, and fails to embrace.

And it’s not because Qui-Gon died (Korkie never had that kind of paternal relationship), and it’s not because Shmi was killed (Korkie’s mother also dies tragically), but because of the maturity of the person, and the quality of Korkie’s character.

So to pit a Korkie just coming into his own as an adult, aware of his father, and recently bereaved of his mother against a Vader just coming into his own as a Sith…

That, to me, evoked very interesting narrative avenues to explore.

In this universe, Korkie and Obi-Wan have recently reconnected (Korkie having helped Boil retrieve Obi-Wan from an ill-advised trip to Mandalore where Obi-Wan learned that Anakin had become Vader for the first time), and they both know what they are to each other. Obi-Wan has begged for forgiveness, and given Korkie his lineage, and his legacy in the form of Qui-Gon’s lightsaber - something that Anakin never got. Vader wants it.

So let’s get into it:

“Perhaps, I killed a Jedi and took it from him.” 

This first line - it’s like poetry, it rhymes.

Vader asks where Korkie got the blade, and Korkie replies...in Qui-Gon’s words. He doesn’t know this, of course. It’s just a coincidence. But the remains of Anakin hear it. Anakin recognises it, and it galls him that this boy - Obi-Wan’s replacement of him - seems to be able to claim the lineage he wishes he had. Korkie is stealing his family. And he doesn’t know them. He doesn’t deserve them. He’s not entitled to them the way Anakin is. 

And this is also one of the first things Anakin ever heard a Jedi say. This was the beginning of Qui-Gon’s promise. This is a moment in which Anakin first thought he might find salvation. It was the start of his life, in some ways. This was pure, good, and trusting Anakin Skywalker. 

It’s an absolute anathema to him, now. Now, when he’s lost everything. When he’s filled with doubt, and hate, and fear, and suffering. It makes him angry. Because he doesn’t want to see that he was Korkie. He doesn’t want to see that he had this chance, and blew it. And Korkie - who never had Qui-Gon, who never had Obi-Wan - can speak the words without even (in Anakin’s mind) earning them.

Also, and most obviously, Anakin killed the Jedi. And yet...he didn’t kill Obi-Wan. He did not kill that Jedi, and take this blade.

Korkie is alive. Obi-Wan is alive. Anakin resents it. Obi-Wan should not exist without him. Obi-Wan should have no legacy but Vader. Because Anakin doesn’t. 

Clumsy fingers beneath sleek synth leather gloves close over the hilt, the silver of it glinting merrily in the grasp of a cold fist. 

To me, it was important that we see the weakness of Vader. His hands are not his own. The flesh of Anakin Skywalker is gone, and beneath the serenity of the mask, and the shadow of black, he’s fumbling. Korkie’s wrong-footed him, and he feels young, and insufficient in the face of this boy. This is all about Anakin’s insecurity.

Korkie speaking words he shouldn’t know - speaking in the voice of a literal Jedi - so calm, and so collected (negotiating with the serenity of his father) scares Anakin. He’s hearing and seeing the ghosts of the people he betrayed. 

And the blade itself is merry because it belongs in the hand of Korkie. It knows (and the narrative knows) that it won’t be long in Vader’s grasp. It transcends the dark. It glints, and is optimistic. It’s a symbol of faith. It’s delight in being claimed by Korkie is symbolic of Qui-Gon’s own approval of his legacy. Qui-Gon Jinn chooses Korkie Kenobi.

But the thing is, it’s not because he’s a Kenobi. It’s because he chooses to act, and speak like a Jedi. Anakin fears - and knows - he never received this blade because Qui-Gon Jinn would not approve of what he’s done. This is Qui-Gon’s repudiation of Anakin Skywalker. The blade is laughing at Anakin.

“Impossible,” Lord Vader says. “I am growing tired of your games, boy. I shall only ask once more: who gave it to you?”

And then Anakin answers the same way he did as a child. He is still a selfish, defiant, fearful child. He denies the possibility that Korkie could have killed a Jedi. 

Now, of course, he knows that the Jedi are dead, he knows that Korkie is not a Jedi, and he’s also denying the possibility that Korkie could have done it.

And, more than that, he’s denying the very possibility that Korkie could speak - could somehow know - Qui-Gon’s words. There is no way that this boy should be speaking with that voice. It’s impossible.

It’s a three-fold denial.

As a more technical thing, Vader’s voice was really hard for me to do, because this Vader still had to be recognisable as Anakin. He’s only been Vader for about a year at this point, maybe a little longer, and he’s just been thrown back into his childhood by memory, so the voice had to hit this balance point between Anakin and Vader.

This is an Anakin who uses language to build himself up. He doesn’t quite buy his own authority - it is so easily undercut by an unarmed boy, here, after all - so he makes himself sound like the seat of power...Obi-Wan. He mimics the slightly elevated phrasing of his former master, and condescends, calling him “boy”. He speaks to Korkie in the voice of Korkie’s father. But it’s distorted, and clunky because it is not Anakin’s voice to claim. And he hasn’t had all the practice that the next 18 years will provide him with, yet.

So theoretically, if I did it right, the motivation - the drive of the sentence - is Anakin, but the pattern is an echo of Obi-Wan.

I also think this is probably the third time Vader’s asked Korkie (iirc), and that’s just a classic storytelling technique - things, especially questions, lessons, or events, happen three times. 

Korkie replies differently every time.

“I cannot say,” he replies.

So, at first, Korkie answered a question with a question. He was brash, young, and openly defiant. He replied in the way that Anakin or Obi-Wan may have if they’d been captured. He asked who Vader was. He didn’t know him - he doesn’t know him.

Vader is his brother, and yet Vader - Anakin - has been erased. His own family doesn’t know him. Has no reason to. He isn’t a person anymore. He’s a monster with no face, no name, no history, and no future. He has no claim to his own past.

Then, when Vader asks again, Korkie asks why it matters.

It’s a slight change of tactic, but one that Korkie thinks might put him on a more even playing field. If he knows why it’s important, then maybe they can work out a deal. Maybe he can...negotiate. Again, Vader hears shades of Obi-Wan’s cunning in this kid’s voice.

It also forces Vader to confront the reason he wants this blade - but that reason is intimately connected to Anakin. So Korkie is humanising him. He’s offering Vader a piece of himself. But Vader won’t take it.

Then, after Korkie’s spoken like Qui-Gon, Vader asks again, and Korkie denies him utterly. He cannot say. It’s impossible. It’s something beyond his control.

“Cannot?” says Vader. “Or will not?” 

“I will not.” His voice is firm, and does not shake.

Or is it? Because then, Korkie does what Vader does not. He takes responsibility for his choice. It’s not out of his hands. He’s choosing - deliberately, and decisively - to deny Vader. And he does not flinch. He does not hide. He looks into Vader’s face, knowing he might condemn himself to suffering, and death, and chooses that.

This is Korkie as a Jedi. He makes the same sacrifice the Jedi make - he looks into the Dark and chooses the Light.

And in this instance, he has replaced Anakin because he’s protecting Obi-Wan. Korkie is at Obi-Wan’s back. Korkie is making a choice to shield the person he loves - though he hardly knows him - because it is right. He loves freely, and selflessly. He loves Obi-Wan in a way that Anakin betrayed, but Korkie will not betray Obi-Wan here.

 He reaches again for that serenity: a flash of copper hair, of soft robes, of blue eyes. 

Korkie Kenobi is Force sensitive. Of course, he is. He is the culmination of a series of Light choices, and selfless sacrifice. He, at the end of the Clone Wars, comes out as the very thing they were fighting for. It’s not lost. Obi-Wan isn’t lost - he still shaped Korkie. He still saved something - something of the Force, something of the Light, and something of himself. He saved Satine. He saved the Jedi. He’s not fought and sacrificed in vain.

And so, though it is still rough, and untrained, though, like his relationship with his father, it’s still new, Korkie instinctively seeks to soothe himself, to find peace, so stay calm. In this moment where he is confronted with a Sith Lord, alone, and unarmed he chooses to reach for peace…

And his peace, his hope, is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He reaches for his dad.

Just like Obi-Wan reaches out for Qui-Gon’s ghost. Just like Anakin reaches out for Obi-Wan (seriously can’t have one conversation without mentioning him). Just like Luke reaches out for Anakin.

Korkie seeks comfort in the Force through the person he most finds solace in. And it doesn’t matter that he and Obi-Wan are nearly strangers, because they choose not to be. And because Obi-Wan is the ideal that Korkie strives for.

Obi-Wan has taught him something about serenity, and bravery, and hope. So when Korkie thinks of calm, and thinks of making his father proud, he sees Obi-Wan. Just flashes in his memory.

And the colours of Obi-Wan are symbolic - the fire of his hair, the chaos of the galaxy and war, the colour of the sand on Tatooine, the heat of its suns, and the shared blood between them. The blue of his eyes like water in the desert, an oasis, a salvation, an open sea, the clear sky, something vast and all encompassing and cool. The soft robes are an embrace. Obi-Wan is a home in the Force.

(Ironically, this is also what Anakin as Vader thinks of, and is thinking of because he also knows Obi-Wan, and so the next beat of this scene shows Vader and Korkie accidentally sharing thoughts. An easy mistake, as they’re essentially running into each other at the same restaurant!)

ANYWAY -

A, um, brief analysis of this passage from Or Else I Shall Be Lost

I hope you enjoyed it!!! And thank you so much @tree-scapes for tagging me!!!!! 

[scattered-irises]

LONG AWAITED CONCLUSION TO THAT ZEXAL PHILOSOPHICAL CHAT I POSTED A YEAR (or two) AGO

Part i

Basically, the theory is: Tron is a figment of the Arclights’ imagination and it’s actually just Byron going around messing everything up. Tron is a symbol of the corruption of the Arclights. 

****

And so, I pose you this question, Phosphorous. What if Tron never existed and was just a metaphorical representation for Byron's hatred and anger? What if the Barian World hadn't done anything to him and instead, just made him an angrier old man? So instead of this creepy, laughing child, we have this creepy man who goes around ruining people's lives for the sake of his revenge. 

The child is just something the Arclight brothers made up because they couldn't stand the fact that their father had become like that. But that was why they still followed him. Because he was still their father.

I see your point there. It has plausibility, muses Phosphorous. 

The reason why Tron erased their old names was because it was a way for all of them to disassociate their current selves with their past selves. They have changed too much to be considered Byron, Christopher, Thomas and Michael anymore. Christopher has turned extremely cold and calculating compared to his happier, gentle brother attitude when he was younger.

And Thomas...the poor child. He used to be a happy boy that teased his younger sibling but as IV, he masks himself as a happy celebrity loved by all in the world and underneath that mask is a sadistic monster and underneath that mask is a son that just desperately wants his father back and will do anything to get it and underneath that mask is a lonely young man who wishes to be understood.

Arguably, Michael is the one who remains closest to his original self. He's still the beloved younger brother and like when they were younger, still has a close relationship with Thomas. But he's cracked beneath his placid smile and gentle nature. When angered, he lashes out terribly and like Thomas, will do anything, even murder, to achieve his family's goals.

And so, one could argue that Tron is basically just an overall representation that their family has changed for the worse.

“How much autonomy do the brothers have? and how do they relate to others as they attempt to fulfill their families goals?” poses Phosphorous.

  Ah, ah. An insightful query, my friend. They are pretty much never seen doing things of their own free will. Even when it seems like they are enjoying themselves (I.E III sneaking into Yuma's house to eat lunch and meet him. It actually was just a scouting mission on his family's next target), their actions are meant to serve ulterior motives. In the end, all of the things they do is in the name of serving the family. 

A somewhat random note, Christopher looks at Thomas with contempt. They're basically polar opposites (But not really. Once Christopher gets emotional, he's just as broken and destructive as Thomas). 

Thomas has a grudging respect for Christopher because a part of him still recognizes him as his older brother. 

Christopher seems to care a bit more for Michael, but when Michael was being tortured, he watched the scene at the insistence of Tron. At the end of it though, he turns away, hinting at a bit of a conscience. 

It's Thomas and Michael that are more of a sibling relationship. This is most likely because they have spent all of their lives together while Christopher had been absent for 5 years from their lives. He was gone when Thomas was 12 all the way to when he turned 17 and Michael was 10 and is now 15

Thomas genuinely cares for Michael, going as far as to shout at Tron for treating his brother like that. Christopher immediately silences him. 

Michael also returns that gesture, although less because he ended up falling into a coma before we could see more. 

“Yet all three are, at least at times, willing participants in Tron's schemes?”

Yes, my fellow thinker. Christopher is the most loyal one. He never questions Tron’s orders. Michael will go with his father in hopes that he will get his family back. He is Tron's favorite because he is a "gentle and obedient child." I find it quite sad how, although Christopher is the most loyal one to the cause, he isn’t the favorite. I suppose it is also because I am the eldest of three, yet am not as favored as the youngest. 

“The youngest seems to be favored most of the time,” muses Phosphorous as they look out at the tumultuous Barian sea. 

It's Thomas that sometimes goes out of line. He's the strongest of the brothers, but Tron is always saying that he is the weakest. It is most likely the fear of Thomas realizing that he's actually powerful and could turn on Tron. Hence, that is why Tron says he trusts no one.

Phosphorous stands, overlooking the gloomy landscape of crystals. 

“So each and every one is then beholden to this idea of what? A happy family? Or just something different than their current state of affairs? Do all the brothers truly share this idea of a return to a happy family? Or do they don't even know that that looks like and just want something to change?”

In short:

Tron: Kill my murderers and I'll become your happy ol' dad again and we can go back to England and do happy British people stuff

Sons: Uh sure okay

Personally, I think they all know to an extent that they're deluding themselves

They're just ambling down this path of lies because the brothers are desperate to have a place to belong to after being separated for so long

But you might have a point that they might not even know what a truly happy family is anymore.

“So it's like they're chasing something that doesn't exist then?”

Exactly. Much like the couple that was running to the end of the rainbow. They are chasing a boat that has already long passed by. After all of the things Tron did to them, I'm sure they all know that they will never be "normal" and "happy" again.

“So under your theory, Tron doesn't truly exist, or at least is highly metaphorical, which makes all of their struggles self-inflicted and their delusions even more deep.”

Quite perceptive of you. Tron does exist, but he's basically Byron but meaner. They merely use the child with the ruined face to cover up the fact that their father has turned into a monster.

"Hey so dad's gone nuts but let's pretend it's a weird little boy who's nuts so it takes a bit of the pain away."

“Ah, so then they could say "Tron" instead of ‘Father.’”

Yes, exactly. They almost never address Tron as father. They only talk of their father in the past tense.

“But then,” proposes Phosphorous, dramatically turning back to me. “Why would they care so much for the new names they received? Or do they not care for them?”

Those names have become a part of their identities. They use it to cope with the fact that they've all gone south personality-wise. Thomas even uses IV as his celebrity name, perhaps as a sign that he does not recognize his celebrity persona as his true self.

Phosphorous takes in a deep breath, the acidic breeze rustling their toga. Their eyes meet mine own with a sharpness that I had always so admired.

  “So these new names, they're basically masks, but do they disassociate themselves from their new identities the same way they do with Tron and their Father, or do they still think of themselves as fundamentally themselves, just forced to do things they wouldn't normally do? Though I would assume each brother is affected differently by their mask,” says my friend as they begin to pace.

Ah, they still view Tron as their father (A leader) but deep down they probably don't want to put two and two together. So it's a superficial belief of "We fight for Tron (our father but let’s not think about that.)"

Either that or,

They are fighting for their Father,

 who is basically just an idea of a happy family now whilst Tron

represents a bad family.

Onto your second point, the brothers fit into their masks to different extents.

Michael doesn't seem to mind III for they appear to have the same personality, save for III's destructive tendencies.

When Christopher is reunited with his student that he abandoned and is called Christopher, he sadly smiles and says. 

"It's been a long time since someone has called me that"

And Thomas probably has an extremely difficult time taking off his mask after wearing it for so long in front of so many people

“So then do their numbered names also represent a bad family? also why do they start at three, like why not 1,2,3 instead of 3,4,5?”

I still don’t understand why it’s 3 4 5 (Nor does anyone else, for that matter.), however, their numbers are probably how Tron sees them. From his scientific background, he probably just sees his son as pieces of useful data he can use to his advantage.

“Hm, the only thing I could think of for the numbers was that Tron was somehow including him and the boys' mother in his count, like their the first two so that's why it starts at three, which is something you probably already thought about,” theorizes Phosphorous futilely.

Perhaps the numbers are used as place holders. They are not Christopher, Thomas and Michael. They are merely placeholders for when Christopher, Thomas and Michael return. When their family is whole again...

“But if the numbers are place-holders then so is the name ‘Tron,’” concludes Phosphorous.

Indeed.

“But I wonder if the brothers associate the numbers with Tron, like the numbers aren't really them, just a means to an end that will be removed when they get their father back, or if they're deluding themselves,” muses my friend.

Yes, the numbers are most likely temporary to them. Christopher is deluding himself.

He knows that he’s Christopher under V’s cold exterior. Same for Thomas and Michael. They are a family of delusions, united under the promise of a better tomorrow that will never arrive. 

  And so I thank you, for bearing with me. 

  Without ceremony, Phosphorus walks away from the crystal cliff, leaving me. I stare into the depths of the sea of ill intent and allow the sounds of the waves crashing against the crystal to overtake me. Closing my eyes, I begin to meditate. 

  Thus we conclude our bout of philosophy and ardent beard stroking. 

[kaidans-alenko]

Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Draco, Libra, Crux, Indus, Pavo, Puppis + Virgo

Andromeda - Describe your main characters 

So these are all from Melancholy requiem(silent hill au) 

Lily: very much the opposite of her canon self, bitter, suffers from depression because of her mother’s murder(and one other reason I can’t go into because spoilers) doesn’t really interact with people much outside of her family. Other than taking care of her daughter she doesn’t work and rarely wants to leave the house. Constantly paranoid something could happen to Kaidan, Aiden or Ashley while she’s away from them. Her mother’s death really messed her up and while Kaidan did help bring back some of her old self another tragic event occurred that worsened her mental health. She often feels like the only reason her brother lives with her and Kaidan married her is because they pity her but she’s never told them that. 

Aiden: A freelance photographer, lives with his sister and Kaidan to help her out with Ashley because Kaidan has a busy work schedule and often works late. Over protective of Lily and Ashley, spends most the story feeling helpless because as much as he wants to help his sister he can’t because he has to stay with his niece. As a result of his mother dying he became so protective of his sister it’s nearly an obsession, after she got married though he calmed down a little. 

Kaidan: The boy! Not all that different from canon(I try to keep Kaidan the same regardless of au) the town wanted Lily and so they used him to get her there. When I was drafting it he showed up more often but now he can be in a chapter and it’s not a huge deal. If it weren’t for the fact he was the sole reason Lily went on her little trip I wouldn’t say he was a main character but he was so he is. 

Ashley Williams: Born and raised in Brahms and comes from a long line of law enforcement, has a savior complex which is why she wants to help Lily as much as she does. Originally it was Azalea but her and Lil had too much romantic chemistry in my mind so I changed it to Ash last minute. 

Jack: Oh TIM~ *clears throat* can’t give too much away about him but he’s very closely related to Daisy. He’s both the Dahlia and the Vincent but he’s turned into more of a Vincent orz local cult leader extraordinaire. Has a fake kindness most people get fooled by but Lily sees through(because she doesn’t trust people to begin with) would sell every one of his followers to Valtiel for one corn chip. Indirectly responsible for the death of Lily’s mother.

Daisy: Ah yes, little miss Daisy, she’s my yandere queen uwu plays a very important role in the cult that I cannot say anything about yet. Takes an extreme liking to Kaidan which 4 chapters in I guess I don’t need to tell anybody that so moving on. Her husband kind of ditched her as soon as she got sick which is why she latches onto Kaidan like she does. Prone to violent mood swings as a result of her illness and those monsters Lily ran into at the beginning of ch4 are actually ones she conjured up. Daisy views herself as a monster trapped in her bed and their attack is symbolic of how she treated her husband. Spewing venom at him until he eventually stopped seeing her(very much like Mary) 

Cassiopeia - What’s your favorite scene so far?

The one where Lily finds her mother’s body, took me most of the night to get that scene exactly how I wanted it and as much as it gave me a headache it was so worth it in the end. 

"Mommy….?" She squeaked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You're bleeding...the first aid kit it's in the bathroom," she nodded as she stood up. "You just need some bandages then you'll be good as new."

Lily didn't run, she didn't jog, she walked, there was no sense of urgency to be had, she knew there was no point in what she was doing, her mother was dead, no amount of gauze or disinfect wipes was going to change that.

Lily caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her hands were covered in blood as was her school uniform all the way down to her shoes "This is...mom's blood?" She fell to her knees onto the cold tile of the small bathroom, the room spinning and the metallic scent filling her nose, making her sick to her stomach.

"I...mom..." the shock overwhelmed her and her eyes rolled back into her head as she passed out, the bathroom carpet cushioning her fall.

Draco - Who’s your favorite character to write?

Lily because I get to torture her and was else are ocs for if not that? Closely followed by Aiden ofc 

Libra - Which relationship dynamic do you enjoy writing the most?

Alex and Kaidan in my step dad au that I need to write more of orz

Crux - Villains or Heroes?

Heroes! the closest thing i’ve written villain wise is Lily in any of my canon stuff. She’s renegade and a very ruthless one at that so i’d say she’s more of an anti-hero. 

Indus - Are there any characters or stories you miss writing? Tell us about them!

I miss writing Buttercup, she is the Shepard in my alankarian fic but I really want to write more for her and Jacob. Sometimes I miss burden of gemini and i’m sure at one point i’ll get back to it but it’s also something that could be told thru one shots of Lily and Aiden so we’ll see but right now i’m having way too much fun with melancholy requiem <3

Pavo - Where do you get inspiration from?

Mainly music and the sims lol I usually play with Kaidan and Lily and I came up with a vampire au and a modern au fwb story because of it <3

Puppis - Give us a piece of advice! (about anything)

Ummm don’t fall in love with video game characters? Jk jk uh....for an older sibling i’m bad with advice but there’s this thing I always do when i’m having a shit day or just a busy day at work I just tell myself “I never have to do this day again” and while I may have another shitty shift it won’t be this specific one. 

Virgo - Describe your favorite tropes.

I really like break the cutie which is the biggest trope I use when writing Lily lol like no matter the au, something bad is happening to her 

[halorocks1214]

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

Summary: The Law of Relativity states that each person will receive a series of problems (‘tests of initiation’) for the purpose of strengthening the ‘light’ within. We must consider each of these tests to be a challenge and remain connected to our hearts when proceeding to solve the problems. This law also teaches us to compare our problems to others’ problems and put everything into its proper perspective. No matter how bad we perceive our situation to be, there is always someone who is in a worse position. It is all relative

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | Virgil | You are here! | Gordon

WHY 👏🏼 CANT 👏🏼 I 👏🏼 WRITE 👏🏼 FICS 👏🏼 IN 👏🏼 MO 👏🏼 DER 👏🏼 RATION 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 also just bluuuergh. dont ask about this fic. part of it was written in a dark auditorium, another was written in a different state, another was written on a frickin bus, this fic has been places ill tell you what. half the time i think this is hot garbage and the other half i think its actually decent so im posting this while my head is in a good headspace and then promptly yeeting myself off the internet for a few hours to wait and see what happens. this series is becoming less of a canon divergence AU and more of a straight-up AU because of certain details im trying to worm in there buT IM TRYING MY BEST

thanks once more to @gumnut-logic, because of the length, this time i used three prompts, them being "What do you mean?", crease, and dream (and they werent even used that much sksksksk)

Warnings for both graphic and non-graphic depictions of violence, as well as mentions of torture and other PTSD/panic attack related stuff. I went deep with this one fellas

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

He can still see the footage in the backs of his eyelids from when he watched it exactly one year ago. He was the only other (living) adult at the time in the family outside of Grandma, so he was permitted to see it. He remembered they originally didn’t want to show him, mainly because of his age, but Grandma was fierce, and she put one hell of an argument on the table.

One Scott refused to let fall through the cracks by breaking down. If only Grandma knew how he cried his eyes out and screamed to high heaven that night in the hotel room after essentially watching his father be blown to bloody smithereens then she was a goddamn saint for keeping it a secret. It made sense, she was the mother to his father. She had quite the line up of stories from Jeff’s childhood. Scott sensed the early-greying of his hair came from her, heh.

The rest of his family eventually saw it, of course, they did. Scott couldn’t shield them forever. What he will protect, selfishly he might add, was how angry he was at how much better they took it than he did. They cried, yes they did, but they never fully broke down like Scott did. Later in life, he wondered if it was jealousy: jealousy at not truly being able to let go. Whatever it was, he made sure to swallow it along with whatever alcohol he chose for the weekend.

Just add it to the ever-growing pile of shit he had to deal with. Nothing new.

Suddenly he’s 20 again and seated in a plane to be taken to his first stint in the Air Force. He said his goodbyes to Virgil, Gordon, and Alan back at home while Grandma and John metaphorically held his hand all the way to the airport. John was… quiet, more so than usual, but Grandma was stuck right in the middle between being a sobbing mess and ecstatic at the fine young man he’s become.

You’re just like your father. He would be proud.

Scott was secretly glad she never physically said it. It gave him plausible deniability in thinking that those words weren’t laced behind her big, bright, prideful eyes.

The first time went well, maybe even great. He stayed for a couple of months, did some flight tests, and while the training was brutal, boy did he learn a lot. When he came back home it was to a family slowly stitching itself back together. Grandma was a full-time house member, Virgil had taken up painting, Gordon talked about potentially going back to his swim meets, and while Alan was still as silent as ever, he was perkier than when Scott last saw him.

It would be on and off for the next few years: a couple of months at home, slowly and painfully taking over the role their father had (he can’t remember when he essentially received joint custody of his younger siblings with Grandma, but hey, he’s not complaining), then a couple of months out at the Air Force base where he slowly climbed up the ranking platform. He became skillful, perhaps too skillful. When he got his rank of Captain he felt it was less of an honor and more of something they owed him.

He was getting cocky. Never enough to be a danger to his fellow men, but enough to be somewhat of an occasional annoyance. Charles smacked him upside the head more than once. It felt like the world was right-side-up for once. Scott made many-a-calls to John and Virgil, the former enjoying his first few rotations up in space and the latter squarely in the middle of college. Gordon was being offered sponsorships to hell and back, and Alan was quietly getting along with the other kids at his school. Grandma was on welcoming duty for Kayo, who was taking her slot in the Tracy family with grace, though, a warning that their family would take custody of her if something were to happen to her parents would have been nice, Dad.

Of course, nothing ever goes right for their family for too long.

Orphan.

Age 24, it was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission of civilians. Scott was put in charge of his squad and then some. At night, they rolled-- well, flew out to get the job done. Scott can’t even remember the country anymore when minding his own business. Australia? Finland? Perhaps Bangladesh? There was a place John was insistent Scott never do rescues in, Virgil tended to agree, and the eldest unhealthily let them banish him from ever stepping foot there without argument. He could never remember the name off the top of his head until John’s familiar International Rescue, we have a situation rung out in the living room followed by the name of the country.

He would immediately forget it later, trauma too strong, too volatile, but the way his heart stopped and his head shattered and the way he felt ice water rush down his back was a good enough reason to quietly leave the room and let John delegate the job to one of his brothers. Sometimes John found him retching in the toilet halfway through the mission. He made sure to always mute Scott’s wrist communicator, even if it was never turned on in the first place.

The plane touched down. Orders sent the ground team out. But then the ground team took longer than estimated. Scott tensely waited where he was told to. It wasn’t the first mission that took a little longer than predicted and knowing humans, it surely wouldn’t be the last. Then, words mixed with heavy static came over the radio. H--p. Co-- ---7--. --nd ba---p --me--at--y.

Scott sat tensely in his seat, remembering his orders and suddenly hating them. Radio back to home if the mission goes south. Well, it didn’t look like they had the radio anymore. Still didn’t hurt to try at least. Scott spoke the familiar protocol that was ingrained into him when trying to call base. Dammit. Nothing. Probably some kind of blocker of sorts. Sitting up straight as a board, Scott looked through his options.

… He was in charge here. If something happened to his team the fault would lie squarely on his shoulders. Going against everything but his gut, he went out to help his squad. He can’t really remember what he exactly did anymore, but he does remember that it made a noise. Like a Looney Tunes scene: he flinched, froze, waited to see if anything or one heard, breathed a sigh of relief, and continued.

He eventually stumbled across one of his closest comrades, Arnold Brigeets. Yes, the name was ironic and half the reason he joined the force in the first place. The guy was one of the people that actually trained Scott and also seemed to be one of the few that was genuinely proud when Scott became a higher rank. It’s why Scott was more appreciative of Arnold than others, that, and well… Scott thought his fatherly abilities were good. The guy did have three kids back home.

Orphan.

Ducking down behind the cover his older friend was semi-situated behind, Scott watched as Arnold jumped at the intrusion before sighing. Scott had run into some enemies that he swiftly took down-- nothing too serious, he didn’t have the time or weapons for such an act, but they definitely would be out of it for a while-- so Arnold must have too on his way to find cover as well, hence why he was so on edge.

“Thank God,” Arnold wiped his forehead, “Glad to see you join us, kid.”

Scott was breathing heavily, but the grin he attempted was still there, “Y-Yeah, so what happened? More threats than we thought?”

Arnold shook his head, “Yes and no. There were a lot more baddies than we thought, but that’s because the civilians weren’t civilians. It’s a tr--”

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

Arnold fell over. Never got back up. Dropped like a rock in a lake, never to come up to the surface again.

Scott was so caught off guard he couldn’t react to the gun that swiftly beat him over the head, knocking him out cold. The only thing on his mind was oh fuck oh fuck I messed up I shouldn’t have come I wouldn’t have made any noise that way why did I--

They had him for roughly two weeks. Scott always thought the plotline in movies where the villain vehemently denied knowing any important information was dumb as hell. We’re not stupid. We wouldn’t go after someone if they didn’t know something.

The things they did hurt and no amount of I don’t fucking know anything! would help. Those two weeks were lost to Scott in a sea of pain and torment. The only thing he remembered was being captured, then waking up in a hospital drugged up to his gills with his superiors staring at him like he cured cancer.

“You saved the rest of your squad from sharing the same fate as the first half.”

“I-I did?”

“You betcha, son. I only wish I was there to see it! People be saying you were like an animal in how you took ‘em all down.”

Scott’s never remembered, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He was given the highest honors, even the chance to skip a couple of ranks to be at the same level as the big boys, but the night they were going to share the news to the golden boy himself, they found him in one of the bathrooms with a bloody hand and a mirror shattered with no hope of fixing it.

He was honorably discharged to a family that was so thankful he was home. Words like missing in action and POA never stopped haunting their nightmares. Scott was too, God, of course, he was, but sitting around and doing nothing was the last thing his traumatized mind wanted or maybe even needed. After doing what he considered to be the biggest fuck-up of his life, he needed to feel important.

This isn’t the first time he’ll say this and it surely won’t be the last: thank Christ for Grandma.

“You want me to take over?...”

“Yep, it’s about time Tracy Industries received a new pair of eyes. The Board certainly thinks so.”

“But… they’d rather have a crazy, PTSD-infected veteran over you?”

A rough pinch to his ear, “Hey now, don’t call yourself that,” the gentle motherly tone was back as soon as it left, “Besides, that crazy might exactly be what they want. Half of their argument is that I “don’t take enough risks.” They’re getting tired of listening to an old fart like me.”

A moment of contemplation, followed by the cheeky raise of an eyebrow, “So you’re saying you want me to take so many risks they have no choice but to take you back?”

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

He learned the ropes faster than normal (healthy, is probably the correct term), and he immediately won the hearts of both young and old in the company. Instead of flying planes every few months, he worked on business reports and vetoed new ideas every couple of weeks. It felt satisfying for the most part, and his family was just happy he was still alive to enjoy it.

However, there was a slight roadblock on his way to becoming a somewhat stable person.

He became prone to violent blackouts. It had to have started when he blacked out and saved himself from those two weeks of hell, which made the most sense. Something was always destroyed when he came back to life. John was the best at calming him down due to his own experience with panic attacks, however, John couldn’t always be there, and the next rotation for NASA was coming swiftly. Scott swore up and down he would be fine, he could figure something out. John went back into space with an eyebrow permanently raised.

It was just him and Virgil home (Grandma had taken Alan and Kayo to watch Gordon swim) when he, unfortunately, proved John right. Scott wasn’t sure what triggered it, but he vividly remembered coming back in Virgil’s extremely tight hold. The first thing Scott thought to say was damn, beanstalk, when did you get so strong? but then he laid his eyes upon the forming bruise on his younger bro’s face and hasn’t recovered since.

Virgil swore he never held it against Scott. Scott definitely thought he should have.

That night brought sudden clarity to Scott that he was doing this horribly wrong. He was a ticking time bomb, and it wouldn’t be long before something was damaged in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Scott needed an anchor. Something to ground him before he took it too far. John wasn’t going to be earthside forever, Grandma was busy with Kayo, Alan was just a kid, and Gordon was living the dream. None of them were viable.

Then, as he was thinking, he was suddenly aware of how calming Virgil’s arms were around him, how they were preventing the growing panic attack in his chest from getting even bigger.

It was easy.

For once in Scott’s life, his eyes were big and young as he asked Virgil, “Help me, please.”

After a few brief seconds, Virgil gulped, “Okay.”

From then on, Virgil was Stone Number One. Scott’s admiration for Virgil outweighed the guilt of putting the black-haired man in that position in the first place. Virgil was glad to follow his older brother’s leadership, but just as qualified to bring him the hell back when he went too far. From getting too sacrificial to preventing a good punching-out some of the idiots they dealt with, Virgil made sure Scott knocked that shit off.

Time went on, Scott was a top-notch CEO at Tracy Industries, John was having one hell of a time up in space, Virgil was graduated and had so many life opportunities to pick from, Alan was thriving at being a (mostly) stable kid, Kayo was 100% acclimated to the family, and Gordon--

Scott found himself gripping the wooden desk very abruptly. He was shocked he didn’t snap a chunk off in the process. Why was he thinking about this right after a giant business conference? Who knows at this point. If this giant origin story seemed jagged and jumpy, maybe even somewhat vague, good, that’s how it fucking felt.

Back to said story.

Scott always thought he and Gordon would have the least amount in common.

They do, but out of all the things they could have picked to be similar, why did it have to be the PTSD caused by military-related jobs? Scott was 24 when he got his, Gordon was just under 20. It may have been a few years since their respective accidents, but they’re never going to go another day without it feeling like it was just yesterday.

At this point, Gordon was up and walking again, mainly thanks to John and Alan while Virgil and Scott helped in their own ways. Grandma’s cooking was what probably motivated him the most though, ha, the need to get away from it… Scott smiled. Grandma was always a constant. Honestly, if it weren’t for her, the family might have fallen apart. Literally.

What has he been saying throughout this whole shindig? Thank Christ for Grandma.

One day out of the blue, Grandma reserved the entire family (yes, even Kayo and Alan) private plane tickets so they could spend some time on the mainland for a few days. Honestly, even if the island wasn’t getting major renovations, you hooligans need to get out more. Have some fun. Try not to kill anything, especially each other, she all told them while creepily grinning. John and Virgil smacked Gordon more than once on the plane for insisting that she finally snapped, dudes, she’s gonna kill us.

Most of the time during their little vacation, Scott heavily focused on his breathing. He was pretty sure he knew what she was doing. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but the same went for his excitement.

Dad showed him these plans the day after his 18th birthday. You’re a man now, Scotty, I need your help making this big boy decision with me.

As soon as they reset foot down on the island, Scott took a deep breath and felt relaxed at the salty taste in the air. It was weird, nothing on the outside was changed, and yet… it still felt different.

“Guys!” Virgil yelled out, “Stop playing in the water! We just got back, aren’t you two tired?!”

Blinking back to reality, Scott looked over to see his two youngest brothers doing exactly what Virgil was yelling at them for. Poor Johnny was a little damp too, which is what probably caused Virgil to shout at them in the first place. The blondes didn’t care. They continued to prance around in the shallow waves with their pants legs rolled up, acting as if they didn’t hear anything outside of their laughter. Gordon shoved his hands down into the liquid and threw some directly at Alan, nailing him right in the face.

Scott exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine them doing this 8 years ago.

Regardless, the artist was right, and they couldn’t waste too much time. Kayo was swift in grabbing both gentlemen by the ears and dragging them onto dry land. They all painstakingly trekked their way up to the-- what would you call Tracy Island? Mansion? Over-blown cabin? Well, whatever it was, Scott would always be willing to call it home.

Stepping inside, each brother took in the view, which was underwhelmingly not that much different, except for one tiny thing. John suddenly noticed a figure already standing in the living room and blinked, “No way… it’s--”

Gordon jumped in, both with his body and his words, “Brains?! Dude, how’s it hanging?!”

The scientist in question jumped at the voices before clearing his throat and readjusting his glasses, “O-Oh, hello again, T-Tracys. It’s good to see you all once more.”

Virgil slung an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the blatant squawk, “Man, how long has it been?! What made you finally decide to crawl out of your hole?”

Snickers came from all corners of the house. Brains stood up straighter, “W-Well, I was contacted b-by Mrs. Tracy over here with an offer I c-couldn’t turn down.”

Eyebrows tilted in all shapes and sizes. Someone cleared their throat. Everyone turned to look at Grandma once again, “I think if you all follow me, you’ll swiftly understand what I’m talking about.”

I already do, Scott thought matter-of-factly. John seemed to be understanding it now, Virgil was on the cusp of remembering what his father was hinting at for him, and Gordon was just as lost as Alan. It made sense, Jeff talked to all of them about it, but the oldest had seniority. The two youngest not remembering just by words was expected, especially since that was going to be rectified very quickly.

The hangar under the island was beautiful. Point blank. It smelt of iron and steel and grease and engine and that was the first time since Scott had been in the Air Force that he didn’t gag or flinch at the thought of flying something again. Scott had seen the plans his father drew. He assumed Jeff finished building it, but he never got to physically see it since…

In some ways, he was glad he didn’t. Now he got to experience it with (most of) his family, and that made it ten times better.

After letting them absorb the scenery, Grandma slowly turned around to look at them all, “You remember that dream your father had?”

The four oldest blinked, Kayo simply raised her eyebrows, meanwhile, Alan, being the teenager he was, didn’t read the emotion in the room, “Oh, yeah! Aunt Casey always talked about how he was going to “change the world” and stuff. What did he call it again?”

Scott felt way more confident than he had in a while, “International Rescue.”

Grandma nodded, gleeful at the happy look on her oldest and youngest grandsons’ faces, “Well, I’ve been thinking about some things. I know we don’t exactly worry about money, but after everything your father put into these girls… I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

The Tracy family jumped at that. John’s mouth was wide open in shock, yes, shock, “That station is still up there?”

Grandma sighed, “You mean ‘Five? Not for long. Not if we don’t send someone up there within the next few days.”

John blushed at the grin Grandma gave him. Clearing his throat, his big brain came to a startling conclusion, “Wait… you brought Alan along?”

The other big brothers in the room jumped at that. Kayo was the only one with enough balls to say the truth out loud, “Mrs. Tracy, I mean no offense, but he’s--”

“Just a kid?” Grandma smirked, “A kid that’s topped the VR charts for Intergalactic Fury for weeks straight while simultaneously getting nothing but A’s in his classes?”

Scott nodded slowly in comprehension. He remembered Alan talking about that game for a while. It was some kind of online racing simulator of sorts. Scott caught the prettiest string of words from Alan when going to bed one night. Nearly made him shit his pants. He made the kid promise to keep it PG-13 if he wanted to keep playing.

Still, the elders in the family slowly turned to look at the freckled boy with both shock and pride. Alan blinked with wide-eyed innocence, “But my English class is only at a B--”

“Shh, kiddo, I’m making a point,” Grandma rolled her eyes. The other brothers snickered. Yep, still Alan. Grandma sighed, “Now before you point out that video games are different, I know, but the difference between them and this is that video games don’t have some of the most talented older brothers in the world to guide him.”

Said older brothers jumped at the idea. Before any objection could be made, Grandma continued, “Besides, the GDF seemed to be okay with it. The Colonel was willing to oversee some of his training too.”

John flinched at that, “But IR is supposed to be independent!”

Grandma slightly frowned. She didn’t exactly like it either, “It still is, but in the world of business, compromises have to be made.”

Virgil huffed and crossed his arms, “Well, that’s… rough. Here I thought only Scott would have to deal with the bullshit of business.”

Grandma chuckled at the somewhat un-Virgil-like behavior, “It really is, Virgil. But about that Scott part,” she slowly turned to look at him and him only, “I hate to give you more work to do, but if you want to work within their restrictions?”

Suddenly every pair of eyes in the room was on the head of the family. Gulping, Scott looked down at his feet to think. It was a tense few moments, nobody sure what he was going to decide, least of all him, before the brunette cleared his throat and brought his face back up with a grin.

“Well then,” Scott turned to look at the bright tip of ‘One, chest fluttering with a feeling that became unfamiliar to him over the past few years, “I guess now it’s time to state the obvious.”

From then on, every time he loaded into that cockpit of his girl, he felt lighter than air.

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

Scott took another sip of his whiskey and refocused on his reports.

---

Scott was in some kind of dissociative state the whole way home.

Alan doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid, barely an adult, and he’s going to go through utter hell because you screwed up. You were 24, Gordon was just under 20, Alan was barely 18. Alan’s going to get fucked up like you and it’s all your fault.

His movements were robotic and rigid. Anyone with a working eye could tell he was deep in shock and running on autopilot. Mostly Jeff. Especially Jeff. The rest of the brothers all noticed too, but they were also running on their own empty fuel tanks, so the only thing they could do was guilty send their older brother the occasional glance of pity and concern.

Jeff was going to need to talk to them about that. Somehow. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one to point it out since he feels just as bad. His sons were too much like him, sometimes, and that made his guilt burn all the same. He should’ve been there to warn his sons about the dangers of unnecessary guilt. Having that kind of guilt was a parent’s job, dammit, and maybe grandparents only occasionally.

But then he remembered where he’s been for the past 8 years and… who really was Alan’s parents anymore? His gut was screaming it sure as hell isn’t you, but he knew his sons would want him to step back into the role as soon as he was physically fit to do so, not just for Alan, but for themselves as well. They would deny it, but they probably just wanted to be kids again too, even if it was only brief, fleeting moments.

Who was to tell the protective, fatherly side of Jeff no to that? No better time to fix things like the present after all.

He saw Scott go up the stairs when they first stepped into the living room, so that’s where Jeff was going to go too. Footsteps light, Jeff retraced his eldest’s pathway to his bedroom. Only, he stopped before said bedroom. Unfavorable noises were coming from the closed bathroom door, and Jeff could only swallow whatever emotion it made him feel. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the (unlocked) door to the bathroom and laid his eyes upon the incriminating scene.

Jeff was met with the sight of Scott retching his entire stomach into the toilet, hands aggressively grabbing his sticky, hair-gelled hair and trying to make himself bald from the strain.

Jeff’s reaction was always based on autopilot, and it will never stop being so.

Ignoring his protesting body, Jeff kneeled and placed a hand on his son’s back, only to abruptly pull back like he touched a hot stove when Scott only got more hysterical at the contact. The brunette clenched his eyes shut even more (and they were already shut as much as possible) while his head became a special kind of crease. Like he was in pain, “God, I wanna go home. Why won’t they listen I swear I’m telling the truth! Please, I just want Dad--”

Jeff was frozen on the spot, heart stopping in the process. His brain shut down while he watched his son continue to mindlessly ramble and panic. His freaked-out mind barely registered footsteps from behind in the hallway, followed by a voice going what’s going-- holy--

Something thundered past him. Blinking once, Jeff guiltily watched as Virgil kneeled behind the eldest and wrapped his arms around the thin man’s shoulders while taking Scott’s hands in his in a protective blanket, “Scott! Jesus-- we’re at home, you’re safe and it’s June 14th, 2--”

Scott only struggled more, panicking at the fact he could no longer yank his hair out. Dammit, it was the only way he could feel in control, don’t take that away too! “No! I swear I’ve said everything! Please--”

Virgil immediately knew that this was one of those attacks that Scott wasn’t coming back down from with pure human intervention. Add-on the sight of his father’s big eyes signifying the man was at a loss at what to do, Virgil had no choice. He snapped loudly, remembering the comms were still on and only feeling slightly bad at the way Scott flinched in his arms, “Shit-- John! It’s Scott! Get the stuff! We’re in the upstairs bathroom!”

Muffled footsteps through a few walls in the house could be heard. Jeff’s mind was only starting to catch up when the brother Virgil called for came rushing into the bathroom (Jeff never remembered it being big enough to hold four of them) and ignoring Jeff (practically shoving him out of the way too, man, this was bad) on his way to the main problem at hand. Landing on his knees in a way that made Jeff wince, John gently grabbed one of Scott’s arms from Virgil’s hold and subsequently pulled a needle from nowhere and injected something into Scott.

The response was instantaneous.

Scott’s breathing, while still labored, got slower. He stopped struggling as well, and the way he sagged reminded Jeff of ice melting into a puddle. The two other brothers’ shoulders also sagged, relieved at the crisis averted. John stood up, knees cracking as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he froze at the sight of something in the doorway, “G-Gordon…”

Virgil snapped his head up from where he was looking at Scott. Jeff did something similar. Yup, in the doorway was the strawberry blonde, eyes wide, making him younger by about 10 years. The ex-Olympian in question inhaled, closed his eyes, and soon speed-walked his way out of the entrance to the bathroom. Dammit, neither Gordon or Alan have seen something like that and it probably spooked him more than anything. He’d understand with his own PTSD-related issues, but still, seeing the “never weak” big brother freak out in such a scary way...

John combed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. As he started walking out of the room, he whispered to himself, probably hoping no one heard him, “Dammit, this is all so fucked…”

Unfortunately, Jeff did hear, and the dirty language made the father flinch. John was always the best about making sure Grandma didn’t wash his mouth out with soap, and the fact that he so willingly didn’t care meant that everyone was at the end of their rope. Still reeling at the sight, Jeff couldn’t react to the gentle arms that picked him up off the floor and slowly led him out of the suddenly stuffy room.

With the click of the door shutting, Jeff realized what Virgil did, “W-Wait, Scott--”

“Will be okay for a few seconds,” Virgil finished for his dad, “I know it’s nearly been a decade, but the one part of you I definitely know hasn’t changed is the need to comfort us, just like we hoped.” The small grin that fell over the middle child’s face put Jeff a little bit at ease, but Virgil wasn’t completely done, “So, I’m going to let you take care of this, but I just want to make sure you’ll handle it with grace. Take this slowly, okay? Scott might be doped up, but he’s still… volatile, in a sense.”

Jeff cleared his throat, suddenly choking on the unneeded tension, “Okay, Virgil, I promise, just… what happened? That was… bad, and really bad at that too. I know Scott would never let something that severe willingly come out in front of his family.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not ready for this conversation, “Listen, Dad,” he inhaled sharply, cutting himself off before sighing in a way that said fuck it, might as well get this over with, “As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living. We all have lives and stories now, and this is Scott’s story to tell.”

Jeff was getting misty-eyed again. Back when he was just a kid, Virgil couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, mainly in part due to his insomnia-related issues (Jeff has to wonder if he still has them, more problems for the future) and general lack of filter because of sleep-deprivation. Now Jeff knew there was a starch difference between a kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and a man who genuinely knew how to respect another man’s privacy, but…

It just hammers home how much he’s missed with his boys. Gulping, Jeff made a mental note to talk with his mom about certain things he’s missed. She’ll know a lot more than he would, “Okay, Virge. Thank you, for stepping up there.”

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed at Jeff’s words, as well as his father’s hand patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Dad. Just… go easy on him. I know it’s a little late for this but none of us ever properly talked about things. It was very unhealthy, deep down we all knew that, but…”

“You just couldn’t get the proper emotions out?” Jeff finished for his son. At Virgil’s soft nod, Jeff exhaled, “I’m not going to say that it was a smart decision, but we’re all here now. We can move forward with this.” Jeff squeezed where his hand laid.

Virgil blinked before curtly going, “Yeah. Goodnight, Dad. Take care of Scott.”

Virgil stepped around his father and walked to where his bedroom most definitely was not, but Jeff could deal with that in a little bit. He had another son who he was pretty sure just had a violent PTSD attack of some kind, plus, Virgil seemed to sour at something Jeff said. The ex-astronaut wasn’t sure what it was, so he didn’t chase after him out of worry that--

Wait.

We’re all here now.

Dammit, Jeff. Out of all the sentences you could’ve picked...

Alrighty, just add that to the ever-growing pile of things that need to be talked about later. No biggie. Jeff found himself sighing and rubbing the back of his neck much like Virgil did a few minutes ago. Turning around, he was met with the bathroom door once more. Shaking his head, Jeff slowly crept into the room and saw that not much was different, especially with Scott.

His heart softly cracked, but, again, he can deal with it later.

Sitting down on the ground and grimacing at the way his body ached (was gravity always this rough?), Jeff leaned against the floor cabinets about 2-3 feet away from Scott, who made himself into a nice comfortable ball in the corner next to the toilet, his palm smushed against his forehead. Jeff waited a few seconds. Then minutes. Then he realized he would have to be the one to initiate the conversation. He probably should’ve realized that right when he came back in. He opened his mouth, but his wasn’t the one that words came out of.

“It was… Zambia.”

Jeff’s heart stopped and his mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t stop the way his eyes clearly showed his panic, but hopefully, he guiltily thought, Scott was a little too doped up to not realize it, “Scotty, what do you mean?”

Scott shrugged in a way that spoke he thought what he was admitting wasn’t a big deal. Yep, clearly not with it, “Mission went bad… caught for a couple of weeks.”

Jeff was hoping his first fuck back on Earth, spoken to himself like right now or otherwise, would have been a comedic thing, but the way nausea rose in his throat said this was anything but funny.

Scott wanted to be in the Air Force. Badly. Who was a father to deny his son’s want to be part of such a noble cause? He gave him tips, took him to meet friends in high places, sometimes even sparred with him when he turned 18, but then Jeff was suddenly thousands of miles away with no hope of ever having the chance of sparring with his eldest again. Despite it, Jeff hoped Scott went on to become the best pilot the world has ever seen.

Part of this looks like he did, but at what cost?

As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living.

Aw hell, “Jesus, Scott…” Jeff couldn’t tell if it was the brashness or the lack of a nickname that made Scott flinch and he hated it. He immediately softened his tone and brought his 27-year-old child into his arms, “Shh, shh, we’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

Like father like son, old habits die hard, and as easy as it was to still be able to comfort his children, Scott seemed to just as easily take it as he used to 8 years ago, “Alan doesn’t deserve this kind of hell, God, he’s barely not a kid anymore! Why--”

Jeff tightened his hold to keep his son in reality, and because he didn’t like the tone behind those words, “Hey, you didn’t either--”

Scott somehow managed to fling himself out of the hug, focus incredibly on point for someone who was doped up to his eyelids five seconds ago, “But I fucked up! I made the wrong call and then suddenly Arnold was dead and he had a wife and kids-- shit, what the hell did I do?”

Okay.

First of all: way to put him back in that headspace when that’s the exact opposite you were going for, Jeff, father of the year. Second: dammit. Just… dammit. This was a big fat hand grenade in a giant handbasket that they didn’t have time to gently get out while simultaneously not yanking the pin clean off with the grace of a drunk elephant. Jeff was no stranger to Survivor’s Guilt, but there was a whole untapped pile of metaphorical C4 within his son’s head that was ready for someone to push the goddamn button.

He wanted it to be him, desperately, because it sounded like he already failed his family enough, it was all he could do at this point, but he absolutely hated that he couldn’t do it right now. This was going to take a lot of time, which they didn’t have, plus, Jeff thought he had a pretty good understanding of this new Scott and the rest of his kids. Jeff was aware that if he didn’t help his sons find their baby as fast as possible over everything else it’ll lead to a fate nobody wanted.

A shaky sigh, “Okay, Scotty, let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk strategy in the morning.”

Scott simply nodded as his father flung Scott’s arm around his broader shoulders and picked him up. Slowly and painfully but surely, father and son meandered their way to Scott’s room. With a thump a little harder than Jeff wanted, Scott flopped down on top of his sheets and immediately started snoring. Despite everything that just happened, the father couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Well, there was another thing Jeff gracefully passed onto his son.

Jeff only took Scott’s shoes off. He would’ve loved to pull the sheets up around him too, but the father didn’t want to take any chances at waking him up. Slowly tip-toeing out of the room, Jeff gave one last glance back at his son before finally letting him be and gently shutting the door. He had three other sons he needed to console, but his tired joints told him to selfishly take a moment for himself for right now unless he wanted to collapse and give his family more to deal with.

Jeff eventually made his way to his room-- which was sadly unkempt, he noticed-- and sat down on the edge of his unfamiliar bed to think.

He’ll figure something out. If he had to crawl through images of his son being brutally and bloodily tortured then by God he would with the fury of a thousand suns.

He was back and he wasn’t going to throw away any second or even third chance he was given.

---

“I got him.”

Virgil turned his comms back on, and with it, Scott’s heart restarted for the first time in a few weeks. Taking a moment for a breather, Scott leaned against the wall while practically wheezing. They have him back, holy shit, they have him back. Scott vaguely heard Gordon cry in pure relief and joy. He saw John’s side of the comms flutter for a bit before a bright flash happened. Blinking away the white spots, Scott looked at his wrist to see a fully detailed map of the compound.

Gordon spoke what they were all thinking, “Woohoo! First Allie comes back, then Johnny-boy gets us a free ticket out of here! We’re winning this race, baby!”

A very loud moment of silence. John cleared his throat, “Actually, I was going to say glad to see you in one piece, you little shit,” a playful gasp came from Virgil’s side. It was too high pitched to be from the pianist’s mouth. Scott chuckled, but the paranoid part of his brain said John wasn’t done. His brain was right, ‘“But guys… that wasn’t me. Or EOS. We still haven’t found a way to get past the metal they made these walls out of.”

That silence was even more deafening than the last, and before Virgil could utter out his typical what the fuck, a small logo appeared at the corner of their new map. One that was all too familiar. The Chaos Crew wasn’t the only one who could brand their awful deeds.

Son of a bitch.

Virgil’s order over the radio was meant for Alan, but Scott couldn’t help but listen to it too.

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

Making quick work of the compound once more, Scott, while booking it even quicker than last time, opened a private line between him and Gordon, “Hey, how would you feel if I said go help Virgil while I cover Alan?”

The first response was stuttering, which Scott expected, but then it was followed up by something completely out of left field for Gordon, “... Okay, just as long as you promise to bring Alan back in one piece.”

Part of Scott wanted to console Gordon, another was questioning why Gordon was so quick to give up, another wanted to say of course, I will, idiot, but the first part that made itself verbal was easy, “You know I will, buddy.”

Scott could physically picture Gordon’s tiny, little, somber nod clear as day, “Sounds good, captain. See you on the other side.”

With a click, Scott was back on the group comm. Suddenly remembering what exactly his job was, he pulled out the map so graciously given to them by The Hood. Looking at all the dots, one was heading towards a prone one (oh if that asshole did anything to Virgil…) while another one was heading right for Scott himself. Actually, in just a few seconds, right as Scott rounded the corner he would--

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

Yes, you heard that correctly: not tiger, Tigger. Tigger hadn’t been used since Alan was itty bitty. It always seemed like the kid had endless energy with the way he wouldn’t stop bounding off the walls and furniture. Even as a baby, Lucy had to sit with him for a few hours while he slept in his crib to make sure he would stay there. In fact, their mother gave Alan that nickname herself. She was quite the Winnie the Pooh fan, and the rest of the family figured it would be one of the ways they could keep her legacy alive for the tiny potato.

Wrapping his arms around said flailing potato, albeit much bigger than a baby, Scott thought he would collapse then and there. Alan was here, in his arms, and yeah, the sight of his dirty and somewhat ripped up IR uniform made him mad, but Scott, for once in his life, decided to focus on the here-and-now, aka his precious, alive little brother, who finally stopped struggling at the realization that hey, the person holding you is a good guy, time to turn off fight mode.

Smushing their foreheads together as much as possible, Scott desperately fought to keep the waterworks back, a smile from ear to ear hopefully taking whatever energy his tear ducts had, “You are getting such an ass beating when we get home, little bro.”

Alan jumped back with a look of What the hell?! What did I do now?!

Scott simply rolled his eyes, “Really? “Not important”? You graduated high school, tiny dude! That’s huge! You remember Gordon’s party, right?”

Alan’s mouth gaped before he closed it with slightly puffy cheeks. Those same cheeks tinged with a small blush. Alan wasn’t exactly expecting to be smothered so soon (well, he did cry his eyes out on Virgil’s shoulder, but that was different!). Shaking it off, Alan moved his hands rhythmically and rapidly, To be fair, we weren’t sure he was going to get one for a while.

Scott faltered a little bit at the ASL. Darn, he should’ve seen Alan’s lack of talking from a mile away. Scott carefully hid his disappointment from Alan. Lord knew what the kid would take it as, “Yeah, that’s what he got for barely making it. Imagine what you’re going to get!”

Scott assumed his semi-fake charm worked, as Alan seemed to play along without any kind of suspicion, Oh yeah. Fair enough.

This kid, man.

Then, slow clapping came from a dark corner, making Scott’s heart leap out of his throat as well as push Alan behind himself. Glaring as much as he could towards the invisible evil-doer, Scott didn’t have to think twice, “Alan, take my map and find Virgil and Gordon.”

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

Listening to the field commander’s orders, Scott felt his wristband slip off his wrist and a warm body leave his vicinity. An inhale. Also good. An exhale, followed by an even darker glare, “What more do you want?”

Short and straight-to-the-point and angry, two things Scott typically wasn’t. Regardless, like a cold gust of wind, footsteps started approaching him from the shadow. Once Scott saw the outline of a body, he tensed even more. Virgil would snap at him for clenching his jaw so much.

A dark chuckle reminded him of what was important. The voice that spoke reminded him of something completely different, “Now then, brother, let’s not be rude to each other!”

Scott’s pupils shrunk at the familiar sight of Gordon stepping towards him. Except it wasn’t Gordon, because Scott knew that Gordon knew better. He also knew Gordon didn’t cheekily smile like that, even after a prank, nor did he walk that straight. He always had a funny walk after WASP, and Gordon wore that fact like a badge of honor.

Oh no, Scott definitely knew who this was, “What the hell are you playing at?”

Fake-Gordon rolled his eyes, like it wasn’t obvious, “I mean if we want to go that route, why did kid insist you being in the military was the coolest thing he’d ever heard you do? Maybe I wouldn’t have been pressured into joining a branch myself in the end.”

Scott’s nostrils flared, and by God, his pupils might have actually slitted like a snake’s, or possibly even a dragon’s, “Excuse me?”

Scott blinked, and suddenly he was met by not-Virgil, “Plus, why was our conclusion after hearing a three-year-old wanting to see snow to go to a ski resort? It had to have been those big, selfish, beady eyes, right?”

“C’mon, Scotty, we gotta give you some kind of calming exercise. There’s going to come a time when neither me or John are going to be there.”

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

A snort, “Well, that’s not too bad of an idea. Maybe the person pissing you off will stop whatever they’re doing at the sight of you spontaneously doing downward dog.”

Laughter, an unfamiliar action, “Yeah, okay, but for real, those breathing exercises I’ve seen you do look okay. Let’s start there.”

Scott was not a liar by heart. He had to admit that those exercises were doing jack shit right about now.

Another blink, another brother. Familiar ginger hair was all Scott could see, “To continue that previous point, why did Dad start International Rescue again? And what led to his demise?”

“Sounds like a piece of work. Why do you keep dealing with these people again?”

“Someone has to pay the bills, Johnny. Grandma’s too focused on making the perfect poison for us.”

A roll of eyes, “Right, because the billions we have saved wouldn’t be enough to last a couple of families a few lifetimes. Glad to see your calming exercises are working at least. How’s that going for you, by the way?”

A pause. A flicker of vision around the room. Someone cleared their throat, probably himself, “It’s probably not as bad as whatever space is throwing at you. You handling it okay up there?”

Another pause, followed by a sigh, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Scott wanted to deflect the truth so badly right now more than anything else. Telling him he couldn’t pilot ‘One anymore would be a much more enticing option than what he was hearing.

Suddenly, Scott was looking in a mirror, “Besides, I know more than anybody that he wasn’t wanted. A mistake. I thought we Tracys hated being imperfect?”

The Hood must have known their backstories from internet articles, and being the mastermind he was, it probably took him all of three seconds to see Alan had some hidden self-worth issues. By playing the biggest Guess Who? game of all time, The Hood was most likely able to figure out some less-than-positive ideals Alan thought about himself throughout his childhood and danced circles around his already weakened mind to string together some spineless blame to put on the kid by sheer evilness alone.

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

Scott wasn’t thinking straight-- maybe even at all when the first punch was thrown.

Just like that, Scott blacked out and was running on terminator mode. John would be disappointed. Virgil would be horrified. Gordon might find it funny. Alan wasn’t here, and thank God for that. Scott wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. All his mind was telling him was make lots of pain hard and fast. His brain also blocked out any hit The Hood was giving him in return. Pain flared for a few seconds, then it was swept away in the puddle of rage his mind was currently being consumed in.

Soon, his out-of-it mind found its target and gripped his-- The Hood’s arm, no disguise would make him have an identity crisis, thank you very much-- nice and rough.

Scott heard the familiar snap of cartilage and felt only partially bad. If he was thinking more clearly, he would be disgusted with himself. Yes, even The Hood didn’t deserve this level of Scott’s fury. Oh, he definitely deserved to be hit by a truck, but not by Scott. It was mostly due to Scott’s sanity. If he could be this graphic and violent at all, even to the worse possible criminals, that meant he could be that way during other moments, and that was not a territory he wanted to cross into.

Welp, he was here now, and he’ll hate to admit it in the future, but the only thing that brought him out of it was a tiny gasp from a few feet away. Snapping his head up, Scott’s eyes landed squarely on a smaller-than-normal Alan, who was currently clutching his arm to his chest in an emotion Scott didn’t want to figure out at the moment. So much for going and finding Virgil and Gordon.

“Allie, help…” fake him grunted out, only making real Scott growl and tighten his hold (and probably making his case worse). Looking up from the person in his arms, Scott felt his heart split in two at the sight. There was fear and uncertainty in Alan’s blue eyes and boy did it hurt. Scott couldn’t tell if it was because even seeing a potentially-fake Scott being beaten up was bad or if it was because he’d never seen big brother be this brutal, even towards their enemies. Whatever the reason, it involved Scott being the main root of the problem.

Wait, that was The Hood’s plan. Shit… make Scott act past the point of no return in a way that was unfamiliar to Alan so the kid couldn’t be fully sure who was who, and Scott fell right into his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

Scott faltered a little bit, “A-Alan, I--”

That falter was enough for The Hood to break an arm out of his grip and elbow him in the face. In the brief second of freedom he had, he tried dashing towards Alan, but Scott was too quick for everyone’s good and soon had the imposter back in his arms, both of them struggling in a way that made them look like they were tied into the weirdest knot in existence.

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

A big shake of the abandoned compound threw the look-a-likes about and subsequently off the platform they were on. The place was old; it didn’t take a lot of weight for that guard rail they made their way over towards while fighting to snap right off. With a yelp, the two of them gripped the edge as much as they could and held on. Crap, I know we talked with Fuse about potentially setting some stuff off, but--

Blinking, Scott saw a familiar mop of blonde hair come into view. Alan was rather panicked, clearly not sure which Scott was the real Scott. Not only that, he had little time to decide which one to save. Goodie, another reason to despise The Hood: not only has he put Alan through weeks of torment, now he’s forcing the kid to decide to either save his oldest brother and biggest hero or his personal torturer.

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

Holy hell, this was getting worse by the second. Hopefully, big brother charm can work its magic and get them the hell out of there.

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

“I can’t hold on for much longer, Alan, hurry!”

The two Scotts glared at one another in the exact same way, not making Alan’s job much easier. Another shake, another slip down the metal cliff, more screams, and Alan looked ready to tear his hair out. Scott watched as the kid looked around rapidly, probably praying for a miracle in the process. Suddenly, the kid jumped when he must have spotted something important. Within the blink of an eye, he was gone and out of their range of visions to retrieve it.

Whatever the hell he noticed better be important, because if just ended up wasting precious time then--

Another shake, probably the last one. Still, it was enough.

Both their grips gave away at the same time, screams identical (God, did he always sound that wimpy?) as they plummeted to their demises. Scott was briefly able to look up to see his brother pop his head over the cliff like a chipmunk again and grab the (albeit broken) arm of The Hood and save him. Dammit, Scott should have expected that, though, that display of anger was uncharacteristic to Alan. Probably terrified him even more than he already was. Fuck, Scott deser--

Suddenly, a rope wrapped itself around Scott’s left arm and stopped his descent. Hard. Hopefully, it was only torn stuff, they didn’t have time to deal with dislocation--

Wait.

Scott wasn’t dead if he could think about these kinds of things.

Blinking, he looked at his arm to see the familiar rope of his grappling hook around his forearm. Moving his eyesight to look past that, he saw the wide, blue eyes of his baby brother struggling to stay on top. The Hood was using his non-broken side to try and climb his way back up to safety. Huh, that’s weird. When did Alan get ahold of that? Scott must have dropped it during his scuffle with--

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

Alan saved them both.

And it would be all for jack shit if Scott didn’t get his ass up there to help.

Panicking, Scott gripped the rope and started to ascend. He had two working arms and a smother complex to boot; it wasn’t long before he overtook a struggling Hood, who could only use one arm and a weakened brother (that bastard was so lucky Alan had a literal heart of gold).

Flinging his arms over the edge and pulling himself up-- and shrugging off the extra help Alan offered. Save your strength, baby bro-- Scott was in a much calmer search-and-destroy mode. He yanked his evil look-a-like up, turned him on his stomach, pinned him down, and before he could even watch Alan blink, “Sign something.”

There, now he watched Alan blink.

Scott pulled out one of his best ‘big brother’ smiles ever, “Tell me something in ASL. I don’t think The Hood learned that kind of etiquette.”

The body beneath him growled, making Alan jump and Scott tighten not only his hold but his glare. Further prove big brother’s point, why don’t cha? He lost the angry look immediately to grin at Alan once more, who seemed to be slowly getting the picture. With a gulp, the blonde slowly strung together a sentence that Scott had to laugh at, just a little bit.

Damn, could you teach me to fight like that, Scooter?

Nodding his head, Scott had to concede, “Sure. Consider it a graduation present.”

Alan blinked again, and the immense relief that washed over the boy’s shoulders would be enough to banish nightmares for at least a couple of days. Suddenly, The Hood’s disguise blinked out of existence, making both brothers jump that time. Scott didn’t falter in his grip, however. This man was going down right here and now, Scott thought darkly, staring at the prone body beneath his.

Scott saw Alan continue to sign out of the corner of his eye, You know you look like shit, right?

Scott chuckled. Alan was always able to put a smile on his face no matter the circumstances, “Yeah, well, kindred spirits, little bro.”

Scott was probably as pale as Alan was with such lack of sleep and food. Running on what was essentially a prolonged PTSD attack wasn’t healthy in the slightest, and no doubt whatever kind of bruises and scratches The Hood gave him didn’t help, however, seeing hope fill those deep-blue eyes when Alan learned he was truly being saved drowned everything out, including the way those freckles were getting lost in those eye bags.

Yeah, their entire family probably looked like shit, and the recovery process was going to be even shittier, but they were going to suffer through it together as a family would.

That made it all worth it.

Shuffling himself so one arm was free while the other kept The Hood pinned, Scott held it out towards Alan. The flinch the youngest made tore a hole in Scott’s heart that was only slightly patched when Alan leaned into the warmth and safety of his biggest bro. Long recovery process, remember? Regardless, Alan still took to the hug like a dehydrated zebra did a pond, and that was good enough for Scott.

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.

[xiaolindude]

Muse file.

Tagged by: @pcrticlvcid​. Thanks lovely ~! ♥

Tagging: @runningracingdancingchasing​ / @cauterisen​ / @shesdaylight​ / @stereotypcd​ / @icecurse​ / @manaborn​ + you~

BASICS!

AGE: Verse-dep. (usually anywhere between 16-26) GENDER: Male. SEXUALITY: Bisexual, biromantic. INTROVERT, EXTROVERT, OR OMNIVERT?: Omnivert masquerading as an extrovert most of the time. HEIGHT: 5′9″ as an adult (fully grown). BODY TYPE: Average height, lean but strong. Athletically built rather than having a bulky frame. Naturally quite light due to his element EYES: Dark green  HEALTH: Generally good, has a good immune system and good fitness (I hc health is also positively influenced by being a Dragon). Most health issues are injuries rather than illnesses MEDICATION: None. TEMPERAMENT: Generally fairly laidback, always playful and with a good sense of humour, sometimes struggles to take things too seriously. Free and changeable as the wind he commands. Usually in fairly good spirits, but quick to become sarcastic. Can get very competitive depending on the situation. Can become something of a workaholic and can be very determined under certain situations. Can get moody and tends to remove himself from people’s company when this is the case.

FAMILY!

FATHER: Manoel Bernal (dec.) MOTHER: Sophia Pedrosa SIBLINGS: 8 brothers and sisters: Camilla, Larissa, Izabel (his three older sisters) and Antonio, Doretéia, João, Thiago, Manoela (his five younger brothers and sisters) SPOUSE: None. CHILDREN: None. PETS: none / Niño Ronaldo the stoat (in some verses)

ADDITIONAL!

SMOKES: no / sometimes (verse dep) DRINKS: Socially / to excess (verse dep) DRUGS: no / regularly (verse dep) DIET: adaptable. changeable. he isn’t particularly fussy. not huge on some vegetable (if they’re left plain) but likes them fine when they’re put with other things. no specific dietary requirements and no big food groups he avoids ALLERGIES / INTOLERANCE: none that he knows of  TATTOOS: depends on which point he’s at in the timeline, but in every single verse I have, rai gets tattoos as an adult. He adds to them slowly and eventually probably has some across his chest, an entire sleeve, the other wrist, his collar bone, back, shoulder blades etc PIERCINGS: one earlobe pierced (again, verse/timeline dep.) MAKE-UP: none JEWELERY: his one earring, bracelets, his amulet GLASSES / CONTACTS?:  no, though i hc years of looking at scrolls by candelight eventually leads him to need glasses, at least for reading PERFUME?: no, usually just deo. sometimes a dash of cologne but very rarely

MISC!

WRITES LOVE POETRY?: Not at all, he’s not a poetry fan and he himself isn’t particularly poetic or traditionally romantic CELEBRATES BIRTHDAY?: yeah, but not to excess. he tries to milk it and make the most of it and will be like ‘um you can’t be mean to me, it’s my birthday’ for the entire WEEK of his birthday, but he doesn’t actually expect much. he’s from a poor family with a LOT of kids after all, so when people make a real big deal out of it and get him presents, he’s surprised but delighted FAVOURITE COLOUR?: changes pretty often, he doesn’t get attached. but he likes orange (warm orange, not like neon orange), green and red SLEEPS?: either for too long or not long enough, rarely an actual GOOD amount. he has to get up early for training and stuff, and he’s usually not too bad at falling asleep (because he’s often exhausted by the time night rolls around), but when he becomes leader, his sleep declines a little because his head is full with all the stuff he has to think about and the worries and responsibilities and stuff HAS PLUSHIES?: He has Ninja Fred, a teddy bear from his childhood that he’s kept with him even into adulthood as a ‘good luck charm’ (it’s more sentimental than that, but shhh no telling) MUSIC TASTE?: Very eclectic and changes as he grows up. He goes from mostly rap/hip hip (because it was ‘cool’), to mostly pop punk, rock and indie. But it’s very varied generally READS?: scrolls mostly (in mainverse) but he does actually like reading for pleasure too when he has the time and energy. in that case, it’s mostly fiction (such as adventure, thrillers, crime etc) FONDEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY: pretty much anything with his dad, but maybe when his dad started teaching him how to surf. manoel was very determined and encouraging and rai wanted to be just like him. they had so much fun together - rai tries not to think about it too often, because it makes him happy but then that joy runs cold, and he becomes very sad instead SINGS IN SHOWER?: Absolutely! every day, sometimes twice a day. he’ll sing/hum/whistle whatever is in his head

[chappell-roans]

taking aside elliot (and his personalities, as the narrator), who is in your opinion the most 1) complex and 2) interesting character and why? can be be same but doesn’t have to be :)

Sorry it took so long to get to this ask, I wanted to make sure I had thought it out and had time to give a (hopefully!) good response. And thank you for taking aside Elliot and any of his alters, otherwise you would’ve gotten a mouthful about him! This is such an interesting question I was so excited to receive.

I’m not going to try and delve into any minor characters and since you asked for my opinion, it’s going to be biased toward characters I like more. That being said, I’m going to talk about two characters and give some honorable mentions at the end, because this is a great show with great characters. Note: there will be major spoilers, including from the series finale, ahead! Everything is below the cut since this ended up being almost 2k words...oops.

1) Most complex

I think out of the pool of main characters, I’d have to choose Darlene. She is erratic and people would be quick to label her a “chaotic” good, neutral or evil personality type, but it’s so much more than that. I liked her but didn’t totally love her on my first watch of the show, and I almost feel like that’s a good thing. She makes some really tough and sometimes reprehensible choices. She is not perfect, she is nothing near it, and she knows it well. But looking back and especially when I rewatched and could take the final season into account, she is an incredible complex, troubled, real character.

She came from a very middle class background, from a mixed-race family and dealt with the death of her father at a very young age (he abused Elliot, which it appears she did not know or understand), then abuse from her mother while Elliot was unreachable at times (not putting him at fault, though she might blame him at times from her perspective). She even ran away/was kidnapped at 5 years old and it was essentially the best day of her life. Let’s just say…she’s fucked up. And she knows it. And she doesn’t apologize for it. 

It’s fascinating that she has so much anger and hatred in her and a sense of injustice in the world, she has panic attacks, she has nightmares and bad memories, but she doesn’t hate herself (until post-5/9, anyway). She accepts herself, good, bad and ugly. She is unapologetic. She is cold and rude sometimes and she is a survivor. She’s very smart, smarter than she thinks at times (that’s where her bit of self doubt does show up, again, post-5/9) and she is powerful. She thrives on that, but she wants to stay anonymous. She really wants the power to go to the people. She got to redistribute the wealth.

Going back to her upbringing, she is also desperate for attention but knows how to conduct herself (mostly). She is seemingly jealous of the relationship Elliot and Edward have because she was never close with their dad (which…just…you know…) and her brother was always special, got attention from doctors because of his mental illness and he is a genius. To an adult, this is all sad, but to a child, especially a significantly younger sibling (she is 4 years younger than Elliot, but when you’re young that’s a big difference), that is a ridiculous amount of attention from parents, teachers and therapists that she wasn’t getting. 

So even when she’s older, she continues to act out. She constantly swears, she dresses provocatively at times, she has a short fuse. She is not a “lady” and she is not quiet. She is sexual and uses sex to get information, first in season 1 with the corporate guy she slept with and stole his gun, then in late season 2 with Dom for her FBI credentials (though it’s confirmed there were feelings involved and they actually have feelings for each other). 

On the flip side, she has panic attacks and it’s confirmed she has had them for years, likely since childhood, which makes sense given her traumatic past. She shows herself at times for being small, still a little girl. She is sometimes detached from bad things happening and even likes some of them. But she still has morals and she still knows right and wrong, though the distinction in her mind may not be conventional or acceptable by society. But she sticks to it and lives by her own rules that were shaped by years of felt neglect, abuse, running wild and taking down an economic system. 

She is not always likeable, and characters don’t have to be for you to root for or enjoy them and I definitely feel that way about Darlene.

2) Most interesting

For me, Angela was super interesting (I know, that’s an unpopular opinion). She is also complex, but not in the same way as Darlene. Angela is motivated (that right there could be the whole sentence. Girl is MOTIVATED.) to get justice for her mother’s death, at almost any cost. She is so determined and plays the game so differently from Elliot and Darlene. She takes Colby’s suggestion and works to take down the people at E-Corp who are responsible for her mother’s death from the inside. 

Angela is one of the most relentless characters I’ve ever seen, especially a female character. Yes, she draws on her femininity and sexuality at times (very minimally, especially considering her beauty imo), but she truly gets by and excels using her wit, her cunning, her knowledge and her gut. She can read people and figure out what they want and what they can give her in return. She keeps herself alive (for a while...and thanks for asking, I’m still not okay from that opening scene of this season) against all odds and even Whiterose, perhaps the most powerful person in the world, takes notice.

Her determination is her downfall, but that is also beautiful in its way. It is tragic, but she is a tragic character. She does not give up despite the fact that she should be broken after everything she has been through and seen. But she doesn’t give up. Whether what she did was “wrong” or “right” is irrelevant in that way. I’d also like to note that she spiraled at the end because she did not only think she was doing the right thing, but she thought no one would be harmed. When she knew the truth, that she had been lied to and played, she could not handle it. Yet she came back from it and I wish we could’ve seen the moves she would’ve taken for the retribution she wanted. I’d like to think it was not only because of the hell she went through, but also to get revenge for all those people who died.

But anyway, I think she and Elliot are somehow opposites yet so similar it hurts. They both are so isolated (besides a love interest or family member or friend here or there...and most of those overlap in each other and Darlene) and want change so much. But this is about Angela. Her intense insecurity is fascinating and it is interesting to see who sees through it and who doesn’t. I also love that even early on, despite her insecurities, she doesn’t take shit. She dumped Ollie and even got revenge with the CD (we know how that worked out, but still). She knows what she deserves but because of her perseverance, she puts herself in situations where she is treading water, like taking the job at E-Corp. 

Honorable mentions:

Dom. She cares so intensely for her family and for what is right, and for her, her morals are very clear and stay on the side of the law, but she is smart enough to know what lines are worth crossing. She is all about the greater good. She works so hard to protect everyone that she forgets herself and is so intensely lonely. Even with a strong and even supportive family unit. And that representation hit so close to home and I just really love Dom.

I also find her so interesting in that she projects such confidence and is so outgoing despite her awkwardness and anxieties. She is friends with the local convenience store owner, she shows up at suspects houses unannounced, she is loud and unapologetic and confident. But when she’s alone, she feels so alone and lonely and miserable. This is a show about isolation, after all. But she truly puts her all into her job. I especially loved Dom in my rewatch, she really is smart and fun to watch a lot of the time.

Whiterose. Obviously. We got tidbits all along the way and from her brief appearance in season one and then her conversation with Dom in season 2 while in China, I was dying to know more. Those are probably still two of my favorite scenes of hers. With what we learned in the final season and especially that 1/3 of an episode that was dedicated to her and her story, I think she is both complex and interesting and an amazing antagonist. She so believes she is right, it’s hard not to believe her and so easy to want to believe her, especially since she believes in her new world so deeply. Her story is also tragic and while she isn’t a favorite character of mine, she definitely stands out and is fascinating.

Tyrell. I had to finally put a guy in here, right? Even if you love Tyrell, you hate him and even if you hate Tyrell, you love him. He provides so much emotion and comic relief at times and romanticism and is our look at a disgruntled 1%, a foil to some of the other main characters. I don’t even know myself if I love or hate him, but I know I enjoy a lot of his scenes. 

He so desperately doesn’t want to become his father, because his father had nothing and died with nothing. However, in his own death episode, he admits that he is living wrong because he cares so much about what other people think. So perhaps that was a good ending to his arc, especially given the context of the show...wealth is fake and he has been chasing it so long to feel something, but still it makes him feel nothing except shame, exactly what he was avoiding in the first place! He wanted to destroy E-Corp (and then the Deus Group) because of what had happened to him personally, but it finally dawned on him that none of it mattered anyway. And then he died.

So...yeah! Those are some of my really drawn-out Mr. Robot thoughts and I know I had more ideas I wanted to share but I’ll end it here for now. If you you anyone else wants to discuss more in depth, trust me I’m happy to go there! If you made it this far, thanks for reading and let me know what you think! x