#Tracy how DARE you do this to me

[shayminlucario07]

Okay y'all. The big Post-Oathbound Analysis/Thoughts/Critique(?). Spoilers ahead, read at your own risk!

(This was written over the course of two days in four separate sittings, and the entirety of it was written while I was out of ADHD medication. So this is probably going to be very disjointed and incomprehensible. Sorry!)

Of course, it would be criminal to start anywhere other than the center of it all- Bree. While I have some qualms about Bree's arc in Oathbound, they are small and few, and almost exclusively have nothing to do with Bree herself. Following Bloodmarked, it was very necessary for Bree to have the chance to make a clean break from the expectations put on her for her abilities- and to be able to define for herself, with the knowledge of why she has her abilities, what their purpose- and her purpose- will be. I do take some issue with the conceit of Bree losing the identities of the people she cares about, but ultimately it serves extremely well to show that Bree is not the way she is- is not WHO she is- due to their presence, nor their influence, but rather because that is who she is. And I think it's so telling that the first construct she is ever able to use her Root to construct is a shield- especially when she specifically sought out, from the whole line of Vera, a method to use it as a weapon. In order for Bree to be able to use her Root to attack, she must know how to use it to defend- first herself, and then others.

One moment of Bree's arc I particularly loved was when she, Zoe, and Elijah took the time to establish an environment where they could each safely, comfortably, and non-judgementally articulate their respective queerness, with the twins helping and encouraging Bree to put her own queer identity into words for the first time. (A brilliant moment regardless, but also an excellent example of my earlier note about Bree being able to define her own self.) I know from personal experience- on both the Bree side, as the one first articulating their identity, and on the twins' side, as the guiding figure- how meaningful and important that experience is, and I can only imagine how much more significant that experience is for Bree with everyone involved being Black.

And of course, how can I not talk about Bree and Nick, finally being able to reunite properly after Bloodmarked, and finally having the time to figure out their relationship beyond the new, tenuous thing it was at the end of Legendborn? In Bloodmarked, both Nick and Bree were broken down to their lowest, and had to build themselves back up from that- and they had to do that apart from each other. And after both of them worked on themselves, working through their own issues and reaching the point where they were able to stand on their own in confidence, they were able to come together on that shared new ground and figure out what they wanted from each other for themselves. Finally, after two-and-a-half books of others- Alice, Sel, William, Mariah, Valec, Zoe... basically everyone- calling Bree and Nick an item, defining their relationship before they had a chance to truly explore it for themselves... it was gratifying. After how little screentime (Can you use that term when talking about a book?) Nick- and by extension, Nick and Bree's relationship- got throughout Bloodmarked, it was lovely seeing the two together again.

And that, naturally, brings me to Bree and Selwyn. Bree and Sel's friendship began quite late into the events of Legendborn, but from almost the very start of the two learning respect and trust for each other, there was a distinct romantic and sexual tension- from Bree encountering Sel shirtless in one of their first interactions that wasn't explicitly antagonistic, to the iconic "Cariad" scene- and this tension carried forward into Bloodmarked. Due to Nick's absence throughout most of Bloodmarked, his and Bree's relationship becomes a major focus throughout the book, and the two- and their relationship, in turn- undergoes a great deal of development. However, throughout Oathbound, Selwyn is mostly absent, like Nick was in Bloodmarked. As such, there is similarly little relationship progression between him and Bree; I'll refrain from talking about their relationship in Oathbound until the discussion of Selwyn as a whole, as there isn't much development therein, but what is worth noting is that when Bree loses part of her soul, she forgets the tension between herself and Sel, where she doesn't for Nick. Personally, I interpreted this to be a result of her most prominent feeling being her feeling of responsibility for his Demonia, whereas her most prominent feeling for Nick being a result of having to leave him behind, when he was running for her.

Moving on to our secondary characters, we'll start how the book itself does- with William. Now, don't get me wrong- I love William. However. I... really don't know why he was a point-of-view character in this book? Beyond the scene where he tells Lark about the abuse Nick faced as a child, his only purpose as a POV character seems to be to obfuscate Nick, and this scene could easily be delivered through a flashback from Nick's own point-of-view. Alternately, William's point-of-view could have been used more through the latter half of the book- which would also serve as a way to check in with the rest of the Order, such as Greer, who are very absent throughout the majority of Oathbound. Seeing William and Lark's tension develop was quite nice, though.

Mariah, on the other hand, was quite a neat new perspective. While she is a medium like Bree, her own variation of Medium abilities are very interestingly different, and through the vehicle of Mariah's perspective, we get to see more of Valechaz and the Rootcrafter network, the two most interesting aspects of Bloodmarked, in my opinion. It was also lovely to see how utterly Mariah and her aunts were so devoted to helping Bree- she deserves that level of dedication, and it was absolutely heartening to see Bree get the love and respect she deserves, after two books of the Order- and frankly, most others- treating her like shit.

Elijah and Zoelle were absolute delights. The two gave so much context to Erebus. Also, Zoe being a badass trans cambion? Iconic. I loved how she joined in on Bree and Mariah's girltalk so seamlessly, and it was wonderful to see her shame Bree on keeping her boy drama secret.

Speaking of Bree's boy drama... Nick Davis. While he had a whole character arc off-page in Bloodmarked, it was entirely possible to fill in the blanks of what we didn't see with his presence in Oathbound. I am incredibly proud of how he stepped up to force the Order to face the dark truth of how Bree became the Scion of Arthur- especially considering how closely tied he himself is to that abhorrent history. Seeing Nick finally openly face, acknowledge, and denounce the disgusting and horrific nature of the Order was cathartic. His example is one that I hope to follow, no matter how inconvenient and uncomfortable it is.

And finally, one cannot talk about Selwyn Kane in Oathbound without simultaneously talking about Natasia Kane. Finally getting to see Natasia was immensely satisfying, given how much build-up she's had throughout the series, and seeing her wholehearted devotion to Faye- even without the knowledge that Faye was the Scion of Arthur- serves to highlight not only how genuinely wonderful the Matthews women are, but also to showcase how the Kingsmages feel the draw to serve and protect their king, even if they don't know who their king truly is. But that isn't to insinuate that the only thing drawing Natasia and Selwyn to Faye and Bree is their status as the Scion of Arthur- because truly, that's all their own. Bree, like her mother before her, earns that devotion on her own merit, and is not defined by her bloodline. Natasia's love for Faye was so beautifully true that it extended to her husband and daughter, too, and it was a delight to see how utterly willing she was to act in defense of Edwin and Bree. Personally, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a bit more to Natasia's devotion to Faye than mere friendship alone, but even if it is just platonic friendship, the strength of their relationship is one that I can only dream of achieving myself one day.

As for Sel... seeing his Demonia progress was painful to witness. At no point was he not himself throughout the book, it was horrifying to see how his worst characteristics were forced to the forefront above all else. The combination of his own personal dedication to Bree and his Demonia-induced craving for her Root twisted his affection for her into something that just felt sinister, even if he never explicitly took hostile action against Bree. Seeing him treat Nick and Bree as cruelly as he does- especially knowing the history he and Nick have of doing exactly that- was heartrending, but seeing the level of care that they still held for him, even in the wake of this treatment gives me faith for the future. The thing that must be remembered is that Sel willingly chose this for himself, because he decided Bree was worth it. I know for a fact that Nick feels exactly the same, and that shared absolute devotion to her is without a doubt going to help bridge the newly-widened gap between them. And of course, there's Bree herself- Bree, who can do anything she puts her mind to. If she wants to help bring Sel back to himself- and I wholeheartedly believe that she does- she will succeed. Those three care for each other so deeply that I cannot doubt they'll make it through this.

And finally, the reveal of reveals- that Selwyn Kane is the son of the Shadow King. What will this mean? Well... I have some ideas, I think. I have no doubt that this is going to cause some pretty damn sizeable relationship drama, to say the least, but I don't believe for a second that Sel is going to become a major antagonist- or even an antagonist at all, for that matter. Legendborn, as a series, is intrinsically tied to the past- specifically, to the pain within it, how that affects us in our current lives, and how we can and should carry that forward, letting it inform how we go about our lives and guide us onto a better path than we had been on before. This isn't a series with one antagonist, one enemy to overcome- the conflict is systemic, not individual. The efforts against Bree are not the result of actions by any one specific person, but the structural, systemic racism of the Legendborn Order. It is not the regents' plots to lock her away and usurp her, and experiment on her, and use her as a pawn in their games; it is not Vaughn and Tor and their overt racism towards her; it is not the widespread distrust that the Order has for her as an outsider, both an outsider of the Order and as a Black girl; it is all of this, together, compounding on itself. It is the structure as a whole being designed against not just her, but everyone not at the top of the ladder; it is the exploitation of the Scions, and the Legions; it is the Abatement, and throwing the lives of people of all kinds into the meat grinder, not to end the danger that the Shadowborn pose, but to prolong the war and preserve the position of power that the Regents and the highborn of the Order hold; it is the systematic hunting of Rootcrafters, Morgaines, and any users of magic not under the oppression of the Order; it is the meticulous, eugenicist controlling of "bloodline purity" to preserve the inheritance of the Lines, and produce stronger Merlins that will be more reliant on the Oaths, and controlling of every little facet of the Scions' lives up to, during, and after their awakening.

When Bree asked Nick if he would stand with her if she wanted to burn it all to the ground, that was not a hypothetical. At least, that is what I believe. The Legendborn legacy is one of pain and suffering- and that is not just true for their own. The Rootcrafters suffer beneath the totalitarian oppression of the Order; even the Shadowborn themselves are impacted extremely negatively by the war's perpetuation! We have seen, with Valechaz and his brokering of contracts, with Zoe and Elijah and their willingness to aid Bree in saving Rootcrafters they don't even know from being harvested as fuel by Shadowborn, even the Shadow King that they are personal wards of, and more, that even those "On the wrong side" of the war are impacted negatively by the war, how they are harmed by it, and how they are denied the chance to thrive in harmony with the world, by those in power on all sides- by the Legendborn Order, by the Shadow King and his Nightshade court, and by every structure of power in place that perpetuates the cycle. This is the conflict of the series, and this is the obstacle that Bree and her allies work to overcome and defeat. Not any individual or individuals, but the systems that they participate in, perpetuate, and control. And even if this conflict can be fixated down to a few specific individuals, Selwyn Kane is not one of them, even as the son of the Shadow King.

Our main trio, Bree, Sel, and Nick, are three of the most powerful entities in the plot. Bree, the Scion of Arthur and the strongest Rootcrafter currently alive. Sel, the son of the Shadow King and of one of the strongest Merlins in history. Nick, the Scion of Lancelot, raised to be the heir of the entire Legendborn order. And of course, that's not even all of the players on the board- there's Valechaz, a balanced Cambion, son of a Nightshade, and major power player in the demonic world; there's Mariah, who very much seems to have been established as the heiress of the Grand Dame, who can use her medium abilities to restrict the Shadowborn and those in league with them; there's William, the Scion of Gawain, who for two hours every day is the most physically powerful person there is, and who is a master of aether healing; and of course, there is Alice Chen, who in her very brief appearance in Oathbound, is established to be actively defying death by sheer force of will alone, has seemingly developed her own supernatural abilities entirely independent of any established form of inheritance, and whose intelligence and stubbornness allowed her to overcome a mesmer from a master- because I don't believe that it was Bree's power alone that made Alice immune to mesmers. There is Natasia Kane, one of the most powerful Merlins in the history of the Order who was able to overcome being cast out from the Order and denied her Oaths, consigned to progressing in her Demonia beyond the point of any Merlin's recorded survival; and there is an entire new generation of Legendborn Scions and Squires, and past generations of Legendborn Lieges and even Vassals that could turn away from the Order and follow Bree- and I believe that several of them will. All of these people, all at different levels of power and influence, working in concert to overcome the structures set against them and create something new and better in its wake, are all but guaranteed to succeed.

When book four comes around, while I'm afraid for the future of the characters we love- including and especially Sel, for whom I have a very great affinity, and whose fate seems to be the most potentially tragic- I have both enough faith in Tracy Deonn's writing and understanding of the story she has written, and enough faith in the characters within it, to be truly afraid for the future of the series and its characters. I want what is best for these characters who I love, and I have full faith in both them and in Tracy Deonn to bring that about.

TL;DR, while I felt there were flaws in Oathbound, its story, and its structure, I am eager and excited for the future of the series and optimistic that things will end well for those involved, and I will be waiting very impatiently for the next book. I do not believe that Selwyn will become an antagonist, and still hold absolute faith that he, Nick, and Bree will all end up happily in the end, together, as they care far too much about each other to let any of them fall. There is far more in store for Alice Chen than any of us know, and of course, Bree Matthews will accomplish everything she puts her mind to- of that, I am certain, and I cannot wait to see it.

[chipperchemical]

assigning a devastating quote to each Life Series member because i want to ruin your day (feel free to suggest alternatives!)

Bdubs - "I love you. It will end." (Anna Belle Kaufman, "Cold Solace")

BigB - "I never expected you to actually finish anything. You were always leaving. I always picture you with a suitcase in your hand." (Margarita Karapanou)

Etho - "What are you doing, you wretch, killing your own son, burning him, it's the same old story, it starts with a lamb and ends with the murder of the person you should love most." (José Saramago, "Cain")

Gem - "God never gave me a single useable passion, but did give me sharp teeth and a strong jaw." (Traci Brimhall, "The Fate of my Seven Husbands")

Scar - "It was then that Sisyphus realised the gods must be gone, that his wings were nothing more than a perception of their absence. He dared to raise his fist to the sky. Nothing, gloriously, happened. Then a different terror overtook him." (Stephen Dunn, "Sisyphus and The Sudden Lightness")

Grian - "You're addicted to loneliness and desperation. It's the strongest emotion you've ever known, so your subconscious tells you that it's your destiny. You will be alone always and then you will die." (Heather Havrilesky, entry for the "Ask Polly" column)

Impulse - "Grieving, grieving, constantly grieving. I mourn what could have been, what will not be, what I can't save." (tumblr user "ojibwa")

Martyn - "Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was always just red." (Kait Rokowski)

Lizzie - "This was always going to happen. She's been dead since the beginning." (Aeschylus, "The Oresteia")

Mumbo - "I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow." (Hélène Cixous, "The Love of the Wolf")

Pearl - "You want to be loved if only to prove it possible: to tell the world that someone saw you as a conquest and came back alive." (Silas Denver Melvin, "Love as an Act of Merciful Conquer")

Ren - "My God, my God, whose performance am I watching? How many people am I? Who am I? What is this space between myself and myself?" (Fernando Pessoa, "The Book of Disquiet")

Skizz - "Better creatures could love you, I know. But now they'll have to get through me." (tumblr user "ihopewestay")

Scott - "She decides God is no good, but he must exist, he must exist so she can hold him accountable." (Ada Limón, "The Echo Sounder")

Joel - "I've always preferred Cain. His angry loneliness, his lack of mother's love, his Christian sarcasm: "Am I my brother's keeper?" asks his brother's murderer. Aren't we indeed the keepers of our dead?" (Valzhyna Mort, "Genesis")

Jimmy - "I won't last. Memory is sweet. Even when it's painful, memory is sweet." (Li-Young Lee, "Mnemonic")

Tango - "Isn't all that rage so ugly? And isn't it mine, still? Good God, isn't it mine?" (Ashe Vernon, "Buried")

Cleo - "God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wanted forgiveness, he shouldn't have given us memory." (Vi Khi Nao, "Fish In Exile")

[turbulentscrawl]

Protection

Yet another little blurb series that absolutely no one asked me for. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? WHATEVER GETS THE JUICES FLOWING AGAIN.

warnings for violence, angst, and comfort. Use of potentially triggering words like "psycho" and "whore."

The manor was a hard adjustment for any new face, but some handled it worse than others. This mystery man was particularly defensive, particularly paranoid of the manor’s nightmarish circumstances. He was stressed, and scared, and confused, and bleeding out in his first match was the last straw needed to tip the scales towards an outburst.

Norton

You were just trying to be friendly when you spoke to him at breakfast. Really. But looking back you could see how a terrified mind might misconstrue your small comforts and placations about death as mocking. He stormed off mid-meal, and you spent the rest of it stewing in quiet guilt. A walk in the gardens would do you some good, you decided, but Norton was still busy with his second helping of steak and eggs and told you to go on ahead.

So alone you exited the room, lost in regretful thoughts, but you didn’t make it halfway down the hall before the new guy appeared again. He stopped down ten feet from you, coiled tight like a cornered animal. He didn’t look like he had calmed down at all, but then he hadn’t seemed calm since he arrived. In any case, it seemed like the best chance you would get to give an apology.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier,” you said, stepping aside to let the fearful man pass, so he could go finish his meal.

But he reacted to your words like a viper strike, flinching and then snapping forward to put his face in yours. His eyes were wild.

“Don’t play coy about it,” he hissed. His hands, at his sides, itched and twitched to grab and you were too fear frozen to move away from them. “You’re part of this hell too, I know it. All of it an act, AN ACT! But you won’t trick me. You won’t get to make it worse for me!” He raved and threatened in your face for what seemed like forever, so close he took up your entire vision and you forgot where you were. Maybe that’s what it was like for him, right now, you faintly mused, still trying to understand. You hadn’t been like this when you first arrived… you or anyone else that you could recall.

He stopped talking suddenly, eyes tracked on something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see what had caught his attention and spotted, back through the doorway to the dining room, Norton tipped back in his dining chair and watching. Watching you. Watching him. A steak knife was in his hand and a dare was in his eyes.

Your attention was drawn back by the sound of the new guy stomping off again, hurried, tail still between his legs. When you looked back at Norton again, he tipped his chin to beckon you. When you stepped back through the door, Norton took his foot off of the table (its placement earned a side-eye from Fiona) to lower his chair back to four legs, and kicked out the empty seat next to him for you to reclaim. You sat down meekly, shaken by guilt and fear.

“I was just trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, biting again into his food. “And he’ll figure it out himself too eventually. In the meantime, let him be someone else’s problem.”

In a rare show of public affection, Norton leaned over and kissed you on the temple. “And stick closer to me for a while. You’ll be fine.”

Naib

Shit had hit the fan as soon as everyone was back and healed from the match. You and the new guy had both died—you to the chair and him to bloodloss—but a tie was a tie and worth at least a small celebration. But when he joined you, Tracy, and Margey for the tea party, he completely lost it.

He leapt across the sun room table for you, tipping it and all its contents to the ground, and the girls screamed with a genuine shock and terror you hadn’t heard in a while. Your back and knees smarted, all whacked by the scattering wooden furniture. Hot tea seeped into your shirt and scalded your belly. Sharp, broken porcelain lay dangerously scattered around your head. You couldn’t tell what the girls were shouting because you were too focused on your assailant. On keeping his hands off of your throat, out of your eyes, and getting his pinning body off of you. His nails clawed at your face, you knew that much, but if the matches taught you anything it was to not give up on a struggle.

Just as you started in on some dirty fighting Naib had taught you (pulling, trying to rip his ears off), the man himself came charging in like a bull and tackled the new guy off of you. You got kicked a bit in the process—but that was a fair price to pay for being able to scramble to the other wall and watch, secured by Tracy an Margey, as Naib completely wailed on the guy.

Naib didn’t talk about his background much, but you knew he knew how to fight. This was barely a fight—a one-sided beatdown morelike—but in your bitter soreness you felt it was well deserved. Naib knew how to make every swing count, and it was only well after the new guy was limp on the ground that William showed up and hauled Naib off of him. Emily followed next, running to check on the new guy since you were already being doted on by the girls.

When William finally let Naib go, he huffed and puffed and flexed off some of his remaining aggression before spitting out a spiteful, “He ain’t dead. I ain’t that nice.”

Then he turned and shooed the girls off, scooped you up, and marched right out of the room. He held you too tight for your sore back’s liking, but you couldn’t begrudge him the positioning to keep his nose in your hair while walking to somewhere more secluded and safe. His chest was still heaving against your side, still high with adrenaline and worry. His knuckles were split and bloody. The day had only just started.

“Sorry,” you sighed into his neck. Naib scoffed, mouth still pressed to your scalp.

“What for? He’s the cunt.” He kicked open the door to your bedroom, fully pulling back enough to give you a smirk. “Don’t ever be sorry for me stepping in. I’ll take care of everything.”

Ithaqua

The manor sometimes held garden parties to welcome new inhabitants. Usually, though, it had better timing.

The poor new guy had had the awful misfortune of being a valuable player. He was good at getting in the hunter’s face, and the others did all they could to get him off his first chair safely. Because of the great team effort, he’d wound up bleeding out while the Hunter—Ithaqua, your boyfriend—dealt with the others. You knew that wasn’t Ithaqua’s modus operandi; it hadn’t been on purpose. …but he wasn’t exactly sorry about it, either.

As a result, the party was tense in some areas. Specifically, the areas where the new guy went. He walked around with a deep frown and a nervous jitter. He’d been anxious when he first arrived too, but it was understandably worse now, in witness of the two factions being chummy with one another right after one had just killed him. The hunters avoided him from the get go, and the survivors gave up on conversation with him not long after.

And you, well. You didn’t get to see Ithaqua in peaceful settings often.

That’s how you wound up here, you supposed.

“So you’re a fucking traitor whore!” the new guy snapped in your face. He wasn’t quiet, either. “What’s the matter with you! Those monsters beat and torture us and you turn around and hang all over one? You’re probably no fucking better, some kind of psycho killer! You’re the one who should die! You’re the one who should bleed!”

Not being quiet would be his downfall, though. Picking a secluded corner of the hedge maze to catch you in didn’t matter. The wind carried.

He didn’t get much farther into his rant and threats before Ithaqua came whirling around the corner with his “business” mask on. His axe was back in the manor, but the Hunter’s claws and sheer strength could do harm enough to a survivor. Ithaqua snatched the new guy up by the nape before he had a clue what was happening, and dangled him overhead. The new guy screeched in a way that made you feel sick, but you knew from experience there was no talking Ithaqua down. Shamefully, you turned your eyes away.

“You sure like to run your mouth,” Ithaqua sneered at him, tilting his head in that wicked, owlish way of his. “You know, all the other rats take death in stride around here. You clearly need some more practice with it.” Ithaqua ruffled your hair with his free hand before stalking off around the corner with the squirming offender.

When he came back a few minutes later, he was wiping his bloody claws off on his cape.

“He knows not to trouble you anymore,” he cooed. When he took off his mask, Ithaqua’s blackened eyed are far more serene than they should have been for what he’d just done. “Come, the Geisha brought out those little caked you like.”

[melmac78]

Unfortunately I’m not sure - this was for that year’s International Space Hall of Fame …

… but I have a few of photos for you of that exhibit…

… plus a reminder how bad space food was back in the days and a mock up of a Mercury shuttle.

It’s TINY… I’m 1.73 meters (5’8” and I took the past with my back to the wall.

Oh and I added a G-force sled chute and a photo of Lil’ Joe and an observatory at the museum for you to enjoy.

If it helps John: when I was at the New Mexico Museum of Space History they had a special tribute exhibit to Gene Roddenberry, who was honored with an award for Star Trek.

They had a replica of the transporter room for photo ops, along with props.

Someone said “beam me up John …”

(I wish I was making this up… I heard so many bad space jokes I think they woke up HAM from his grave. Maybe even the Mercury 7...)

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[tracybirds]

Started this a wee while ago because @astranite and I were excitedly discussing astronomy textbooks and in particular BOB which is a real astronomy textbook for the undergraduate level, written by Carroll and Ostie as mentioned in the fic. We started joking about Lucille being an academic and writing the second BOB and then well... this happened :P

Many thanks both to @astranite and @gumnut-logic who have both read bits of this at some point - I hope you enjoy the finished fic!

---

"Imagine a world with no stars."

John reached down, brushing his fingers across the familiar preface, the uncomfortable weight of his mother's textbook feeling like home.

"Hi Mom," he whispered, his heart aching as he turned the pages.

Her orange highlighter was everywhere, notes in her clear, rounded hand scattered across every paragraph as month by month, year by year, she read yet another paper that strengthened the collective understanding of the universe. He knew that some of these notes made it into the second, third, and even fourth editions of BOBv2, but others lay dormant, waiting for a fifth edition that would never come.

Until now.

John took a steadying breath. He hadn’t dared to touch his mom’s personal copy of the astrophysics textbook that had redefined a generation in years. The Tracy text, with its dry wit and clear conceptual language, voiced with an undeniable love for the heavens above, similarly ignited a passion in everyone who read it. John was too young to know exactly when BOBv2 – the Big Orange Book – had become the standard text, but in doing so, Lucille Tracy had cemented her name as one of the great educationalists of modern astronomy. A companion to the original Carroll & Ostie, a text that delved with enthusiasm into every branch of space science, his mom had inspired a generation of astronomers.

His mom had inspired him.

And, as it turned out, there were people who wanted to see that legacy continued.

John scanned the email that had arrived without fanfare in his inbox that morning, though he already knew every word.

“Dear Mr. Tracy…” it began, and John knew they hadn’t meant him. Scott had forwarded the email himself, not reading beyond the subject line that mentioned only the title of the astronomy textbook he held in his hands.

This was how John learnt that his mom’s old publishing company were seeking permission to engage a new author to perform the necessary revisions for a new edition. John had never thought of Scott as being the executor of their parents’ estate, had never given much thought to any of the legalities of what their parents had created.

He glanced up as TB5 rounded the dark side of the Earth, the familiar patch of ocean his family called home slowly moving towards sunset.

His brother had gotten home less than an hour ago and it was for this reason, John told himself, that he hadn’t drawn attention to Scott’s error.

In truth, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

Well.

That wasn’t quite true.

John’s grip tightened around the book as he steadied himself once more.

This text had belonged to everyone, that’s how his mom had wanted it, and that’s what John would want too.

He connected to Scott’s line.

With each ring, his heart sank further and further.

“Hey John, wha–”

“Don’t do it,” blurted John.

Scott’s blue face scrunched up as he peered at him through the holo. “Don’t do what?” he asked.

“Mom’s book, let me instead,” said John, his words beginning to stumble across themselves in his hurry to make Scott understand. “I can do it, just don’t let someone else take it away from her.”

“Woah, woah,” said Scott, looking more alarmed with every second. “Nobody’s going to take Mom away from you, what are you talking about.”

“They want to revise BOB,” said John desperately.

Scott’s silence rang between them, a pause that filled the distance between them before John huffed and thrust the book into the holocam.

“BOB,” he said impatiently, “Mom’s textbook, the Big Orange Book the Second.”

“Can you.. can you start from the beginning, John,” said Scott weakly.

John’s fingers twitched, struggling to steady his shaky inhalations.

“Mom’s publishing company sent you an email. You sent it to me so I read it, but it was for you.”

With every word, John willed Scott to hear him, to understand what he was asking. It wasn’t the revision that was troubling him, John had worked alongside academics too long to question the need for an updated edition as new evidence emerged and new lines of reasoning developed into discoveries.

“It’s the only link to her that’s just mine,” he said quietly. “I have to share everything else, and maybe that’s selfish of me to ask, Scott, but I want this one. I don’t want someone to overwrite her words, her passion, her memory with a fake. Someone who’s just pretending they could ever know what she would have said.”

“I can say no,” suggested Scott, but every fibre of John’s being rebelled at the thought.

What was worse, he wondered, to remain true to her memory and thus condemn his mother’s greatest achievement to history? Or to give up his claim to her and allow her work to shine anew, albeit polished with a varnish he’d never known.

Obscurity or lies?

John knew which he’d choose.

It felt like burying her all over.

“John,” said Scott hesitantly. “Would you want to do it?”

John’s eyes widened. At once a thousand reasons to say no erupted, his mind running through emergency scenarios and the intensive workload that revising a beast like BOBv2 would take, not to mention remembering the half a dozen other projects he’d made promises to look at when he got a chance.

There was no chance he would ever be able to agree to what Scott was suggesting.

There was no chance he’d ever say no.

“How?” he asked breathlessly.

“We’d make it work for you, John, you know we would,” said Scott. “We’d do it for Mom, but we’d also do it for you.”

John’s smile was wobbly, and he rapidly blinked back the tears that welled in his eyes as warmth flooded and swelled in his chest.

“Then let’s do it,” he said hoarsely.

***

“John!” shouted Alan, racing up the stairs two at a time. “You’ve got a package, Grandma picked it up on the mainland, it’s here – it’s here!”

John leapt up from the sofa, his quiet conversation with Brains and Virgil forgotten in a heartbeat as he reached out with eager hands.

“Scott, Gordon!” bellowed Alan, running outside and leaning over the balcony’s edge. “Hurry up, John’s book is here.”

There was a mad scramble, water splashing all over, but John hardly heard it, his hands turning the brown paper over and over. He could feel the bio-bubble packing material, its gentle give beneath his fingers making him doubt the reality of what he was about to find.

Alan slammed into his side, legs bouncing with excitement. John could see the amused glances traded between Virgil and Gordon out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored them, suddenly terrified that he’d ruined his Mom’s book forever.

“We all know you gave it everything,” said Scott, dripping water all across the floor as he gripped John’s shoulder with firm encouragement. “She’d be proud too. Let’s see it.”

The spine was orange, the dusky colour of sunsets as the night gave way to twilight and the field of astronomy arose. Tracy & Tracy stood out, stark white and magical. Each leaf was glossy and vibrant, full of excitement and wonder.

He glanced down at Alan, whose eyes were wide in awe, and smiled, opening the book to the dedication page.

To Jeff, who travelled my stars and inspired my heart. – L.T. 1st edition To Scott, John, and Virgil, who helped me to dream. – L.T. 2nd edition To Gordon, who gave me new adventures. – L.T. 3rd edition To Alan, for all the skies we’ve seen together  – J.T. 5th edition

John wrapped an arm around Alan, who had gone still as he read.

“It was time you were added to the Tracy text,” he said quietly.

Alan only hugged him back.

“It looks incredible, John,” said Virgil. “It’s all paid off.”

One by one, everyone gave their congratulations and wandered off, the novelty soon wearing thin. Even Alan slipped away, his video games beginning to call, but not before making John promise to get him his own copy.

Eventually, only Scott remained and he fell down on the sofa next to John, watching him quietly as he flipped through the pages one by one.

Soon enough John paused, running his fingers over the familiar foreword, every letter of Lucille’s passion immortalised once again. His foreword came second in deference to the original and, sandwiched between his mother’s words and the contents page, John had allowed himself more sentiment than he usually considered wise in a public sphere, comfortable in the knowledge that only the few who were truly inspired by what he and his mom had made would ever read them.

“She would be proud,” he said with certainty. “Of this, of what we’ve done without her.”

“She would,” Scott agreed. “They both would.”

John nodded, and closed the text, laying it carefully on the coffee table.

His green eyes shimmered earnestly, a mirror of their mother.

“Thank you, Scott,” he said. “For giving me this.”

“It’s yours, John,” said Scott. “Always.”

[pr4ktical]

Please

Notes - After what happened with Cole and Greta, Brahms was all alone. You were at a bar with your friends while playing truth or dare. You get dared to go to the Heelshire home, alone. You stay there for a while, meeting Malcolm after a day there. You meet a porcelain doll when Malcolm leaves, sitting next to it is a clipboard with a paper on it. Little did you know, that would get you a little date later on...

“No one will escape me like she did.” Brahms had thought to himself as he stitched up the porcelain doll from the awful beating it had been through after Cole smashing it. “ No one will ever slip from my grasp like that again.” Brahms said to himself again, pushing and pulling the string on the doll with much more rigor than before. 

Due to the events of Greta escaping and his parents drowning themselves on their holiday, Brahms was all alone now. He didn’t know what to feel towards Greta. He became very attached to her, she was the first one to actually care for him. He shook it off and finished the porcelain doll. 

At night, he couldn’t sleep. He kept rethinking the previous night, how he could’ve stopped Greta. He regretted everything else besides killing Cole and drugging Malcolm. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, previously as Greta was escaping… actually you know what let's just go back to that night.

“Get back here.” Brahms growled, slowly moving towards Greta. “Don’t leave me.” He started crawling closer to her as she finally got the hatch open. As she started to flee, behind her she heard pounding. He was getting closer.. “You get back here!” Brahms had screamed at her as she fled out into the woods. As she was running she heard his voice behind her again, “If you leave I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him just like the others!” As she fled, Brahms crawled back into the room where Malcolm was. He pulled out something from his jean pocket, two pills. Malcolm was in and out of consciousness, he could see Brahms holding something in his hand. The next moment Brahms’ hand was close to his mouth, shoving the pills in his mouth and forcing him to swallow them. These pills were no ordinary pills, it had the possibility of making someone forget about the event that happened prior to taking it. Even though Brahms had been stuck in the walls since he was a kid, he learned what an average person learned on the daily. He knew about a lot of things, he was far from stupid.

Malcolm showed up many times still, bringing groceries to the house even though he could never find Greta. He thought that was odd, but shrugged it off and left the groceries on the front step. Every time he brought them, the previous order always disappeared so he thought that Greta was avoiding him for some reason. 

It was a friday night, you and some friends had gone out onto the town. You weren’t drunk, though some of the others were a bit. You ended up in a bar, and somehow got roped into truth or dare. You and your friends had rules, you always had to tell the truth and you always had to do the dares. It was your friend, Tracy’s turn. She looked around at her options at the table and landed on you. At first she whispered to a couple friends around her, then turned back to you while smiling, wickedly. “Truth or dare?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of you. You obviously knew that she had something in store for you either way, but you didn’t wanna seem like a pussy so you went for it. “Dare.” you stared back at her, mocking her as you crossed your arms just like she did. She whispered to the friends around her again, then turned back to you again, “You have to move out of the apartment.” She smiled at you. ‘ God dammit.’ you had thought to yourself. You knew you hated her, you knew that she was obviously a fake friend but you still stuck with her. “What kind of dare is that Tracy?” You stood up and slammed your hands on the table. “Well, I mean you haven’t really been hitting the payment mark lately sooo…” Her boyfriend, Tony had added in. You turned to Tony, “Shut up, I’m not talking to you Tony.” You turned back to Tracy, “Where am I supposed to live?” You sat back down, crossing your arms. “Well, you could always go back to America!” She laughed, and soon everyone else was laughing. You couldn’t go back to America, You couldn’t go back. You had gotten a once in a lifetime opportunity here! “I mean.. You could always try to live in that abandoned mansion up the road..It’s free.” Tony said, interrupting your thoughts. You always had a bad feeling about that house, you had heard rumors about it being haunted, or how some nanny had escaped from an insane man who lived in the walls or something. You never really believed the rumor, you were desperate so you agreed. “Whatever.. But I need a ride there.”

You had arrived at the mansion with Tony, Tracy, and 4 other friends. You got out of the car, looking up to the top of the mansion, then back down. You turned around, thinking about your stuff back at the apartment. “Wait I need my-” you got cut off by the sound of the car speeding off and laughter. You rolled your eyes, ‘Fuck.. what am I gonna do now?? I’m gonna starve!’ you thought to yourself. You were only staying in Britain for the time being, you were here for a job position that you couldn’t have gotten back in the states.. You snapped yourself out of your own thoughts and headed for the door. You twisted the knob, and with no luck, it was locked. Of course it was locked, how stupid were you? You looked around the mansion, seeing that one of the windows was slightly open. You went over and climbed in.

Brahms had heard a big thud downstairs. After what happened a week prior and his big rule, ‘no guests allowed’ he was very curious, yet furious that someone dare come into his home uninvited. He quickly, yet quietly headed from his room to downstairs where you were. “Ugh, fuck that hurt.” You said, standing up from your fall and brushing yourself off. Brahms saw you and basically fell in love. He looked you up and down, you were wearing a white, cropped long sleeve shirt with a leather jacket on top of it, with tight, low rise flared jeans on. He loved the way that your jeans and shirt had hugged your figure perfectly.

You looked around, walking forward deeper into the house. “Fuck, this place is so eerie, yet… yet very pretty.” You walked around, exploring the whole place. You stumbled upon the kitchen, you looked around. ‘...is… is this fresh food…?’ You thought to yourself, rummaging around. You explored the house more, going upstairs and finding three different bedrooms. One seemed to be an older couples, as the sheets and clothes seemed like what an older couple would have. The second one just looked to be a guest bedroom, but the third one… ugh the third one gave you the creeps. It seemed to be a young child’s bedroom, you thought you saw a doll, but you shrugged it off. Once you were satisfied with your exploring, you felt yourself getting more drowsy. You headed to the guest bedroom and fell asleep.

You woke up to the beautiful sunshine shining down on you. Little did you know, someone else was watching you wake up. You stretched and flipped the sheets off your body. You rolled your eyes, forgetting where you were for a minute. You passed the child's room, seeing the door was cracked. You got freaked out, big time. You could’ve sworn you had closed it, but shrugged it off as it had been a long night. You walked downstairs and looked at the food in the kitchen, finding that all of this is fairly new. ‘Does someone actually live here? Oh fuck, what if they find out I’m here.. What do I do-’ Before you could go one with your rapid thoughts, you heard a knock at the door. You wanted to pass out at that moment. You made your way to the window, peeking out from the shades and seeing a fairly handsome man at the door holding… groceries? As he seemed to be walking away, you quickly walked to the door and opened it. He thought he heard something, glancing back to see you, then turning all the way back around. You got quickly frightened by this and started backing away and closing the door. “O-Wait!” The man had said to you, walking towards you. “Who- I mean, ahem.. Hi, names Malcolm, uh nice to meet you.” He had said, sticking his hand out for you to shake it. “H-Hi?” You said, slowly shaking his hand. “I don’t want this to come off in a weird way but uh, w-who are you?” He lowered his hand down, awkwardly smiling. “Oh- um.. I’m…y/n.. Does uh- do you live here or something, I’m sorry I-” You started to ramble, “No! I don’t live here, but what are you doing here?” He had asked you. You opened the door more, gesturing to him to come inside. He had grabbed the groceries and walked in. You tell Malcolm how you got into this situation. "Oh, I'm sorry those people sound like dicks. Well, I'm here because there was a family here named the Heelshires-" He had gone on about Brahms, the Heelshires, and Greta. You had been a little shocked, going back to that rumor about the nanny running away from an insane man but you didn’t know what to believe. 

You and Malcolm had a lovely conversation for a while, but Brahms had been watching, and getting jealous. He saw the way you laughed and blushed around Malcolm, you had only met him for this long. How could you have fallen in love already? Two times with two different people in his home. He got angry at himself for not killing him on the spot when Greta escaped. He went back to his room and tried to calm himself down.

“Do you have to go?” You whined out, blushing as you watched Malcolm leave. “Sorry dear, I have to get back to the shop” He stopped and stretched, “Gotta get more orders in.” He smiled and winked at you. You saw him get back into his car, you waved to him as you closed the door. You felt a crush coming on, you cursed yourself, you’ve only known him for a few hours! You couldn't have. You shook it off, heading back upstairs. You stopped in your tracks before you could get to your room. The third room's door was wide open now. You knew for sure you didn’t touch it earlier, and Malcolm was downstairs the whole time. You felt your skin crawl, but you being the curious cat you are, you slowly walked towards the door. You peeked in and saw a porcelain doll sitting there and facing the door with something next to it. You wanted to run as far and fast as you could at that moment, but ended up walking into the room. The doll was quite beautiful, you ran your finger along the cheek. You looked next to it, it was a list. Of what? Rules.

Brahms had specific rules that he needed. You felt some sort of obligation to do these rules, or something would happen. You checked the time on your watch, 5:30 pm. You grabbed the doll and headed down to the kitchen, putting it on the counter and making food for the both of you. The whole situation felt off to you. You sat and ate the sandwich you made. Now it was time for bedtime. You grabbed the doll and headed upstairs, you dressed it in its pj’s and tucked it in. You forgot about one specific rule, “10. Kiss Goodnight.” and boy did Brahms make you remember it. 

Brahms was waiting and watching for the pretty girl to come back and kiss the doll. That was always his favorite time during bedtime, so when you didn’t he felt very hurt but furious that you didn’t follow the rules. He watched as you went to bed, he slammed his hands on the walls and stomped around. He removed the barrier from his closet so that he could get the doll. He grabbed it and placed it right next to your door. He knocked as loud as he could, “Y/N…” he said in his childlike voice.

You woke up in a cold sweat, hearing a child's voice from beyond the door. ‘What the fuck, what the fuck!’ you thought to yourself, clutching your chest. “Y/N, please come out.” You heard, you shook your head and pulled the blanket up to your chest. You whispered to yourself, “Just a dream, just a dream…” You closed your eyes and calmed down. 

Brahms became more irritated that you didn’t come out. He stomped his foot, grabbed the doll and angrily put it in the bed again. He went to his room again, not closing the barrier all the way. 

You got up, and used the phone in the room. You called Malcolm, “pick up, pick up, pick up..” You heard a click on the other side, “Hello?” Malcolm said. “Oh my god, thank fuck.. Is there any chance that Brahms could be alive?” You asked, still staring at the door. “What? Have you-” You interrupted him, “I know, I know it’s stupid but really, but what about Greta? Why does the doll move and talk?” You told him, obviously very paranoid. “Well.. come to think of it there has been many speculations of him still being alive. I happen to think that as well. When Greta escaped, something or perhaps.. Someone was taking the groceries in.” He said, you started to freak out. “Thanks Malcolm, gotta go bye!” You hung up, walking towards your door. You opened it and peeked down, nothing was there. You walked to the dolls room, you felt some sort of way about this situation but you couldn’t quite place it. You being a sick fuck, kinda found this whole thing hot. You wanted to test the limits, if there really was a person living here there was only one way to find out.

You tucked in Brahms again and gave him a kiss. You closed the door and prepared yourself for this. You thought about Greta, her escaping and how he went insane over this. You pretended to grab your things and opened the door. To your luck, you were met with large footsteps behind you.

You saw a long arm reach around you, keeping the door shut. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. This is who everyone is scared of, you are facing him right now. You turn around and are met with a porcelain mask, matching the doll's face. You looked at him, noticing every single feature about him. How his dark, curly brown hair had draped over the mask, how the tanktop he was wearing showed his chest, and how his body was very tense. For living in the walls for this long, he seemed like he showered and he had maintained his hair. “Don’t leave me y/n.. Please, I'll be a good boy.” You heard him whine, he didn’t have a childlike voice anymore. It was deep, piercing your core. You had built the courage to say, “Show me.” He was fairly surprised at your gestures, but he gladly did. He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. He walked up the stairs to the guest room and threw you on the bed. He was so excited, ever since the very moment you stumbled in his home, he knew he didn’t just want you, he needed you. 

You took your jacket off and threw it to the ground. Brahms took off his cardigan and shirt then grabbed your face, leaning in for a kiss as he towered over you. You put a finger up to the lips on the mask. He opened his eyes, whining at you. “Brahms, I can’t kiss you with a mask on..” You said, looking at the lips then back into his eyes. He nodded, lifting the mask ever so slightly so that his lips were out. You could see the scars from his jawline, up but shook it off and grabbed his face and kissed him harshly. You could tell he has been waiting for this. The kiss quickly became heated, his hands wrapped around the back of your head as he pushed you deeper into the kiss. You could feel the raging erection from his jeans, threatening to bust open. He was the one to pull away, both of you gasping for air. He pulled down the mask again, covering his lips. You could tell that he was going feral, and you were too. 

“Touch me Brahms, please .” You whimpered into his ear, leaning back onto the bed and spreading your legs for him. He smiled and ripped off your jeans and your panties at the same time. You felt your hips buck, feeling the cold air blow on your naked cunt. Brahms noticed this, and took notes. He crouched down and blew onto your pussy, seeing you buck up and moan louder for him. He reached a hand to you, rubbing your clit in circles. “Mm! Please Brahms..” You cried out, gripping onto the sheets. "Cover your face for me, baby." He demanded softly, and you did. Covering your eyes with your forearm, he took off his mask fully, pressing his tongue flatly to your clit. He slowly started moving his tongue up and down, then quickly shoving a slender finger in your pussy. You screamed out, feeling yourself get light headed. He hooked his arms under your legs to hold you in place. He flicked his tongue up and down faster now, moving his side to side as fast as he could. You said his name over and over again like you were brainwashed. He shoved two fingers into your warmth, pumping them up and down as he ate you out like a starving man. You moved your hips along with him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. “Brahms, s-such a g-good boy..” You choked out, reaching down to his head and pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel your legs start to shake violently. “Mghm B-Brahms! I- I’m cumming!” He pulled off, fixing his mask. He scooped up your cum with two fingers and sat you up. “Open.” He put his fingers to your lips. You opened your mouth, looking up at him and sucking your mess off his fingers.

You took off your shirt and bra, and he took off his jeans and boxers, Both of you completely naked now. You could see his raging hard on much better now. You stood up and pointed for him to lay on the bed. He listened, laying down vertically. You climbed on top of him, face stopping at his cock. You smiled, then licked from base, to tip. His moans were intoxicating, you could tell he was very touch deprived. He melted into your touch as you stroked his cock. “Such a good boy, Brahmsy.” You said, feeling his hips buck into your hand. This man could kill someone, and yet he fell into your hands like putty. You smiled, putting his tip in your mouth. You swirled and sucked on it, looking up at him. You could see his neck getting bright red, if only you could see what he looked like under the damn mask.. He reached a hand to your hair, guiding along with your now bobbing head. After a while you pulled off and climbed on top of him. You smiled and lined up his cock with your cunt. He looked up at you with lust covered eyes, begging for it. You finally sank down and bottomed out, moaning into his ear. He propped himself up as he was still in you. You finally started moving, getting faster. He put his hands on your hips, guiding you. 

“Y/N… you feel so, so good..” He moaned, looking from your face, to his and your skin slapping against each other. Riding him up and down, you loved the way he looked up at you. When you finally got weak, he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to pound into you. “Please Brahms!” You moaned into his ear, digging your fingernails into his back. He loved the way you made your marks on him. He latched onto your neck and started sucking, going farther down to your nips. You never really got used to his size, and he knew that. That made him go crazy. He loved the way your tight cunt stretched over his big cock. He pulled out, knowing you both were close. 

He took the upper hand, moving you under him, and lifting your legs up. He smiled, he loved seeing your face contort as he pleasured you. He slammed his hips into you, not letting you get used to his size again. “Am I being a good boy for you, y/n?” He whined. Before you could answer, he pounded into you much faster. “Y-yes baby… you're such a good boy for me!” You moaned out, grasping onto his shoulders as you looked up to him, teary eyed but smiling. He made you hold your legs open still, as he reached a hand down to your clit and the other hand playing with your nipples. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your legs started to shake, warning you. You could tell he was close too. He put his forehead on yours, then you looked down with furrowed brows and mouth agape, then back up. “Please, please, please! Mmm!” You moaned out, pulling his hair. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, please Brahms, please!” You looked up at him. He quickened his hip pace, as well as he rubbed your clit quicker. “Mmm! I’m cumming!” You screamed out, as your back arched and your eyes rolled back into your head. Your whole body started to come down with a shaking orgasm. As Brahms fucked you through your orgasm, the sight of your body shaking made him get even closer. Brahms whined as he felt your tight pussy tighten around him even more, milking him for what he was worth. He came all over in your pussy, feeling his own legs shake against him. You both fell limp in the bed, smiling at eachother.

Brahms finally pulled out, you whimpered at the feeling of not being full anymore. You smiled at him as he laid next to you. You kissed him on the forehead, “So.. you’ll stay?” He asked, looking down. “I wasn’t gonna leave in the first place. But you have to promise to not hide anymore. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry baby.” You smile, cupping the mask in your hand. Brahms smiled, he finally had someone.

[seecarrun]

“Okay, now slowly—slowly, whisk in the cocoa powder. Slowly, Ash.”

“I am doing it slowly.”

“Are you? That’s what slow looks like to you?”

Misty smirked behind her cup of tea as she took a victorious sip, the dulcet sounds of Ash, Tracy, and Brock clattering around the kitchen filling her heart with vindictive satisfaction.

“Not so easy, is it, Ash?” she called out to him mockingly from the living room. He simply huffed loudly in return.

It had been a tradition of hers, ever since she went back to the gym, to send Valentines chocolates to her boys, wherever in the world they happened to be.

While typically, she would simply melt down a few store bought chocolate bars and set them into the little pokemon molds she had gotten herself one winter, this year, since she knew she would actually be in Pallet Town and would be seeing them all in person for once, she decided to mix together all the ingredients and make the chocolate herself.

Brock and Tracy, the sweethearts, did her the kindness of at least pretending to her face that the chocolates were edible.

“Wow, Misty,” Brock began, wincing through the first bite. “These sure are…something.”

“Yeah,” Tracy agreed, forcing a pained smile. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Really?” Ash asked, reaching into his own prettily decorated bag and pulling out a tiny luvdisc. (Yes, she had given Ash a luvdisc chocolate or two. It was a coincidence, shut up.) He took a bite and made a face. “Ew, what are you guys talking about? This is awful!”

Their resulting argument had been tame by Ash and Misty standards, and had ultimately culminated in Misty daring Ash to do better, since he was apparently such an expert.

Which brought them here.

“Okay, just like we practiced,” Misty heard Tracy saying, followed by a loud groan from Ash.

“Do I have to? Isn’t she mad enough at me already?”

Brock huffed. “Would you just trust us?”

Finally, the boys walked into the living room, looking haggard and covered in a fine layer of chocolate and powered sugar, Tracy and Brock on either side of Ash, probably to keep him from bolting.

After a long moment of just standing there, Brock rolled his eyes and gently pushed Ash in her direction. He glared at him, but quickly turned his attention back to her, his eyes wide and his face just a touch pink.

“I’m sorry I’m such a, uh,” he screwed his face up a little in annoyed concentration, “an uncultured troglodyte?” he said slowly, raising his eyebrow at Brock who nodded sagely.

Ash shot her a quick baffled look that made her bite her lip to keep from giggling, but turned his expression into something legitimately apologetic, and she felt her heart skip a traitorously tiny beat.

“I didn’t realize how hard it was to make chocolate, and I hope you’ll forgive me for being…whatever it was Brock said I was being, and accept these as an apology.” He handed her an endearingly messily wrapped bag full of ice-cube shaped chocolates, obviously not being able to find anything better in the Ketchum’s kitchen to help mold them. “You don’t have to eat them,” he stage whispered, “I tried one and it was disgusting.”

She did finally laugh at that, taking the gift and holding it protectively at her chest. “Thank you, Ash. Apology accepted.”

“Uh-uh-uh, Ash. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Brock asked knowingly.

Ash glared back at him and opened his mouth to protest, but after even Pikachu shook his head in pointed disappointment, he sighed, turning back to Misty, the redness in his cheeks evident even behind the cocoa powder, and before she could figure out what was happening, leaned over and quickly pressed his lips to her cheek in a quick kiss.

Misty knew she must have looked ridiculous, she could feel how red her face must have been glowing, and Brock and Tracy were both grinning like idiots at whatever expression she was making. But Ash looked pretty ridiculous himself, his own face bright red and his eyes wide; and that was enough to make her feel at least a little less embarrassed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he mumbled, looking everywhere but at her, and then promptly speed-walked out of the room and up the stairs, followed by Pikachu, and his cap pulled over his eyes.

Brock and Tracy were both grinning at her when she looked back at them, so she shot them a look and crossed her arms, a smirk playing across her lips. “I suppose I have you two to thank for that?” she asked. Brock grinned.

“Never say we never did anything for you,” he sang, wagging his finger playfully.

“It’s the least we could do,” Tracy added sympathetically, “those chocolates really are awful.”

Misty snorted and popped a chocolate into her mouth, wincing at the bitter flavor and dry texture.

Somehow, it still tasted like victory.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @soniabigcheese

From @soniabigcheese to @thedryswan

Prompts

Regency Era AU

Scott/Havoc fluffy

Free choice

I think I've covered them all

Hope my recipient enjoys this

She felt a hand grip hers and her eyes widened as she felt him tugging her from behind the thick curtain.

"Why … Mister Tracy," she exclaimed, "what ARE you doing?"

He placed his finger up to his lips and winked.

"Getting you out of here."

She tried to feign mock surprise but knew that he saw through that facade, so she shrugged quite unladylike, grabbed the skirt of her dress and followed him.

As they approached the front door, attendants were nowhere to be seen as they grabbed some outerwear, regardless of whom it belonged to and headed to a waiting pony and trap.

The heavy coat was far too short in the arms for Scott but he didn't care, the thoughts of escaping that stuffy party, where everybody was playing matchmaker and gossips galore. It was becoming too much for him and he needed some fresh air. It was then that he spotted a slippered foot peeking out from underneath the hem of the velvet curtain. He recognised it as one Hannah DeVries, a rather stand offish woman who was very blunt with practically everyone. But he recognised that it was just a front. She was bored with all the rules of etiquette, like himself and wanted a taste of freedom.

So, now was his chance.

He grinned as she hastily jammed the bonnet onto her head and roughly tied a bow to keep it in place. He tried to help her with her cloak but she shot him a 'don't you DARE' look, so he waited.

"So … " she said finally, "where are we going?"

"Just for a drive out. Is that so bad?"

"You DO realise that this will cause such a scandal, an unchaperoned woman, out with the most eligible bachelor in the district?"

"I don't care."

THAT deserved an eyeroll and a snort.

"MISTER Tracy…"

"Scott …. my father is Mister Tracy."

He told the driver to just take a trip out into the vast acreage and grounds of the ancestral home of the Creighton Wards. Parker nodded, clicked his tongue and gave the reins a flick, and the filly moved forward. It was obvious that he'd done this many times before.

The skies were a gunmetal grey, thick and heavy with snow, it had been like that for much of the day. And now, flurries began falling, sprinkling the rebellious young couple with flakes of snow.

She shuddered with the cold, he wrapped the overly huge cape around her and covered both of their knees with a blanket.

"Feeling better?"

"Not really, I'm bloody freezing."

"Not right now … but … you know…"

"Oh … that … oh most definitely yes. Fancy, trying to marry me off to some brandy swilling oaf like that."

Ah, that explains why she was hiding behind the curtain. She sat back in the padded seat, folded her arms and pouted

"The very nerve of it."

The snow started falling thickly now, so the driver made a small circle and returned to the manor.

They expected faces pressed against windows and scowls of disapproval, but none came.

They'd managed to have a very short escapade and adventure without anybody noticing

How thrilling

Scott took her hand and kissed it lightly.

There was an audible gasp

Oh well, guess not

The End

[loopstagirl]

Shot in the Dark, Ch 13

Ruth Tracy sat comfortably back in her armchair, a nice cup of tea next to her as she waited for her old friend to come back through from the kitchen. Despite adoring every moment she spent on the island, the old woman had to admit she enjoyed being back in Kansas. She wouldn't swap her family for the world, but living on an island with her son and five grandsons was enough to make any woman want to leave for the seclusion of an old farm now and again. How the boys would manage without her, she had no idea, but when Jeff had all but pleaded with her to take a vacation, well, she couldn't refuse. Not to mention that the look he had given her was the same one that always had her crumbling, and she knew that he knew it.

"Oh Ruth, do come and see this."

Hearing the excited note in her friend's voice, Grandma pulled herself to her feet, pausing for long enough to set her cup down. She thought that she seemed to spend most of her time running around after someone – normally her own son – but there had been a note in the other woman's voice that had caught her attention.

"What is it, Evelyn dear?"

"Do come and see. It's those fine International Rescue boys on the television."

Immediately feeling her pulse begin to quicken, Grandma hurried her way into the kitchen, attempting to keep her face neutral as Evelyn motioned for her to pull up a seat. Lowering herself almost shakily into said seat, Grandma steeled herself before looking up. She knew the boys hated being filmed out on a rescue, but it wasn't often that the reporters managed to get away without the boys noticing.

"...and as you can see, one member seems to be on the floor, whilst the others are trying to make the assailant back away. No, wait..." As the reporter turned away to mutter something to her cameraman, her hurried tones making him zoom in on the image he was capturing, Grandma felt her heart catch in her throat. Even from the distance they were at, she could make out her boys. There could be no doubt that it was Gordon on the floor - his sash colour was clearly visible to his grandmother. How many times had she had to wash that damn thing? As she watched, whoever had dared to hurt her boys suddenly turned, and the old woman could not cover up her cry of alarm as Virgil went flying through the air, landing with a thud next to his brother. Luckily, Evelyn looked just as horrified as she did.

"Who would want to hurt those nice young men, after all the good they do? They remind me of your boys, Ruth, dear. The elder two always came to help my Kevin out on the farm in the summer... Ruth? Is everything alright, dear?"

Grandma, however, was incapable of answering. The man who had dared attack her grandsons had run for it, the emergency services in hot pursuit. The camera remained firmly on the Tracys, though. Despite being grateful that their faces weren't being broadcast everywhere, Grandma couldn't help but curse under her breath in a way she knew she had picked up from the boys as she realised she had no way of making sure the boys were okay. Virgil had sat back up, and as she watched, she caught sight of Alan throwing himself forward. To the rest of the world, Grandma knew it wouldn't be clear what was happening, but knowing those boys the way she did, she knew without a doubt that the youngest Tracy would be reassuring himself with a hug. He had always been the same, ever since he was a young child.

"Ruth?" Evelyn prompted, a frown lining her face as she took in her friend's look of horror. She knew it was horrific to think that anyone would dare hurt the members of International Rescue, but her old neighbour looked nothing short of scared. Luckily, her questioning timed exactly with Virgil helping Gordon to his feet, and as the camera turned away Grandma let out a sharp breath, facing her friend once more.

"Sorry, dear. If you'll excuse me for a moment...?" As Evelyn nodded, confusion spiralling in her eyes, Grandma made her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Entering the room where she was staying, she made sure to shut the door firmly behind her before turning her attention to the phone sitting by her bedside. Without hesitating, she snatched up the receiver before dialling a well-known number.

"Kyrano? Yes, it's Ruth, dear. I need you to get my son for me." Finding she was almost clucking her tongue in impatience as the loyal manservant jumped to do her bidding, Grandma glanced down at the hand resting in her lap, frowning in annoyance when she noticed that it was trembling slightly. She had seen the boys walk away, knew that they were going to be alright. But it didn't stop the anxiety from rushing through her as the image of Virgil flying through the air replayed itself over and over again in her mind's eye. Eventually though, a soft voice on the other end signalled Jeff's arrival even before he had turned his attention to the receiver.

"Jefferson? It's your mother."

Read the rest on Ao3 ->

[skeefee-sky]

so!! here's the rewrite of that one story i was talking about c: the, 'genderbent but not genderbent' story... or... i still don't actually know what to call it x'D shall we go with Sister Tracy?? i dunno >w<

anyway! i definitely do have more ideas for this AU now, so, expect more from me c: cause after doing this rewrite, my brain got flooded with ideas xD so, yeah haha. keep your eyes peeled xD 👀

💚💛 TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB 💛💚

The villa was oddly quiet for an afternoon. Eldest and youngest brothers were still away on their own solo rescues, middle brother monitoring from space, other members of the family off in their own corners of the buildings. The slowly, setting sun threw colours across the peaceful lounge, of brilliant pinks, yellows and oranges. The second-eldest Tracy drank in this time of day, in the rare moment she wasn’t caught up in a rescue, pulling out her sketchbook to document the colours.

Today was different.

Vivienne sat on the high edge of the pool, her sketchbook resting untouched on her knees as she stared up at the sky. She was distracted, her mind solely on the rescue that had happened earlier that morning. She’d never felt so disappointed in herself before, but something today… Something had really stuck with her, and she hadn’t been able to shake it all day. They’d rescued the construction crew; she should have been satisfied. But something her younger brother had said…

“Don’t you dare.”

Tranquillity interrupted, and she’d spoken the words the moment she sensed movement behind her. Gordon froze in his slightly hunched over position, hands raised in the air. The blonde made a teasing grumble as he dropped and plonked beside her.

“You’re getting good. I was only fifteen steps away this time!”

“Yes. Because I’d really be that unsuspecting when you’re about to push me into the pool…” Vivienne smirked, adjusting her position.

“It was the perfect opportunity!” Gordon chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair before he lent back on both hands. “I’m not here to push ya though, Vin; promise. Just wanted to, check in… you know.”

Being one of the only girls in a family of all boys had its perks, sometimes - she did really appreciate when her brothers checked in, even if at times it did get bothersome. It often reminded her of the true bond she had with them. Shifting again, Vivienne pulled her knees up to her chest, nursing her sketchbook.

“Yeah… Guess I, was a little funny after the mission today…” she admitted. Gordon slightly raised an eyebrow; ‘a little’?

“It totally was because of what I said, huh…?”

Vivienne swallowed. Technically, she hadn’t been the only one worried - Scott and John had voiced their concerns too. But of course Gordon's focus would be her word.

“I thought, you were actually going to go through with it…” the second-eldest murmured, muffling her words onto her knees as she closed brown eyes. “I’d, be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what could have happened.”

It had been a tight spot, and Gordon had gotten stuck. But his big sister had been there to pull him and the construction crew out, and the aquanaut had only come away with a few scrapes down his right arm. Vivienne knew it could have been much worse…

“You know me, Vinnie… Always making you and Scotty worry,” the blonde laughed softly, playing with the threading on one of his bangles. “No matter how old we are…”

Brown eyes quietly darted over to watch him, taking in the features of her little brother. No matter how old they were…

She still remembered the days a much younger brother would come to her, asking for stories about the sea and mermaids, or trying to join in on her piano practicing. She didn’t like to remember the days that included tears, concerned voices, or much needed hugs where little hands would curl into her clothing and not let go for a while… A weight suddenly against her shoulder returned her to the moment, and she glanced at her younger brother as he comfortably rested his head against her.

“I didn’t mean to, Vin…”

“I know, squid…” Vivienne hummed, uncurling a little so she could place the sketchbook beside her and then tucked an arm around him. “… I’m your sister. I’m made to worry.”

Gordon's weight shifted as he let out a sigh and leant into her. She was, and, that meant Scott didn’t have to worry as much… They shared their worry levels. That probably came with being the eldest. Of any of them, the aquanaut always considered himself the closest to their sister, and secretly enjoyed her comfort more than their eldest brother's. Brown and amber eyes followed the sun as it finally disappeared beyond the horizon, and Gordon eventually lifted his head at the soft rumbling in the distance.

“Sorry you didn’t get to draw your sunset before Scott came home, heh…” he apologised.

“Plenty more opportunities,” Vivienne mused, giving him the gentlest nudge as she sat up and crossed her legs, tucking the sketchbook back into her lap. Thunderbird One’s engines grew louder. “… Thanks, Gords. I needed that.”

The aquanaut hopped up, beaming a grin at her as he held out a hand to help her to her feet. The amusement in his eyes faded a little before he spoke again.

“You always told me it’s okay to be worried in the moment, especially when things happen out of your control. You remember that too, big sis,” he pleaded; the two of them taking steps back toward the villa as their brother’s Thunderbird approached. Vivienne almost missed Gordon continue over the roar of the ship’s engines once they were safely inside.

“Promise I won’t be losing an arm anytime soon!”

She only laughed and rolled her eyes before looking away to watch the silver rocket descend under the pool before them. She needn’t worry, but she did it anyway. She was never going to be like her brothers in certain aspects, but if they needed a rock; someone to listen, someone to comfort, she was going to be there.

No matter how old they were.

[sideprince]

Harry Potter Fancasting - Worst Edition

Dreamcast this, ideal for the role that, yeah yeah. What about the worst possible Harry Potter fancast you can think of? I mean worst. "Who in their right mind????" worst. "I’m burning my books and moving to the moon" levels bad. Ready? No? Too bad.

The Golden Trio

Harry Potter:

Josh Gad. He's got a youthful charm and uhhhhh can pull off a pair of glasses. Plus, he's done children's movies before.

Hermione Granger:

Leslie Jones. She's smart, she takes no shit, she can pass for an 11 year old if you squint. This is Hollywood.

Ron Weasley:

Ed Sheeran. He can act. Probably. Only one way to find out.

Hogwarts Teachers:

Dumbledore:

Al Pacino. He's old, he's grey, he's uhhhh *checks notes* "quirky." Think about it. De Niro could play Grindelwald. You'd pay to see that. You wouldn't like it, but you'd still pay.

McGonagall:

Oh please, you'd love it (I refuse to admit she's no longer with us).

Alastor Moody:

Tracy Morgan. He's unpredictable, he's unhinged, he gives zero fucks. Sounds like Moody to me.

Severus Snape:

Dan Savage. Throw on a wig and some black contacts I guess. Or don't. This is casting, I don't work in wardrobe. (Am I throwing shade at Fabio Snape art? How dare you accuse me of such a thing.)

Marauders generation

James Potter:

So there's a resemblance to Josh Gad.

Lily Evans/Potter:

Lindsay Lohan. She has red hair ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Remus Lupin:

Bryan Cranston. Because Lupin has a dark side I guess. But give it another ten years so he ages even more.

Sirius Black:

Gene Simmons. He's badass, he's got long dark hair, he looks like he could ride a motorcycle. He and Ed Sheeran can take acting lessons together (which we could film and sell as a side project/spin-off TV show... hmmmmm).

Peter Pettigrew:

Manny Jacinto. Plot twist! You'd never see it coming. A man that pretty could do no wrong!

And finally:

Voldemort

Ben Stiller. He'd have no nose but would be all ears.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths)

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken/Remember the pact of our youth/Where you go, I’m going, so jump and I’m jumping/Since there is no me without you

How, the most dangerous thing is to love/How, you will heal and you'll rise above/Crowned by an overture bold and beyond/Ah, it's more courageous to overcome.

You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It's all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste your self on this roof

Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down/Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

"I'm sure you'll get other submissions for this one. I have no idea who this band even are outside of this song but it fucks me up like it does everyone else. It's the tragic love of it all. The desperation of trying to save your loved one from themselves. Or are the narrators of the song Achilles' own conscience representing his indecision on whether to kill himself or not? It can mean so many things and SO many parts of the lyrics are very poetic and powerful. (also again for me this makes me cry over a Specific Blorbo in this case Dimitri Blaiddyd but that doesnt matter)"

"The cellos in the background, the lyrics, telling the story of Achilles, the fact that it's fucking 7min long, it's beautiful, it breaks me to then pull me back together, it gave me hope in a moment where I wasn't in the best mental space, it's like getting undressed to your very soul only to be cover up with a weighted blanket afterwards and be told "it'll be alright." It's like that image with the guy that's like "this is cinema" but with a song, god I love this song so much"

"Ohhhg my god. It’s so. It’s a fucking heartbreaking song but it gives hope (^^see abovw lyrics. there may not be meaning so find one and seize it gets me the most). I can’t say anymore about it but yeah"

"Achilles is about to jump off the roof, his lover is trying to convince him not to. the vibe of this song itself is so unique, the violin and the segments of French reading really grip at your soul. Towards the end there are two voices seemingly arguing. One voice is Achilles’s inner monologue and the other is his lover trying to yell over it. This part is my favorite, especially if you’re envisioning your blorbo. Tbh in my darkest times I would fall asleep to the ten hour loop every night. It felt like laying on a rooftop and looking out at the stars and the street lights. I think maybe it kept me from doing things I would regret."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[hebuiltfive]

Trigger Warnings for very brief alluding to, and thus mentions of, child abuse/endangerment, and of swearing (all under the cut).

This is born from the discussion with @edutainer2022 the other day (hope you don't mind the tag!) that is still running circles in my mind.

Setting the scene: imagine for a moment that Scott is being questioned on the stand. By this point, the news and the media have been running wild with speculations, and there have been many vultures swooping in to try and rip the Tracy family, their company and/or International Rescue apart. Many lawsuits have been filed in succession, many rumours (some baseless, some probably true) are swirling.

The world is starting to doubt the legitimacy and integrity of iR and those who run it.

*puts this out there and runs for the hills*

.....

Prosecutor: Mr. Tracy, have you ever abused your youngest brother, Alan Tracy?

Scott: How fucking dare you?! Of course I haven't! He's my brother!

Prosecutor: Mr. Tracy, how old was Alan when you allowed him into your organisation?

Scott: ... Alan was never sent on a mission alone until he was fully trained and fully experienced—

Prosecutor: With respect, Mr. Tracy, that wasn't my question. I asked you how old he was.

Scott: When he first joined, he was fifteen. When he first started flying, he was sixteen.

Prosecutor: And his first solo mission was not long after that?

Scott: ... I'd say it was almost a year later.

Prosecutor: So you admit you had a minor working for you?

Scott: What? No! What we do at International Rescue isn't exactly work...

Prosecutor: Alright, let me rephrase it, then. You admit you allowed your younger brother, a minor, to participate in the dangerous day-to-day activities International Rescue undertake?

Scott: When you put it like that, it sounds bad, I get it, but that's not the full story! Alan—

Prosecutor: Was a minor, a child, who you allowed to be constantly put into danger!

Scott: It wasn't like that!

Prosecutor: I think you'll find that willful child endangerment constitutes abuse, Mr. Tracy.

....

In short, thank God the world trusts the Tracy family in these shows because they'd be so screwed if people ever did turn against them. I think The Imposters came closest to what could happen, but even then (as an episode that had to have the story be solved by the end) they didn't really delve into it all that much.

Disclaimer to say that the timings and ages for Alan are probably not accurate and are just placeholders. I began writing and it spiralled. Not even confident about posting this because it's so unfinished but I needed to get it out.

[msweebyness]

Young Justice: Blue13 Headcanons

Hey Howdy Ho, y’all! I wanted to shine a little spotlight on one of my fave YJ couples, Blue Beetle and Thirteen! Jaime and Traci are just adorable so I wanted to share some cute HC’s I have for them! Enjoy!

Don’t look me in the face and tell me these two aren’t ridiculously affectionate. Holding hands or arms around each other, kisses hello and goodbye always, snuggling whenever the opportunity is present (try and tell me Jaime is not a huge cuddler. Do it I dare you.), Traci sits in his lap, etc. Touch is def a love language.

The Bridal Carry isn’t just an “On Missions” thing, and you can fight me on this. At any given time, in or out of his armor, Jaime will just scoop Traci up and carry her places. Because he likes treating his gf like a princess.

I think we can all agree that Jaime is definitely far from happy with the whole “Part-Time Doctor Fate” deal, I mean who wants to lose the person they love for a week every month or so? With the similarities between possession by Nabu and his own time under the Reach’s control, it was definitely something he struggled to come to grips with. He ultimately accepts Traci’s choice, of course, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be there every time she puts the helmet on and when she takes it off.

We all know Jaime is a total sweetheart, so you know he would be the most thoughtful and considerate boyfriend in the world. Opens every door for Traci, gets her flowers just because, insists on paying for every date, and always walks her home. This is the kind of boyfriend who feels no shame in getting whatever his gf needs during that time of the month. Who will watch Disney movies with her over and over again because it makes her happy. And she knows she’s lucky to have him.

Traci is definitely the girlfriend who likes to make her partner turn red whenever she can, and you’d definitely be surprised by how dirty this girl's mind can get. (She’s definitely called him “Daddy” with no warning, just to see how he would react.) Just saying.

After they’d been together for a while, Jaime definitely opened up to Traci about everything with the Reach, being under their control and hurting the people he cared about, the paralyzing fear of losing himself that came before that…and the constant prickling in the back of his head of worry that they might return. Traci would be there for him through all the sleepless nights, comforting him for as long as he needs…and swearing she’ll maim any of those alien creeps if they ever try to come near him again.

I feel like they’re definitely the first Outsiders couple to get married, and everyone at their ceremony was crying happy tears. (You also can’t tell me that Jaime isn’t the man who cries about how much he loves his bride-to-be and how he can’t believe he’s marrying her when he’s drunk at his bachelor party. Someone who shall not be named but is in fact named Bart Allen recorded it and it definitely got played at the reception.)

No relationship is perfect, they all have their vices, and early on, I feel like Jaime would have struggled with jealousy and insecurity, especially when he thinks someone expressed interest in his girlfriend. (We can kind of see this in episode 3x16, with how he keeps his arm around Traci while she’s fangirling over Gar, and the somewhat snippy comment he makes towards him later.) Most of it would stem from his lingering self-resentment, and his feeling that this amazing, beautiful and joyful girl he fell in love with would eventually tire of him and want someone with less…baggage. Eventually, I think Traci would clue into this and they have a talk that helps alleviate these feelings, because strong couples communicate and are built on trust. (Traci, of course, is well aware of how handsome her boyfriend is, and is happy to make it known that he’s hers to anyone looking.)

This is definitely the couple that their idea of a perfect date is just spending an evening cuddled up on the couch and watching cheesy old movies. They don’t feel the need to do anything fancy, just enjoying being close and in each other’s company is enough for them. But that’s not to say they don’t like to surprise each other with something a bit more upscale every now and then.

I love the idea of them getting couples tattoos for one of their anniversaries. Traci gets a blue heart with the beetle chest emblem thing on the inside of her wrist, and Jaime gets a roman numeral thirteen just underneath his collar on the left side. Because they’re cute like that.

These two are always on each other’s minds, and will definitely find any excuse to talk about how wonderful their boyfriend/girlfriend is. They can always find a way to bring each other up in conversation and it annoys the heck out of their friends. Like, we get it, you have the best partner in the world, you can stop yapping about it now.

Jaime’s family absolutely loves Traci, no doubt. Bianca already calls the girl her daughter-in-law, much to her son’s embarrassment, and Alberto wholeheartedly goes along with this. Milagro adores Traci and thinks she’s just the coolest and prettiest person in the world, and thus often asks her why she likes her stupid brother, again, to Jaime’s annoyance. Dr. Thurston thinks Jaime is a good kid, if a little strange with the whole, talking to his back thing, and trusts him to take care of his daughter.

Jaime and Traci are definitely each other’s biggest supporters in everything. Whenever he doubts his capabilities or that people can ever trust him as a hero, she’s right there reminding him of all the good he’s done and the trust they all have in him. And he’s so genuinely happy for her when she makes strides in mastering her magic, and is the first to reassure her when she makes a misstep. They’re always in each other’s corner, no matter what.

Every couple has arguments, that’s just a fact. Jaime and Traci are no exception. But even their biggest ones don’t last more than a few days. Tell me these two could bear to stay mad at each other, I dare you. They’ll give each other some time to cool off before talking things out, because communication is key. They know they’re strong enough to handle bumps in the road.

One thing they have in common is they’re both part of a package deal. Leroy would be such a little shit to Jaime at first, always hissing at him and smacking him with his tail, but he’d warm up to him eventually, knowing how much he cares for Traci. Scarab…is Scarab, so you know it’s not gonna be a fan of “the Traci”, but eventually, I think it’d come to tolerate her because it’s clear she’s not going anywhere, and a slight respect due to her commitment to keeping it’s host safe and happy.

These two would be so protective of each other. They watch each other’s backs during fights, and you know they make a hell of a team. Whenever one is hurt or sick, the other won’t leave their side unless forced until they feel better. Traci will fight anyone who tries to imply Blue Beetle can’t be trusted because of the whole Reach thing, you know she would, and he won’t let anyone shit-talk her for her mistakes either. And you know Jaime still gets those spikes of territorial feelings whenever someone stares at his girlfriend for a little too long. (Traci might deny it, but she does too.)

Traci has stolen a fair amount of Jaime’s hoodies (seriously, how many does he own?), and it’s not unusual to see her wearing one when they’re all hanging out. She just loves how big and warm they are on her, and hey, seeing your girl wear your clothes is widely considered to be pretty hot, and our boy certainly thinks so.

A lot of couples have little things they call each other and they’re no exception. Jaime would call Traci “mi amor” or “mi princesa” because that’s how he sees her, the love of his life and his princess. Traci would definitely call him “her knight” whenever he uses the second one, because they’re sappy like that. She also uses “handsome” a lot which never fails to make him blush.

Physically, Traci’s favorite thing about Jaime would be his warm, soft brown eyes. The sheer amount of love in them when he looks at her makes her heart race. Whenever she’s annoyed with him, you can’t tell me one look from those puppy dog eyes doesn’t break her resolve completely. (And…the killer abs certainly don’t hurt either!) On Jaime’s end, nothing makes his heart melt like Traci’s beautiful, bright smile that can light up a room, especially the sweet little one that seems to be especially for him. (And hey, if she has those gorgeous, long legs as a bonus, who is he to complain?)

They’re in love, that’s the bottom line. They’re at their happiest together and each brings out the best in the other. Bless these adorable dorks.

Hope you all enjoyed this and join me in praying we get a season 5 in a few years! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slice 9

Alexander Sweetapple series

This isn't much because I'm tired and it's nearly midnight after a very long day, so don't expect much.

Inspired by the slightly evil @womble1 How dare they dangle a concept in front of me like that. Things like this happen - though honestly, I don't think it is as good as it could have been if I had half a brain, but eh, it be fic.

Sometime in the future, I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Alex walked across the room and opened the huge window, letting in the tropical breeze.

The scents of Tracy Island were heady and he found himself breathing in deep. It helped calm his heart.

A bird squawked somewhere nearby and the ocean hissed beyond the dense pōhutukawa trees.

“Thank you, love.”

Alex turned back to Virgil, sitting up in bed, still pale, but so much better than he had been.

His partner must have seen something in Alex’s expression, because he gestured with one hand for Alex to return to him.

Alex didn’t hesitate, crawling across the bed to carefully slide in beside him, avoiding the healing injury in Virgil’s left thigh. He tried to ignore the yellowing bruises and healing abrasions scattered across Virgil’s bare chest, still hesitant to touch, afraid he might hurt him.

Virgil being Virgil, grabbed him with his right arm and drew him in close, kissing his hair. “You’re not going to hurt me. Stop worrying.”

Alex grunted, not willing to admit how much Virgil’s sudden injury and following illness had scared him.

One day they were planning a relaxing dinner in Sydney, of all places. Planning to watch the sun go down over the Harbour Bridge. Then half way through the afternoon, John had called, his voice parched.

Thunderbird One hit Māhia at speed and Alex had been airborne, halfway to London before he could knock two neurons together.

He’d never been to London before.

He still hadn’t really. He’d only been to that hospital, that room, with his seriously ill lover surrounded by family, not knowing if he would ever see those beautiful chocolate eyes ever again.

Scott was a man possessed.

Virgil had mentioned his big brother’s passion for his family. Through Alex’s own terror, he saw the man go from the calm professional to the desperate big brother.

Their father did his best to see to the eldest, but whatever he tried never seemed to be enough.

As for Alex…the days were filled with fear.

“I’m getting better, love. Please stop thinking about it.” Virgil drew Alex’s head down to his shoulder, stroking his hair gently.

Alex leant up and kissed his jawline.

He, too, was shirtless and Virgil’s warmth, both physical and spiritual, seeped in through Alex’s skin.

“What do you want to do today?” They had recently finished breakfast. Alex was ever so happy to see Virgil’s appetite return. He truly was getting better.

“I was thinking of doing a little knitting. Two’s stocks are getting low.” Virgil shifted a little where he sat.

Alex frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Another shift. “Could you do me a favour?”

Alex sat up. “Of course.”

“There’s a bag, green, in that cupboard, second shelf.”

Sliding off the bed once again, Alex did as Virgil asked and found the bag. It was obviously a knitting bag. Metal needles clicked together as he picked it up and several balls of yarn peeked up through its drawstring top. Alex brought it back to the bed. “You never mentioned you knit.”

A half-smile. “It’s a thing.” Out came scarlet needles and a bright gold yarn. “Bit of a tradition.”

As he was speaking, Virgil started expertly casting on stitches.

Alex crawled back onto the bed, ever fascinated by what his love was capable of. “You are so much.”

Virgil stopped mid-motion, frowning just a little. “In what way?”

“Every time I think I know all your interests, you pop up with another one, and to top it all off, you’re proficient in all of them.”

A snort. “You can talk.”

“Yes, I’m an engineer, but that is all I am, Virgil. You? You are an engineer, a bloody brilliant one, mind you. A musician, an artist, a rescue operative and medic. You are so talented and skilled in so many professions…how are you possible?”

An arched eyebrow was pointed in his direction. “You are most certainly much more than just an engineer, Alex.” He reached up and stroked Alex’s arm. “So much more.”

Alex gave him the side eye, ever sceptical. “So what are you making?”

Virgil stared at him a moment before giving in and looking down at the mess of gold yarn in his lap. “Fish for a fish.”

“You’re making goldfish for Gordon? Why?”

“Because this time I was the one who was injured.”

“What?”

Virgil sighed. “We have a thing.”

Alex waited.

And waited. “A thing?”

“Gordon was seriously injured once. He needed some…motivation. So I taught him to knit.”

Blink.

Virgil obviously took that as a question. “He told me it was my turn to make fish.”

This was obviously another one of those Tracy-things Alex was never quite going to understand. The five brothers were a very closely knit bunch, pun intended, and sometimes they did things that defied explanation.

And this was likely one of them.

Alex sighed and curled up beside Virgil, prepared to sit beside him no matter what the man wanted to do. The last week had been hell and he thought that he had lost the one he loved. If that man now wanted to knit random gold fish for his quirky brother, he could knit as much as he liked.

Alex was just happy to have him safe.

As Virgil began to hum, relaxing into what he was doing, Alex let himself smile.

It truly was a beautiful sound.

-o-o-o-