#i dont really like the welcome home community anymore

[patchedrabbit]

this doesn't look wastelandy enough.... oh well listen i know the answer we were given was "oh zacharie's omnipotent he can just go anywhere!!" but I think he should bike to the new zone the judge made WITH the kimties

[castielsprostate]

Why are you acting like the Netherlands haven't just won

hi anon, you chose the wrong person to say this to. please don't fucking come at me with this kind of fucking bullshit. if you didn't read my blog info, which i dont except the average pvv supporter to do (no offense), then you'd know the way i identify! woagh! and you'd ALSO know that i actually don't feel very welcome or safe anymore and that im terrified of the people around me because of the person they voted for. the netherlands did not win, they didn't win anything fucking at all if they're regressing on human rights and electing one of the biggest bigots there are. you say "nederland weer op 1" but you know who funds PVV right? you know he gets his money from russia and isreal, right? you know that he does not care about you, right? and that the regular citizen is nothing to him, right? and you know that after he comes for those from an immigrant background, he will come for the LGBT community. he will come for the disabled. he will come for women's rights. he will come for the rights of everyone except white, rich, old men. he doesn't care about the working class, and he sure as all fuck can't make true on his promises. most of the things he wants goes against our constitution, how fucked up is it that people still voted for that?

he wants to cut off immigration, including those that come here for work. he wants to then increase the size of our healthcare and our healthcare workers. quick question, who is going to work in our healthcare? we are already on a shortage, who's going to pick up what's yet to come?

he wants to build more homes, but who's actually going to build those? like, physically, who is going to put those houses together because, guess what! there's no one to do the fucking work. no one works in ANY of these professions anymore, no one WANTS to work in them either. so he would need to get funding to make schooling free for these professions, or create incentives. but where do we get that money? where would you get a billion to make med school (rough term, not really what the term is here) free for only one year? ah, i hear you say, just pull the funding from ukraine and the developing countries. well, 1.) we can't, we're legally obligated to keep paying, and if he somehow does find a way to stop the funding then 2.) we will be hit with fines from both the EU and the NATO, and maybe even the UN. and guess who will pay that, anon? it will be the working class, since he doesn't want to make companies pay more tax, so it will be you and me that pay for this.

and all that isn't even the massive impact he will have on our climate, and don't try the fucking "netherlands is only a small country, it doesn't matter what we do because the us china and russia and india womp womp" because no matter how small the step is, small steps are worth it, too.

and, may i also remind you, anon <3 dat geert wilders in zijn zielige, donkere kut hartje altijd een VVD'er zal zijn. hij is een waardeloze, racistische, homofobische, ellendige, koude oude man en dat is NIET en zal NOOIT zijn wat nederland nodig heeft.

and finally, geert wilders is NOT what the majority of the netherlands wants, it's what 23% of voters want. every other voter did NOT vote for this buffoon, and you're gonna be in those booths again in 6 to 9 months because of the incompetence of the coming kabinet because geert wilders will destroy it.

en, als laatste. stem links bij de volgende verkiezing. stem GL/PVDA of stem volt, stem op de groene partijen die WEL de begroting doorrekenen, die ons WEL uit deze crisis kunnen krijgen en die WEL om ons geven. denk niet aan de toekomst van alleen morgen, denk ook aan de toekomst van over 10, 20, 30, 40, 50! jaar. want op de manier waarop het nu gaat, is er niet meer dan 50 jaar. en dat ene jaar 0% belasting op boodschappen (wat hij trouwens ook niet kan waarmaken, de belastingdienst heeft jaren nodig voor zoiets te kunnen invoeren lmao. misschien heb je het in 2030! en daarna schiet het weer om hoog <3), is niet waard de gruwelijke dood van jou, je kinderen, en iedereen om je heen.

-all the love, sjonnie, a half turk, queer faggot

[pastel-daydreaming]

I learned about maladaptive daydreaming a long time ago. I made this blog around middle school or high school to find a community and people who understand. Its been completely welcoming, funny, sad, and everything that i needed when my madd was out of control.

It felt like the same day every day, going to school, making weird faces and almost whispering to myself the whole time while daydreaming, and going home. As soon as i was home, i would pace around and stim, and i would daydream for hours on end. I thought i hid it well, until my family would constantly mock me for “pacing in my room all the time”.

I remember pacing around so fast that i would constantly hit my legs or twist them the wrong way. I always had bruises on my ankles and leg pain because of it. I remember stimming with my hands too, especially the painful ones. At one point it was lightly slapping my hands, and when i got too into the daydream I would accidentally slap myself so hard i was snapped back to reality. Another one was rubbing my knuckles together, i remember doing them two different ways. Again, i would get too excited and my hands would be in a lot of pain.

And i would daydream so often that it became an important aspect of me, something that i felt like i needed to do, something that i couldn’t resist or stop. If i couldnt daydream, if i was interrupted, or if i was too frustrated, it was basically the end of the world. It was controlling me. It affected my grades in school, my friendships, and my relationship with my family.

Now im in my second year of university. Im not really sure when, but it got a lot better. When I catch myself daydreaming and pacing, and its easier to stop myself and move on to something else. I dont even stim with my hands anymore, and i never pace enough to cause any pains in my legs.

I still daydream an unusual amount for a normal person, and i still show signs of madd, but it kind of hit me that it’s not the same. Im doing well in school, and its easier to hang out with my friends and my family. I dont really lock myself in my room to daydream, and I dont daydream and whisper to myself as often when i’m in public. Somehow, i got better?

Im not sure if its because i’m older, or if its because i’ve had more responsibilities on me, or something else, but it made me emotional to think that things genuinely got better, and things aren’t the way they used to be. I’m not suffering like I once did. And the best part is, I feel like i can still daydream in a way that’s not hurting me or others around me.

I don’t know if anyone will actually read this, but I hope you’ve gotten better too. I hope that madd won’t rip your life away from you anymore. I hope that you’ll be able to get rid of these awful habits, or at least minimize them. I hope that you can still daydream and keep your para’s in a healthy way.

♥️♥️♥️

[artcommunityvent]

heres my rant for today: (sorry in advance for long post)

i hate how modern art communities have to “fandom-ify” every single new trendy thing literally DAYS (and sometimes even hours) after it drops. i know this is a lot of the same sentiment as those people that just go “popular thing bad” but honestly it really puts me off some medias because i dont want to associate with anyone else who likes it

do we really need a million different fan ocs and aus for EVERYTHING? and like, i know its nothing new, obviously we have the onceler and undertale aus to look back on, but its exhausting at this point because while those communities were presumably genuine, in the present day it just feels like the fandom equivalent to an industry plant. and most people dont even stick with the thing they decide to make their entire personality!!

remember when spiderverse came out and everyone made spidersonas? who can you name thats actually drawn their spidersona more than once? it feels like everyone just trend hops, and yes i know thats how the internet is but its just exhausting especially when it brings down otherwise creative and inspired works

fnaf security breach: everyone makes fnaf aus and glamrock animatronics, then spiderverse as previously mentioned, then welcome home dropped and thats becoming a shitshow with how yall are fandomizing what is essentially a small creator telling their ocs lore in a creative way, and now its happening with digital circus. im so tired of seeing projects that are cool and visually appealing becoming a cesspit of bland, unoriginal aus and piles of fanart only to get dropped when the new shiny comes out

and i wanna elaborate on welcome home for a second because i know damn well if one of these people who makes “daddy dom priest wally is actually the devil” aus had an oc they loved, and someone came along and made their own aus of it in the same way, that person would bitch and cry oc theft. some people dont even change up the characters design, like how entitled do you have to be to essentially just steal someones oc and call it your own? it disgusts me how people are treating clown and honestly i wish they would put the series on indefinite hiatus or complete their story privately to teach these people a lesson

another thing that puts me off is how every piece of media has to have the “fandom daddy” for lack of a better term. glamrock freddy, hobie brown, wally darling, or jax, its all the same thing repackaged; someones gotta be the tumblr sexyman. its so tiring—ESPECIALLY as a lesbian who doesnt really wanna center men in my life at all—to wanna see fanart of the media you like and its only: “heres the one character everyones horny for drawn in a totally different and more sexualized body type” with everyone in the comments salivating over them. i really like digital circus! but all i see are people who would walk across a mile of broken glass just to suck a fart out of jax’ ass. what about the other interesting characters? why does EVERY conversation with popular media have to be about “which guy is the most fuckable” (guy specifically because come on, when has a female character been the highlight of attention; using the previous example have you seen ONE person talking about digital circus that even remembers zooble exists)

it feels like nobody can appreciate work anymore without having to claim some form of ownership over it, to say “hey this thing is so popular and important that it is now a part of my identity!! look at my millions of ocs that i will draw one time and never again!” im just tired of people being unable to passively interact with media they enjoy and everyone seeming to fight over and prove some connection to the things they like

tldr: im tired of everyone in the art community making heaps of fanart, aus, and fan ocs for stuff the second it gets popular and then totally forgetting about it the next time something else gets popular

(and before yall bring up hyperfixations: i am autistic; i understand having so much love for a piece of media for a short while and then dropping it for no reason and its heart shattering; BUT AT THE SAME TIME this pattern is on oxford to me and its on such a large scale that it infects the greater art community as a whole)

That is indeed the nature of media consumer at its finest. I do feel like it is more appearent now due to the way most social media algorithm works. They only show what is trending at the moment, so naturally, we are exposed only to this specific thing until another trend eventually takes over.

Even artists who never create fan content can be influenced to do so by looking at the other artists, be it to dive in along the hype for the popularity of it, for the geniune fun, for the sense of community, and many more reasons.

- ☁️

[muted5ilence]

Me when Eddie Dear Update

But fren pointed out the low low prices for Poppy merch and such things

So Eddie is being actively haunted

And Poppy is just a very very worried character

/lh

But someone saying Eddie might get removed — he died /hj

Poppy is being quietly removed /j

My main notice is that the project actively reflects what we as a fandom (sorta, maybe) have been thinking of

We got characterization actively via the 14 clips and such

And it was “Eddie is being bullied </3” and “Poppy deserves more love” (bc most ppl favor the rest of the cast). Plus we get Sally and Frank fighting, which is funny as a Sally hater (I have mad respect for Frank for that lmao)

So reflecting those things in the COMMUNITY, we get a mostly Eddie-centric update. Confirming that he is in fact left out a LOT, that he is in fact an isolated lil guy (the isolation stuff). Poppy is *quietly* left out of stuff (me when fren said it could be like the birds migrating thing but instead she stays indoors—which tbh she already isolates herself in her home anyways). And Sally is actively being fought (a massive DUB for the Sally haters 😂)

Also I miss my boyyyy, I miss Wally 🥺 They really said “No sir” and locked him up and shit, not allowed to chat on main anymore 😔 Tbf, he did make a mess. But like c’mon, let pookie SPEAK!! Punished for being autistic /j

Anyways I think about the person who made those notebook entries “my name doesn’t matter”

ALSO OML SO MANY Ws ARE USED ACTUALLY (in reference to different things)

Wally, WaLLy, Welcome Home, WHRP, (thats it actually that I can think of)

So when the sign off is •W, I’m gonna think of what little we get

Also note, remember those questions startin’ w/ W, fellas

Who what when where why

And AAAAAAA my brain is making minor connections to things that don’t matter bc ITS SILLYYYY!!! SIlly Silly <3

Anyways yeah I miss pookie and I hope he and/or others will make codes with the new cryptography stuff we gettin’ (cipher)

I always loved those pages in activity books anyways, because looking at a key for reference and translating letters is so fun (despite the tedious back and forth if you dont have it memorized)

[artesianalglassposting]

Spoken Word About Community and Anti Establishment

You are praised for your individuality. They pride you upon resourcefulness.

Great work today! Maybe if you work a little bit harder you’ll get that elusive holiday bonus?

Picture the life

Clock’s off. Time to go home.

Traffic is long, you’re too tired to make dinner.

Its alright there is a heralding force in the night

Mcdonalds, arbies, taco bell, wendys, panda express, jack in the box, in n out, whataburger, carls jr, hardees, sonic, dairy queen, chick fil a, kfc, raising kanes, zaxbys, el. Pollo. Loco

anymore?(audience participation)

Is open! Every building the same, welcome to the modern age, part for the logo upfront.

The walls are grey

The seats are gray

The road you took to get here is grey

The cars are gray

You. you are gray.

Live minimalist they say.

On the way home you see a flier for a show, you work late that night and really

You’d be too tired to go anyways

The radios on or maybe you listen to a podcast

The news runs on your television

It's those immigrants, those lgbts, its this or that, them or us

They are tearing down america! Stealing our jobs!

Or maybe you need a different approach

The job market is crashing, housing market is crumbling

Better watch it or you'll be crushed by the petro dollar when it falls

FEAR

FEAR FEAR

Another episode?

You can't get a date? It's the group of your interest that's the issue, they have evil dna.

Newest trend is out and you're the odd one out

Wanna fix your problems? Skincare is the answer

BUY

BUY

BUY

they tell you the solution! It's BUY and it's OUTRAGE! They tell you it's vote or death!

WHO IS THEY?!?!?

The ever infamous they?

Oh well that's my dad's band from the early 2000s

Oh it's break time! Fifteen minutes mandated

Watch some TikTok

CONSUME CONSUME CONSUME

dream of days of old

When you weren't weighed by how you value in gold

There are people who could help

They tell you they know the way

They love you

They want to help

Follow them

Be one of them

Live them

Love them

Know only their way

Awwww cat video

Times up!

One last vid…

Acab why don't we overthrow the government??

You dont have time to protest.

You have a job

to pay for your bills

and your loans

and for everything they scream to buy buy buy buy. You work to live.

No they say, live to work!!

You are so tired of them. So tired of gray. And you're too late to ever see a show by the infamous they.

How could you overthrow this system?

What time does anyone have for interacting with others?

Other people are horrible they tell you! Look at this karen! Other people are trying to take what you love. Other people are toxic manipulators. Other people could never love you and you them. Their clothes are cringe, their face is imperfect. They are not like you. They are different. You need to be different. You need to be like us. You need to be perfect. You need to be perfectly imperfect. You. you. You.

You think,,, that humans have never lived like this pre the industrial revolution. You miss your friends, your family. The music on the radio sucks.

Oh hey,, it's that 80s song you like.

Oh kurt cobain, sonic youth, and my favorite non political band rage against the machine were really in it now,,,,,

Stop stop

Stop stop stop. A sublime t shirt in a mall window. Lovings what i got? The only joy in your sadsack life was the barista giving you a medium when you only had enough for a small. Or was it the picture of the sunrise you took before getting into your car.

The song you liked on the radio.

The message from your friend saying they miss you. A facebook meme from your mom.

You think of these things and cannot stop.

She still uses the mug you made her in 7th grade. An old highschool acquaintance liked your status, one of the girls in the store complimented your outfit. You are here, you are present.

You in this moment and all of these people are connected.

You buy a trinket for your friend and make a reminder to have lunch with your mom.

Tiny joys you say. What else is there to cling to? Your highschool acquaintance posts a link to a crafting event at your public library.

You can't craft,

you go anyway.

You are tired of listening to they.

You are not like them and you find love in the difference.

You are like all these people and they are like you. Human.

The world is still hard and you are still tired but you have taken off your tinted sunglasses. Mcdonalds is still gray. The streets are still gray. But the sky? That's blue. Your friend's hair? Pink. the crochet pillows at your moms are orange, the baristas nails are purple, the guitarist at the diy shows pick is yellow, the pin you made at the library iis green.

[skin-slave]

Now if the kids could quit trying to get headpats from cishets by bleaching all of the meaning out of an event for adults that centers on sex and bodies... specifically sex and bodies that are branded as uniquely gross, dirty, obscene and sinful... for which our peers have suffered and died, and continue to suffer and die... in favor of making it a pandering, commercialized party that brands us all as cute and quirky and palatable and nonthreatening... specifically by excluding anyone who doesn't fit that stereotype or whose problems weren't solved with OvH... by dusting off classic bigotry and changing a few words around like we won't notice... we wouldn't have anyone asking stupid questions like that. 😊

[moonlightchn]

~WHOLESOME WEDNESDAY~

Hello this is (not) JYPe and guess who's feeling soft again? this mf 💞 heh I just thought hey it's been a while and I kinda am seeing how a lot of us are falling back on activity and posting less and stuff and I kinda feel like the general activity of the community has come DOWN a lot which I mean it's OK!!!! because we all have lives!!!! right? but also I do kinda WORRY LIKE WHERE YALL AT i guess I just kinda wanna make sure we're all doing good? yall holding on? taking care? sleeping and stuff? I've seen also many bots pop up again recently (STARES AT THAT ONE ADMIN THAT MADE LIKE 3 BOTS IN 2 MONTHS WITH LIKE 10 PPLZ EACH YES YOU PLEASE TAKE CARE) and I know bot can sometimes feel like a job more than a fun relaxing place for some so just take it easy on that too just making sure we all remember that things around here aren't that deep and you can take it at your own pace. this has always been supposed to be a safe, fun place where we make friends and have a blast, so if it doesnt feel like that anymore step back, take a deep breath and then come back if you want but like dont feel like you gotta be here and keep putting stuff out for others

I know school work, uni, real work, family, responsibilities, it can all be too much sometimes and drive us a little bit insane. I personally have a 🤩🤩 fun few days coming 🤩🤩 I hope I don't die 🤩🤩 so yeah maybe I'm PROJECTING RN but yknow how it be, I think its important sometimes to remind ourselves that, yknow, stepping back and taking some time for ourselves it's also ok. I sometimes just log out and not having my phone vibrating and notifs popping up for just a few hours feels refreshing. it's ok. you wont miss out on anything important for treating yourself to one internet free day

we take so many things seriously sometimes dont we? like, sure theres things that ARE important like keeping connections and friends and staying healthy and safe, but also theres so many things that are important for ??? no valid reason ??? or that maybe we wrongly prioritize over other things like for example dont prioritize your bot development over your sleep plz don't do that it's not worth it rip, or dont feel like you need to be around 24/7 when you have other things to do or just don't want to. dont feel like you're neglecting bot because you have to study or feel like going out with friends is pushing you back here. dont feel like being behind in notifs is such a big deal. youre a great admin and you're doing well!

but also like,,,, dont prioritize work and uni over sleep and eating and taking breaks and going out and getting fresh air either. really just prioritize yourself first. sometimes being here just as admin and sharing and talking to friends is good enough. you dont always need to be your character, you don't always need to keep an image or a clean neat blog. you can just enjoy and go around shitposting that's really ok! (bunnies for the soul)

yknow it's really cliche to think about it but sometimes you just gotta sit back and be like what am i doing? why am i doing this? what am I taking from this? is this meaningful or beneficial for my life and my growth and my wellbeing? like tumblr as any social media can be TOXIC it rlly still is just because we don't see shit it doesnt mean it's not going on and just because we don't go through something anymore it doesn't mean it hasnt hurt us or leave us super fucking paranoid around.

I JUST AM SAYING that I know many of us maybe feel safe and welcomed and at home here or like we won't get this thing we have here anywhere else but I think we make our own safety and comfort yknow? itd be really sad to see some of you go and the community poof but I also think that for us to keep carrying this thing we have and for us to protect it and for more people to feel welcome and safe we first need to look at ourselves and be sure we can actually keep doing this. I see posts pop here and there about admins feeling sad they get no interactions or how people they talked to has left or how they simply have things going on that makes them sad and unable to be around and I think often we forget, even though we say it ALL the time, that we're all just people behind these. dont forget you're just a person too. I've personally been having quite a hard time coming around with the boys on dms, anyone who talks to me knows that, but as admin? I'm always here. and sure none of us HAS to feel responsible of others, we're not /individually/ responsible of someone's fun or popularity or how long they stick around, but as a whole community we are all responsible somehow of this place's safety and to look ALL after each other. don't forget we're all just people and don't push each other to get things

anyway what im trying to say is that I do fucking love all of you so much and like I worry yknow??? I worry a lot when I see someone upset or I feel like an admin is in a kinda place. it's been just a bit over a year since I've joined this and ive been lucky enough to meet some amazing people that will always live in my heart no matter what and some others maybe I do not really know you or talk to you but I do appreciate your existence yknow you're not invisible and I notice when some of yall delete or when someone I see around makes a new bot and I 👀 or when yall change @s without telling and I have to go through my lists to fix them. maybe it's not enough but I do notice you and I hope you know that. and so because I love all of you I do think that I am a bit responsible of putting at least one smile on your faces throughout the day too be it with a post or a rb or an ask and so I do hope all of you feel a little responsible about someone else's happiness too. I know dash can be hard, I know dms can be hard, and I'm.not saying hey go befriend each other RN but maybe just stopping by someone's bot and "hey this is v cool!", I'm sure that would mean a lot for many people

maybe I just ate too much sugar today. whatever it be, have bunnies I love this kind of art

[castleamc]

The Night We Met

Pairing: Young!Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x Young F!Reader

Words: 4.1k (I swear im trying to make 'em shorter!)

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of food, controlling parents, alcohol consumption, college students, bar at night, young!jack daniels x young f!reader, meet cute 😗

A/N: This one shot can be read on its own without knowing the story of In the Dead of Night, they’re just random moments with Jack Daniels x You because in this house Jack never went to Poppyland. And yes Franki I made a fic based off Lord Huron's song, The Night We Met. And I hope you enjoy this Sophie, ilysm bby! You can listen to the song in the background to get the full vibe while I wrote this if you want of course. Dont look at me like that..*gaga’s voice*

Main Masterlist ⭐️

»»»»»»»❀«««««««

The carnival was packed at night filled with families, young couples, groups of friends at every direction all out enjoying the rides and food. It was the beginning of summer, so everyone that was everyone was here. You’d preferred to be out at night since it was much more breezy and dazzling, the sky had a beautiful contrast to the sparking carnival lights.

Walking past the twinkling lights you can’t help but look up at the sky past everyone’s piercing stares and murmured whispers. They didn't even bother to be discreet at this point.

Your family had just moved into town in time for your new semester in college. News traveled fast in this small part of Kentucky, you found that out rather quickly.

No matter the curious stares, random welcomes, and the occasional side eyes from some people it didn't bother you too much. It’s normal to be curious about new people disrupting this well formed bubble of a community. Given everyone here knows one another. It's not something you’re use to and probably not your most favorite thing ever, but it's your reality now.

You were the talk for the better part of the early summer.

Everyone knew your name, major, and where you came from by the end of the week. They might as well of have known what allergies you had. However no one really bothered to actually speak to you and get to know you that was until you went to orientation.

Enrolling into your new classes had felt isolating to say the least. You didn’t know anyone, you did try to have small conversations with people around you which was cut short. But you didn’t dwell on it, you’re here for a degree and then you’d probably leave right after graduation. Lucky enough your care free attitude caught the attention of one person, Charlie, who loved to gossip. Keeping you in the loop of who’s who, where to go for a quick bite, and even introduced you to her own group of friends. They were all like Charlie in the sense that they related to similar interests, mannerisms yet each one was so different and kind hearted. All four of them complimented one another nicely.

She wasn’t those stuck up people that made you feel bad or judged you for liking a particular thing, in fact she welcomed it. If it made you happy and did no harm so be it, she’d say.

After meeting her and everyone else it didn’t feel so lonely anymore. The whispers became one less thing to worry about. Eventually they became background noise, that was when you're with them.

Alone it becomes the one thing you can't ignore.

You came to the carnival by yourself.

Originally you hadn’t planned to go out tonight, but being stuck at home with your parent’s nagging concerns about choosing the “perfect” career was the last thing you needed.

They always made it a priority to be invested in your education, especially starting college.

You were grateful to that care, it’s not something you’d ever take for granted. Always bringing in decent grades, you wanted to make them happy and did as you were told. Yet, you’re not sure how far you’ll be stretched before you'd snap. You needed to escape the endless demands of which clubs you should join to get recognition or which professors to aid, on and on. It was becoming dreadful.

You know it comes from a place of love, wanting you to be secure and stable. Yet it was unbearably tiring.

So a night out was much needed.

You were swerving quickly past people under the twinkling yellow lights at each stand, the smell in the air was mouthwatering, you didn’t know your legs were pulling you towards it until the smell overpowered your senses. It tasted sweet like apples and baked brown sugar, and then blueberries with peaches right after. Searching to see where it wafted from, you decide right in that moment, before heading to your friends waiting for you at the Bull Riding bar, to head towards the spot luring you.

Mr.Daniel's food stand that had baked pastries was intoxicating the air.

Since you moved in Charle did give you the inside scoop on everyone, that included who Mr.Daniels exactly was. You came to learn that he was a respected kind man that helped everyone as much as possible in town, supposedly. Although you never really met the man, however you knew of his son. Jack Daniels.

Charlie showed you a picture of him, she called him the rebel without a cause. It made you laugh knowing that was the title of a James Dean movie, possibly even fitting for him. He even showed up late to orientation making a quiet entrance not to disturb the speaker. He was attractive with his black leather jacket that was slightly too big on him but it worked. What caught your eyes was the innocent look in his eyes, they were gentle.

Charlie had whispered to you, “All the girls want him, but he just messes with them. So be careful not to fall for his tricks.”

You didn’t quite believe her, judging by the picture and watching him sit near his friends he seemed like a good guy, soft dark brown eyes with short sort of combed over hair, as if he did it in a hurry and said fuck it. But then again looks can be deceiving, so you had your guard up regardless. Better to be safe than sorry.

Heading down the path, you looked to the side to take in how far it stretched. And oh boy did it stretch, it went past 3 food trucks behind you. You’re almost passing by the group of people at the front, sneakily you look at the pies between the space of each person in line. Each pie was perfectly golden brown around the crust and shiny in the center along with a toothpick that displayed which flavor it was.

The closer you got to the front the stronger the smell out of the kitchen truck became immediately signaling your stomach to growl. You really wish you ate before leaving.

As your passing by each person craning your neck with your lip caught between your teeth, a tall dark haired man steps out of the truck’s kitchen. You can’t see his face only his forehead and hair. People are moving back and forth speaking to one another, through the movement you see him place down freshly baked pies with his hands covered in mittens. That’s when you realize it’s him, Jack.

He shoots his eyes up at the people admiring and praising the perfect way the pie's crust are perfectly holden. Adjusting the display he quickly does a double take past the people in line to lock eyes with you.

Jack slowly analyses your face, maybe he remembered you from orientation, but you doubt it until he smiles at you as if he's known you all his life. It was that same easy going smile from the picture that barely wrinkled the sides of his eyes. You returned the smile committing it to memory, but that was it. You turned to keep walking reminding yourself about what Charlie had said, stay clear of him.

Last thing you needed was your parents on your ass going on about how guys are a distraction, you heard it once and that was enough.

You fidget with your sweater’s sleeve walking slowly though, he did seem polite. Is he really that bad as Charlie says?

Taking the risk you look back one more time for the fun of it, but Jack was no longer there. Instead your eyes are met with the delicious pies making your way past Mr.Daniels, who’s speaking making another happy costumer laugh.

“Hold on there Miss! You just moved in correct?”

You stop dead in you tracks, Jack’s father called for you. His dad? Why on earth...

Suddenly the people first in line were eyeing you down waiting for your response.

You press your lips together forcing a shy smile, “Uh Hello! Yes, yes I did.”

“Welcome! I’m Mr.Daniels, my son…” he looks to his right wondering where he ran off to. “Was just here I could’ve sworn he just spo-. Well anyways.”

He cleans his hands bidding farewell to who he was talking to and shakes your hand.

“Which pie would you like? I heard you might have a sweet tooth.”

Might? Understatement. You do. But from who? None of your friends are in line or around you for him to possibly know that. Word does travel fast here…

You step closer eyeing the pies shaking your head, “I’d love that. But I couldn’t possibly skip everyone…”

You’d feel like a bitch, everyone got here in time to make the line. It wouldn’t be fair. You just moved here, the last thing you want is to be the center of a pie scandal.

Mr.Daniels raises his brows, a spitting image of Jack. It warms your heart instantly.

He reaches for the pie cutter, “Nonsense. You’re new here! This is our treat.” He points to, luckily your favorite flavor of pie, cocking his head for your acknowledgement. Watching him slice into the pie you wonder who who exactly told him.

You thank him for his kindness and welcoming you into town as return heading to your friends eating the pie happily along the way.

Whoever it was, thank god for them.

In a few minutes you reached the Bull Riding Bar however, you didn’t want to enter right away. Everyone was rushing to get inside spilling liquor on the ground bumping into one another, it was where everyone in college went to have a great time. A lot of the people entering were students you’ve seen at orientation, enjoying their summer before classes started.

There was a group of people to your right heading to the bar that caught your attention with their roaring laughs and shrieks from girls trying to escape their partner’s kisses. That’s when you saw him again, Jack was walking slowly behind the group talking to a pretty red head. He was making her laugh not once looking at her flirtations, but with his hands in his jacket.

You had to stop yourself from staring at him, you detoured walking in front of the group trying to avoid them from noticing and bumping into you to throw away the plate and to take a spot on the fence.

It was breezy outside leaning on the fence you placed a leg on the wooden panel admiring the kids that were playing with the ponies, their parents were taking pictures of them. Each one watching them carefully pet the horse's beautiful mane.

You’d kill to be able to learn how to ride a horse you think to yourself crossing your arms on the fence to rest your head. You had just moved from the city so there wasn’t any time to learn, let alone an opportunity.

Often at times you feel at a disadvantage. A slight disadvantage. Only because everyone sounded so well trained, skilled with horse back riding meanwhile you barely even touched one for more than a few seconds. It was hard to bond with anyone. You vowed you'd learn one day. You have to, they’re beautiful animals. You feel like you could have a kinship with them, ridiculous as it is, horses somehow feel relatable. With their carefree personalities and free of any responsibilities.

You're not sure if it was the draft or something else raising the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly.

Lifting your head you get a feeling someone watching you watch the horses, but no one is around you. Just an empty fence with the trash can as your companion. It didn't feel threatening, but you take it as your cue to fix your outfit and start heading inside.

The bar was another place that was overly crowded. And not in the best way. You called Charlie to ask her where she was, when she responded she stood on the railing near the bull riding ring raising her arm almost falling over making you laugh.

They’re definitely drinking.

They were all next to each other side by side, leaning on the railing yelling to the rooftops for the person on the mechanical bull not to fall off and to keep holding on. You greet each of the girls who brought their partners, Charlie offers you a closed beer to drink.

Looking over Charlie’s shoulder at the bull rider, you find yourself cheering on for the person to keep holding. They had 5 seconds left to finish when the mechanical bull went into full gears throttling the guy off. He hit the mat so hard laughing, you figure it could be fun to try. Some people to your far right were even placing bets on those who stayed on the longest.

If you do fall at least you’ll get a laugh at it and get to say you did it. That is because, you’ve never done it before.

You poke Charlie and Oliver on their sides resting your chin on their shoulders between them, “Should I do it?”

You bite your lip anxiously, as they look at up each other before bursting laughing. Oliver wraps an arm around you, “That’s not your style, you’ll fall on your ass as soon as you step on the mat!"

You playfully hit his stomach, “Thanks for the vote of confidence jerk!”

Charlie laughs with along, “I’ll buy you beer if you can last 10 seconds on it.”

You raise your brows shooting a glare up at Oliver, “Oh well someone, at least someone believes in me.”

“I bet she could last more than 15 seconds. I can guarantee that.”

Oliver and Charlie dart their eyes past behind you raising their brows, Oliver slowly takes off his arm that was wrapped around your shoulders. You find yourself frozen at the sound of his deep southern drawl that came behind you. You hate to admit it, but you were excited to see.

You turn around feeling time stop just for you to see Jack Daniels, standing tall tilting his head to the side with his eyes glued on you, more specifically your body. In fact, he’s making it painfully obvious that he’s checking you out, only solidifying his "claim" when he shoots Oliver a glare.

You try to swallow absolutely nothing, cursing yourself for drinking beer.

“I’ve never done it before, so I wouldn’t bet on me if I were you.”

His eyes are drawn back to you at the sound of your voice, never once letting go of your gaze.

He furrows his brows together making a disbelieving face, “I’d bet on you gorgeous.”

Your heart thumps against your chest, you smirk at the nickname he gave you.

“Right..It’d be your loss.”

“Do it with me then,” Jack steps forward. “We can win it together.”

Charlie’s words were long forgotten at that moment, you wanted to give him a chance. Why not? If he’s game to teach you how to bull ride, what’s the harm? You finish your beer eyeing him just like he did to you. You’re going to need some liquid courage for what you’re about to do

Boldly you turn around to the front of the fence stepping on the railing leaning slightly forward on purpose to whistle sharply to the handler, “We’re next!”

Hopping off you catch Jack looking at you a little lower than he should be, but you don’t mind it. You softly tip his chin up loving the feel of his warm skin on your finger tips.

“Are you ready?”

“Only if you are darlin'.”

Standing behind the handler your nerves settle nicely stubbornly in as you’re listening to the ticker on the wall counting the seconds, before the girl falls off the mechanical bull. She's loosely hanging onto the horn of the saddle by sheer will. Everyone is yelling to keep holding on as they count down from 10, only to fall in 5 seconds.

Your next with Jack.

You feel excited going with him, but you don’t want to fall on your ass in front of everyone.

Jack notices your leg bouncing along with your hands tapping on the sides of your thighs, are you nervous? It doesn’t cross his mind at all that you’d be nervous, you had this confidence about you. When he spotted you through the truck's window walking by, you were ignoring every single glare focusing on the pies.

Instinctively Jack reaches down to intertwined his fingers with yours to be met with the same gesture giving him the go ahead to squeeze your hand.

“I’ve got you gorgeous. I’m not letting you go, I promise.”

You puff out air nodding up at him, the handler speaks pulling you both from your conversation.

“You kids ready?”

“We’re ready,” You nod stepping onto the mat still holding Jack’s hand.

You quickly search for your friends for some encouragement only to find them with their jaws dropped staring at you. Your eyes follow their direction down at your hand that’s still holding Jack’s.

Hastily releasing his hand, Jack clears his throat and raises his hand to pat your lower back getting your attention as he hops on first. Holding his hand out he guides you how to mount lifting you up and holding your waist firmly in place.

You hear whistles from people around gossiping at how close you both are, even your friends are in disbelief that you’re practically sitting on Jack. A well known player around town, you’d be lying if said you didn’t feel a little confident along side him.

Briefly eyeing the crowd you see the red head Jack was speaking to earlier roll her eyes whispering to her friend.

Automatically feeling bad thinking that you might've stolen her date or that he would’ve abandoned her.

Jack pulls you further back into him, “Listen gorgeous you’re going to have to get closer or we’re both falling off.”

Obeying his advice, you push your ass further pressing into his crotch turning back to him, “Your date seems mad.”

He looks down to you seeming genuinely confused, “What date?”

You scoff shaking your head, “The red head.”

“She’s not my date,” his voice darkens looking down at you, it sends a thrill down your spine. So he's not seeing anyone...

Jack reaches to hold one side of the reins while instructing you to hold the other side opposite of where his hand hard. You caress the leather strap in your hand warming it up in your palm to match his grip. You look down to your side to see his lower legs overlapping yours locking you into place, essentially stretching your legs a bit wider making you push further back into him.

He clears his throat loudly placing his hand on the curve of your thigh, “You’ve got this darlin’. Don’t worry it’ll be fun.”

Surprisingly you trust him, the way his thighs feel behind you, strong and secure. Looking down to his hand tightly holding the reins giving you the impression he’s done this before.

You chuckle, “This is ridiculous! But thank you for doing this with me.”

You would’ve never guessed you’d be here months ago. Pressed up against a handsome southern guy right before starting college. To hell with what your parents thought. Maybe you can enjoy dating and having fun, you might as well.

The handler announces he’s going to start the countdown.

“Don’t thank me yet sweets.”

Did he just call you sweets?

Before you could inquire on the nickname, your both jolted immediately forward and back feeling your ass rub against him. Secretly you liked it, wanting to do it more. You heard him yell for you to raise your arm up and to have fun bringing you out of your thoughts. Without processing you did as he said and focusing on the way you both moved together in a fluid motion. With 15 seconds left to hold on and moving together you start laughing hearing Jack curse every time you went back cause of gravity. His laugh started to come out at every sorry you bellowed when you hit his chest with a sold thump and your hair whipped him in the face.

At 10 seconds, Jack squeezed his legs pinning yours down to the side of the mechanical bull. You had to shift a little to accommodate which at this point along with the back and forth jolts that kept speeding up you were basically sitting on Jack’s crotch. He didn’t seem to mind it since you couldn’t get a hold strong enough not to slip off and take him down with you. You really didn’t want to let him down, so you squeezed your thighs tightly holding the reins for dear life. Those last five seconds went by so incredibly slow trying to maneuver the bull’s frantic turns from the side to side.

If you did happen to fall you didn’t care one bit, this was the most fun you’ve had since you moved. In a matter of seconds Jack made you feel welcomed and happy. He kept laughing long with you at every abrupt turn the machine made, at one point the turn was so fast both your hands touched that made his heart jump.

Everyone started to count down those last five seconds cheering.

Jack held onto you just like how he promised till you both succeeded, you slouched back on his chest resting your cramped hand on his muscular thighs feeling his arms wrap around your waist laughing. He rested his forehead on your shoulder somehow you knew he was smiling incredibly hard.

Exhausted he manages to speak, “I knew we could do it in 15 seconds, maybe next time it'll be longer”

Your cheeks burn squeezing his thigh, “Well aren’t you cocky? So sure there'll be a next time.”

He chuckles patting the sides of your ass which you take as your cue to hop off. Swinging your leg over is absolute pain, you feel the strain of each muscle and weakness trying hard not to wobble waiting for him to dismount.

Jack reaches for your hand providing stability, “Listen sweets, I’m not the one that was sitting on my crotch pressing down.”

You bit your lip laughing up at him, he loved seeing that shine in your eyes.

Exiting the bull riding ring, Jack leads you both to the bar area to get celebratory drinks together. He lets you sit on the one stool available, most likely noticing how tired your legs were from holding on. He stands behind you with one hand resting on the bar table while the other signals for two beers. You find yourself loving being pressed to his chest, like he's shielding you from everything bad in the world even the constant whispers.

You turn your body slowly to look up at him from under your lashes slowly opening your legs for him to fit closer between. Jack steps forward titling his head down a little using his arms on the table to balance himself. He finds himself a bit shaky in the knees watching you look up at him with those eyes, the same eyes that looked at him earlier with such joy. He needed to get to know you.

He leans forward barely touching your forehead testing the waters with you and what you'd allow from him. The bartender already placed the beers behind your back, but they were completely ignored.

“You called me sweets earlier, why?”

There was no possible way he wasn’t the one that told his dad to give you that pie. The gesture itself made you ignore everything Charlie ever said about him, he could’ve just stayed with the red head if he really wanted to get laid or flat out ignore you. You just wanted to hear him say he thought of you in his own way.

His eyes darken staring down at your lips, he shrugs “I had a feeling you might have a liking for sweet things, I noticed you eyeing it, and you looked like a sweetheart..”

He looks down at your body biting his lower lip smirking, “But something tells me you're not just a sweetheart...”

You grin raising your hands that were resting on your thighs up to the line of his jeans hooking a finger in the center teasingly side to side, eventually bringing him in closer slowly, “That was a good guess. I do like all kinds of sweet things. Sweet candy, pastries, even sweet guys that help you learn how to ride a fake bull.”

Jack holds back a deep groan from hearing you say that about him. Everyone in this town thinks he’s no good which isn’t true he’s not a kid anymore, but people here don’t forget. They’re always waiting for him to mess up, but with you it’s not like that. He wants to know more about you, but right now all he cares about is what you taste like. He's desperate to kiss your lips, feel how soft they are.

Watching him lean closer you lick your lips in anticipation taking in his cologne that further draws you to his lips.

With all the noise around you both vanishing, all you cared about was Jack.

You reach up to feel his plump lips meet yours, kissing him you feel him moan savoring your taste. Jack loves the way you still have the lingering taste of the pie you chose and the beer. It's as if the combination was made for specially for him with your lips in mind. He roughly growls wrapping his arms around your waist at the feel of your hands grip his hair.

Parting slowly away you both come back to the reality of where you are. You chuckle wiping off your kiss from his lips with your hand that he catches bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles noting the strong grip you have.

Jack reaches for the beers opening each cap handing yours smiling as you both take a sip.

“So you told your dad about me huh?" You asked playfully raising your brows.

He rolls his eyes grinning so hard that the corner of his eyes form small creases.

Without hesitation he asks if you’d like to meet him to which you happily jumped off the stool agreeing to the idea. You tell your friends you’ll be leaving for the night letting them know you’re okay and will talk to them tomorrow. Heading back to Jack’s dad you both walk silently together with his arm lazily wrapped around your shoulders dangling and yours holding on to his waist.

This time you both pay no mind to the whispers and glares of people walking by at the carnival.

Only having eyes for each other.

»»»»»»»❀«««««««

Permanent Pedro Boys Tags: @mandocrasis, @frenchfryfranki, @snow30285, @greeneyedblondie44, @javierpinme, @sharkbait77, @kirsteng42, @beskarboobs, @cozy-pie, @littlefrescita, @mswarriorbabe80, @leannawithacapitala, @heythere-mel, @voteforpedro09, @just-here-for-the-moment, @djarinladylatin

Whiskey's Agents: @hnt-escape, @woodlandmouth, @demoneyesanddamagedsouls

[saveraedae]

why dont u draw yfm anymore? i saw you used to draw it a lot what happened?

Ok I never answer "Why don't you draw _ anymore?" questions because it just feels like a deja vu of my FNAF days...

But I'll answer just this one because some people probably want to know this one specifically considering one day I just kind of up and abandoned that fandom.

I don't entirely feel welcome there, I made some really stupid drawing as a parody/joke that I posted privately/untagged and people took it seriously and are using that to judge my entire person(??) Like yeah idc if they joke about it and meme on it because it was meant to be a joke anyhow because if someone drew what the art was about with that fandom and was serious then I'm gonna judge them. And like I posted it privately and untagged right??? Creepy imo how they found it. I'm 99% sure I know who 'leaked' (BAD PUN LOL) it, and I have NOTHING against them at all, but like- pls bro it's just a joke i hope you know that. I kinda get annoyed when I see it now because I stopped finding it that funny a while ago but if they still want to joke about it, like i said, i don't care. It was meant to make people laugh anyway.

ALSO before any of you ask NO it is not anything illegal, problematic, offensive, or taboo, in fact it's one of the stupidest things people can get mad about. From what I've seen it's just immature children being assholes to someone who made something they don't like. Like get to know me before you make an assumption about me as a person, seriously.

I can't really entirely leave that community though because of the whole YFM VEVO shit so nah my name is kinda immortalized within the community forever. I probably will never make any more fan art or animations of it. I do still like the characters and listen to some of the songs sometimes but I stopped supporting Ray recently because of his copyright abuse so there's really no point to go back. Like I'm still there but way far on the sidelines just observing. A lurker instead of a content creator if you will. I would be lying if I said that every time I see a YFM fan nowadays I can't shake the lingering thought in the back of my mind that they secretly hate me. :P

And either way, when I join fandoms (aside from MLP since that place has always been my home so to speak) it's usually always a obsessive phase I get into for a couple months that distracts me from working on TMS, which is always my main priority anyhow. I try not to be in fandoms now and just enjoy the media myself.

TLDR - Society.

[khaleesiofalicante]

OK MY ELECTRICITY WENT BUT IM HERE WITH MY LIVE BLOG. Im also wearing a tiara i found during cleaning at 2 38 am...

LXI'S STILL HAVING THOSE DREAMS

You see, that’s how Lexi functioned. Unlike Selena who had a weekly planner with her name doodled on it, Lexi didn’t like having a schedule. She would decide what she wanted to do when she wanted it.

SAME LEXI SAME

IM SORRY IF THIS IS MSOTLY IN CAPS IM TOO EXCITED

lexi

lexi why are you in pain

what what what

whats happening

im freaking out

GEORGIA

There were six of them. Each handle in one colour of the pride flag.

gimme

THE ACADEMY

NO NO NO

these demons can talk as well.

that's what bothers me the most

CLARY STFU YOU KNOW DAMN WELL YOU FOUGHT A WAR AT 15. I know she's worried for valid reasons but im losing it right now.

calm its ok its gonna be ok

georgia collecting the ichor-

i love her so much

Lexi didn’t think it was possible, but the sight somehow made her gayer than before.

me every time i look at amy or rosa from b99

OLIVIA

“Of course you are not dying!” Lexi said severely. “Neither one of us is allowed to die before we finish binging Game of Thrones.”

with the major character death tag right there

dont make me think of georgia getting sick

dont

The bar was extremely low for shadowhunters.

yes it is

OH MULTIPLE POVS

RAFAEL

did i just sob "my child" ?

maybe i did

im so proud of him

LEAVE ME ALONE

wait but in tid sophie was over the age of ascention too

WAIT HOW OLD WAS SOPHIE AT THE AGE OF ASCENTION

WAIT OMG SOPHIE WAS YOUNG

I FORGOT ABOUT THAT

“Life is too short for bad blood,”

yeah. yeah it is

i still really like camilla

He could go to Mexico right now. His heart wanted to do it. His body screamed at him to do it.

It wasn’t the distance that was the problem. He had two warlocks at home. He had a bike. He had money to buy a plane ticket.

It wasn’t the distance at all. Rafael would walk to Mexico for her if necessary.

i screamed so loud here i was grateful for the closed door

CHAIRMAN MEOW

CYUKGUCDGYMDYUD

THE PRECIOUS CAT

WHAT IF THE MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH IS ABOUT CHAIRMAN???

“Y’all really be acting as if portals are like a bag of Cheetos!” Max pointed out seriously. “It ain’t $2.50, bro! Do you have any idea the energy it takes to make a portal? What people actually pay for it? I can’t be making portals for free. I don’t get a salary from the Clave like you do. This is how I make a living!”

SO TRUE

“I was going to say you should go stay at the institute with David,” Rafael said. “But you are right. You are not a baby. You can stay here on your-”

“On second thoughts,” Max interrupted with a grin. “I’m still a fetus in warlock years so I will go the institute.”

THEY ARE SO PRECIOUS

AHHH HE CALLED HER PRETTY THE FIRST TIME HE SAW HER

THEY WERE 7

IM SCREAMING SO MUCH RIGHT NOW

my throat hurts

JAIME MY BABY

Y'ALL I MISSED HIM SO MUCH

“All thanks to the amazing Isabelle Lightwood,” Jaime replied. “I think I am a little in love with her.”

“Who isn’t?” Rafael chuckled.

we all are in love with isabelle lightwood

no no no

where's anjali

where is she

dont fuck with me right now

why does diego look like a mess

“Diego,” the woman rasped. “She is coughing up blood again.”

no

dont

it's chapter 1

stop making me cry

THE LIGHTWOOD SIBLINGS

YUSDFGYUSDFSDGYUD

if anyone gives izzy shit for this i'll kill them

JACE STOP GOING SO FAST

“Jace, if you want to a baby so much then grow your own damn uterus,” Isabelle snapped.

TELL HIM

THIS GOES OUT TO THE WHOLE MALE POPULATION

After Georgia’s birth, they had promised each other that they would always choose the children first. If it ever came to a point, as it often did in their lives, where they had to choose between themselves and the children – they had promised each other to save the children.

dude theres a major character death here

Jace thought for a moment and then grinned at her. “No uterus. No opinion.”

“Selena has trained you well,”

selena my smart feminist child

I JUST KNOW ONE OF THE LIGHTWOOD-BANES IS DYING

AND IM NOT OK

“Do you really need those?” Alec asked, pointing at the glasses.

“No,” Jace replied. “But Clary thinks I look hot with glasses.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Alec shook his head.

Jace turned around. “Really? And your beard is for character building, is it?”

there's no use lying alec we all know why it's really there

I KNOW WHAT LEUKEMIA IS SHUT THE FUCK UP IM LOSING MY SHIT

no

no

she cant die

IF SHE DIES I WILL RAISE HELL

my throat hurts from all the shouting

“Can I get a cinnamon latte with extra cream and two sugars please?” Alec asked.

Jace raised an eyebrow.

“Magnus had a long day at the Spiral Labyrinth,” Alec explained.

“Can’t he just magic his drink?”

“Well, yes,” Alec replied. “But I like buying it for him. It’s called being a good husband.”

aww that's so sweet

THIS IS HILARIOUS

“I’m saying no one can do better than David,” Jace huffed. “He is precious.”

tru

“If you are going to be this way, things are going to be very awkward at their wedding,” Jace muttered.

“They are not getting married, Jace!”

“Do you not want them to???”

“They are nineteen!!”

“Doesn’t mean we are not allowed to think about it,” Jace pointed out. “If they get married, we will be family!”

“We are already family!” Alec all but yelled.

“Yeah, but we will be even closer!” Jace sighed happily.

“You are my parabatai!” Alec said incredulously. “My soul is literally tied to yours! How closer do you want to get?”

THIS IS AMAZING

OH MY GOD I LOVE

JACE BEING OVER PROTECTIVE OVER SELENA DATING SOMEONE IM LOSING MY SHIT

wait how old is michael

"Oh my god,” Jace gasped. “Three out of three! I win!”

“It’s not a competition, Jace!” Alec rolled his eyes.

“It is and I won,” Jace grinned. “You’re welcome, LGBTQ+ community.”

YUP JACE WON

“Can we talk about something else?” Izzy demanded. “We are not those parents who only ever talk about their children.”

Alec cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.”

“Yeah, we have lives of our own,” Jace nodded seriously.

They drove quietly for a while before they started discussing about their children’s love lives again right up until Jace pulled over at Jade Wolf.

of course...

Lily’s face was pale – paler than usual.

lily what's wrong

please lily

anjali...

lily is close to her

of course

“Then we burn all the angels,” Lily growled.

YES YES YES YES

Jace walked in that moment, sipping from his latte. “I bought donuts, y’all!”

A chuckle escaped Magnus. “Jonathan. Your timing is impeccable.”

"Is everything okay?” Jace asked, looking troubled.

“No,” Maia replied. “But at least we have donuts.”

at least they have donuts

“I love you,” he mouthed, and Alec’s heart was okay for a moment.

THE FEELS

ISABELLE

NO NO NO

NO

IZZY

PLEASE

WHY IS EVERY POV ENDING LIKE THIS

They had put on their clothes

AHEM SIR-

they grow up so fast...

no

im crying

dont please

izzy

she was poisoned

oh my god

WHO

GIVE ME NAMES RIGHT NOW

Rafael drank like a dozen a day.

understandable have a good day

OH MY GOD STOP JOKING AS A COPING MECHANISM

Im squeezing the life out of Emma (my emotional support stuffed cat) right now

seelies

the first time i heard the source was angelic my very first incstinct was seelie. I didn't wanna share it because of how absurd it sounded. but it doesn't anymore.

charlotte was poisoned by a seelie unintentionally which cost her her child

oh

OH MY GOD

NO THIS WASN'T IZZY'S COFFEE

MAGNUS GAVE IT TO HER

THIS WAS MAGNUS' COFFEE

SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO POISON HIM.

I'm losing my mind oh my god... I am so scared. Please Anjali and Isabelle please they cant...no i dont wanna think like that. tryna take deep breaths. ok. it's gonna be ok. maybe.

see ya friday!

Now I want to write lbaf while wearing a tiara. Hmmmm. I'll look for one online.

See you Friday! Also hope you had a good birthday!!!

And send pics of Emma!!!!!!!

[unholyhymns]

Hi! I've been getting into theistic satanism/ demonolatry and as a black lgbt agnostic person I'm having a hard time settling into the idea. I'm seeing a lot of mainly white Americans/Europeans practicing these theistic left hand religions and claiming to work with gods and deities from Africa (Egypt) and being insensitive/dismissive towards cultural appropriation (tattoos depicting symbols of closed practices etc.) There are racists and bad people in every religion and belief system known to man so I'm not TOO surprised but do you have any reading recommendations for me or thoughts/experiences on theistic satanism as a whole that you'd wanna share (good or bad!) from a black POV? What makes it feel like home? I'm desperate to hear another voice like mine lmao..

hi! i’ll start off with personal experiences, tho i do have some book recs i can give you. i’ve been in online pagan/’lhp’ spaces for a while now (around like 14 years dskjsdf, tho not all of that was spent on tumblr) and unfortunately, the racism and cultural appropriation is rife no matter which pagan deities are being worshiped. and bc of that, poc get pushed out or our voices get drowned out. that said, i have had… a lot of beef with the kemetic community over the years because at least the norse pagans bother to try and take out their trash. i think the community has gotten better but i honestly have backed out of online spaces for the most part because it has felt very hostile, so who knows. idk if there’s a cohesive lhp community on tumblr bc i avoid the tags like the plague now. but i have yet to find a lhp focused discord server that didnt very quickly dissolve into racism lmao. for the most part, the spaces have been very lgbt friendly tho.

that said, i have had some good experiences online. even some great ones. ive made some amazing friends. there are nonblack/white doing their best to get rid of racism in the communities and i see them and appreciate it. ive had the best luck joining broad pagan servers and lurking the satanism channels there, but honestly. ive kind of just stepped away from online communities. ive found its not really my thing. im not the greatest at online communication and people get on my nerves too much skdfjhsdjf also im a godspouse so if all of the above doesnt cause issues, that fact alone causes contention. so. i just kinda vibe on tumblr with my silly little sideblogs. i have seen some other black satanists in passing on here so we’re def out here, tho i dont know if theres a space for us somewhere. maybe someone’s made a discord? (like i said, i dont go in the tags anymore lol)

as for my experience with theistic satanism, i love it. i am so happy in my faith. personally, my practice has thrived the most when i keep it solitary (tho i know not everyone enjoys that). he’s always encouraged me to forge my own way and my number one method of doing things is to fuck around and find out so the lack of an online community hasn’t really impacted me spiritually. im not sure how encouraging this is skdjfhsdh it feels like home for me because i love my god very very much. ive made a space for him within my own home.

that said, i know it can feel isolating and disheartening; and it definitely has (and still does sometimes), especially when i was at the beginning of my journey. the best thing i can recommend is to find any spiritual space that is welcoming to satanists and staunchly anti-racist/lgbt friendly and sticks to that, and then make friends. even if they arent of your faith, sometimes just having someone spiritual to talk to is really nice.

but also! my DMs/asks are always open if you have questions or just wanna talk.

as for books, here are my usual recommendations for starting out. if you want more, i can definitely go through my collection. i have…….. a lot of books lol:

-The Devil: A New Biography by Phillip Almond

-Satanic Feminism by Per Faxneld

-Satan: A Biography by Henry Ansgar Kelly

-The Devil’s Dozen by Gemma Gary (this is more just… rituals instead of info but ik sometimes ppl want those)

-Poetics of Iblis by Whitney Bodman

-Satan’s Tragedy and Redemption by Peter Awn

i hope this helped! like i said, feel free to send more asks/DMs abt anything or with more questions :)

[urie]

there are parts of philly i literally cannot walk through without experiencing either intense sadness or stomach flips, like if i walk through where the homeless encampment used to be i always feel like crying. that was my home! i lived there for almost 2 months! i walk by where i had my tent and i feel like its hallowed ground. its not nostalgia as much as it is just, a deep sadness

we worked so hard last summer/fall and i look around at what it accomplished and i cant see it. center city philadelphia was on fire, and now its like nothing happened. we built an entire autonomous community at Camp JTD and its just gone. there are bits and pieces of it that remain, like bits of spraypaint they werent able to rub off, etc, people have etched “JTD” into parts of the pavement, and it just sucks, it feels like a ghost town, it feels like it was some weird dream

i get called an accelerationist a lot which is an accusation that i dont really mind, so i was disappointed when things wound down, in some sick inexplicable way i wanted to get tear gassed again, i welcomed the violence and invited it upon myself and i got what i was asking for many times. because it felt like we were changing things. every bit of violence felt meaningful, it felt sincere, it made me think that things were really going to shift and i was fiercely proud to be a part of that 

but its like... nothing. i watched unmarked white vans plow through the barricades at the homeless camp. i watched them swerve to try to run over my friends. i still want to hide and cover my face when i hear helicopters or walk by the police. i cant be in a car driving past the 22nd st exit on the 676 without feeling nauseous. i cant look at the fence we climbed over without feeling a faint version the heart-seizing terror i felt when we were cornered. doesnt help that its kind of dead in the middle of my bike path many days lol

but i watched and experienced these things and i felt like i was doing good and i wanted things to fundamentally and systematically change and then nothing

and i dont just mean the george floyd protests although obviously thats where it started, but its the marconi plaza protests, the walter wallace riots, the homeless encampment, everything i was a part of

i just dont see what we got out of it. other than potentially radicalizing thousands of people lol. and i guess i should just look at that itself as a huge victory, because it is one, it mobilized people, but it also scared people, it traumatized people

i dont know im kind of rambling because ive been thinking about this a lot today/recently and i dont have a cohesive succinct thought right now

i just wanted things to change and i was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen. literally whatever it took. when i was hooked up to the IV in the hospital last year and i told them i was living at the camp and they basically said my body was so exhausted it was shutting down, i remember just thinking “im alive though” and as soon as i was discharged i hopped right on the bus and went back to the camp. curled up in my tent

in a weird and frustrating way, i felt safer in that tent on the parkway than ive felt in my own bed at home at times

i dont know dude

i just really wanted things to be better for the most vulnerable people in my community and in the world and i thought i could be a part of what would make that happen and in the moment it felt like that

but i look around center city and i see no reminders of what happened there. the only thing that looks different is not seeing the frank rizzo statue in front of the municipal building anymore. everything is the same as it was but i will forever look at it differently, i will forever remember everything up in flames

but it doesnt matter, like idfk, nothing changed

every single homeless person from Camp JTD is still homeless. and chauvin is going to rot in prison for the rest of his life but at this point it almost feels like last year just didnt happen. like it was a collective fever dream sometimes. because i dont see what changed in philly. i thought everything was changing and then, nothing

and its weird! i’ll never see my city the same way again but it feels like i am the only one in the world who feels that way. and i feel fucking crazy lol

[pietropatrol]

Marvel High (Part 4)

Read Part 3

A/N: Happy Fic Fri--Saturday! Had this most of the way written up yesterday, but my daughter has not been going down at her bedtime very well so I didn’t get it done before bed! But here I am now, posting as my husband is now trying to get her to go back to sleep. Babies, I tell yah.

Welcome to Marvel High, where being the new kid wasn’t the worst. Your homeroom couldn’t be weirder though; your teacher wears an eye patch and is always shouting for some reason, and a group of dysfunctional teens calling themselves the “Avengers.” Probably the weirdest thing is their insistence that you join.

Pairing: Pietro x Reader Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, teenage substance abuse Words: 1,300ish

The dynamic of the group was odd to witness. They all had drastically different personalities, something you had already gleaned from the bickering during the school day, but under the influence of alcohol, it became even more obvious. It was as if the group was comprised of smaller groups. 

The Maximoff twins were obvious. Natasha and Clint were a pair, that you were sure of. The way they shadowed each other and communicated in their body language was hard to ignore. Either they had been friends for a long time or something was going on between them. Though you felt it would have been inappropriate to ask. Tony and Bruce seemed close, from what you had overheard from their in-depth science conversation at lunch earlier. You could always find Steve, Bucky, and Sam together, but Bucky seemed annoyed whenever he was left with just Sam.

Thor was an outlier and seemed to bounce around all of them seamlessly. His cockiness rivaled Tony’s. Thor appeared to be about six beers deep and enthusiastically telling a story about how he wrestled some unnamed beast in is home country.

“Where is Thor from again?” You turned to Pietro who was watching the group from a distance with you. Though you had felt him watching you when you weren’t looking.

“Some Scandinavian country… we think.” Pietro shrugged. “You sure you don’t want another drink? Nat makes a mean cocktail.”

“I’m sure she does, but I should probably keep my wits about me and not smell like I’ve been drinking. My dad is like a bloodhound with that stuff. One beer was already a risk.”

“So, what is up with your dad anyway? He seems…” Pietro struggled to find the right word.

“Hella protective?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, hell-ah protective, as you so put it.” Pietro inclined his head in your direction, closing the small gap between your bodies.

“He means well. I haven’t made the best choices in my life. And trouble seems to follow me wherever we go. It’s only a matter of time before it finds me here.” You were being intentionally vague. It was a can of worms that someone you just met shouldn’t have sprung on them.

Pietro furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t push. “So, you set fire to your previous school?” He guided you back to the group and you sat next to Wanda on a loveseat, Pietro perched on the arm.

“Fire? Is Y/N talking about setting her school on fire?” Tony had been making his way to the bar when he heard the word fire. Another lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Yes, but don’t even think about sitting next to us with that lit.” Steve waved his hand to the offending object.

“It’s my house,” Tony guffawed.

“Rule eleven, specifically made for you, is not smoking within the group circle, because not all of us are trying to get lung cancer before twenty-five.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s unfair that we have rules specifically aimed at me. But fine.” Tony dropped his cigarette into his glass and joined the group.

“Rules?” You echoed.

“Top secret,” Tony winked, “Back to the fire, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t anything crazy. I was in wood shop and got bored, wondered if I could burn in a design on a plank with my lighter, and it was highly flammable, apparently. It didn’t take long for the rest of the shop to start on fire, the air was basically half saw-dust.” You shrugged, honestly, it wasn’t the stupidest thing you’d done. It was also an accident for once.

“It only went as far as the home-ec classroom. No big deal, aside from being expelled." 

"Lame!" Tony yawned. "Let's play truth or dare!" 

Everyone groaned and threw empty solo cups at him. 

"Why do you always insist on playing?" Nat looked to him, incredulous. "We've been friends long enough that it isn't fun anymore. You just want us to do stupid shit." 

"What's wrong with stupid shit?" Tony insisted. "Besides we have a newbie now!"

  You looked at your phone and saw it was almost ten o'clock. Had it really been two hours already? "Sorry, but I have to head out. Curfew." 

"And here I was thinking you were a trouble maker," Tony smirked. 

"Oh, I am. But I don't want to be grounded for eternity. Great party though, Tony. Thanks for the invite." You made to leave with Pietro and Wanda on following behind you when a young boy, probably about 14, came running in, out of breath. 

"Alright, who invited the freshman?" Steve rubbed his temples. "We agreed, no freshman." 

"Parker isn't going to cause any trouble, the kid's a saint," Tony argued. "What's going on?" 

"Some--oh hi," the freshman saw you. "I'm Peter Parker. You must be new."

"I'm Y/N. You okay, Peter?"  

He was still trying to catch his breath. "Oh yeah! There's a bunch of Hydra High douche-bros who snuck in. They're by the pool." 

"Fuuuucccckkkkk." Bucky cursed. "They're definitely here to start some shit." "Alright, is everybody sober enough to deal with them?" Steve looked pointedly to Tony who was rolling up his sleeves, already looking ready for a fight. 

"We should probably go, you don't need me and Wanda, right?" Pietro looked to Steve. 

"Umm... if you're parked in the driveway, you won't be able to get out. They blocked it with their own cars." 

"Looks like you're going to be late. Sorry." Pietro frowned at you. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. 

"Nah, it's not your fault. How quickly do you think we can scare off these guys?" Tony held up his hand, gaining everyone's attention. "I might have a solution. Let me go down to my basement, and I will meet you out there." 

The group made their way down to the pool. Your other classmates had crowded around, keeping a distance from Hydra.

  Hydra was raiding the outdoor bar and the scariest student among them was lounging on a wicker chair, sipping lazily on a bottle of vodka. A small voice in your head said he was the leader. Maybe it was because everyone else was at work nabbing whatever they could and he was already enjoying their spoils. You just knew. 

"Avengers!" he called out, happily. "Great party!" 

"Avengers?" You whispered to Pietro. 

"I'll explain later." 

The leader's eyes narrowed in on you. "New recruit?" 

The hair stood up on the back of your neck as he stood up and stepped closer to you. He looked you up and down, perplexed. "Do I know you?"

"Doubt it." Pietro pulled you behind him, breaking his line of sight. 

"Maximoff onto a new toy already?" 

"What are you doing here, Keller? I thought we told you not to come near this place again?" Steve pulled the attention to him. "The message was pretty clear when Thor cracked open your forehead." 

"We heard about the dope ass party, Rogers. Thought some of your classmates would want to have a little more fun--" 

"We don't want your shitty drugs." Peter piped up. "Like weed is cool and stuff, but--" 

"Your shit is garbage." Tony sauntered through the group, a contraption strapped to his arms. "And calling it 'Candy Andy' is kinda lame." 

A light emitted from Tony's palm and beam jutted out and shatter the bottle of vodka in Keller's hand. Tony hissed from the hot metal burning into his palm but stood his ground. 

Keller remained calm and held up his hands, though you could see a slight look of terror in his eyes. "Alright, we'll see you around another time then. Good to see you again, Y/N." He winked at you and they took off. 

You froze, you didn't know him, how did he know you?

****

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[thecatinthepurplepants]

So.

I just found out that my dad voted for Tr*mp.

I dont really have words to express what I'm feeling at the moment. Shock, confusion, betrayal. Hurt mostly. This is a man that I've trusted my whole life. A man I came out as Pansexual to, along with my immediate family. A man who said he accepted me. And on some level he still does, I think. I hope.

He told me this morning, when he was talking about voter fraud, something about his ballot not getting processed right or something. He claims his vote was changed but who knows if it actually was. Who knows what I can believe from him anymore anyway. He's always been one to believe in conspiracies rather than the "mainstream" explenations anyways. I guess I just thought that he would never let conspiracies override his common sense and the reality of the situation. I was wrong.

He's angry because, in his words, he can vote for whoever he wants. Which is true, he can. But what he doesn't realize if that a vote says so much more about a person than they think. And it has told me that for all the years I've spent trusting and loving him, for all the friends that are a part of the LGBT+ community that I've brought home, all the POC friends I've welcomed into our house, for all my attempts to tell him that politics aren't just politics for us, he will still choose what he feels is best for him and his worldview and that alone. Its not just throwing out a vote and not thinking about it for us. We have to think in terms of survival and our basic rights being at stake with every vote we cast. I guess I never got through to him. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I've never been the best at debating. I trip over my words and putting complex thoughts into speech is hard for me.

He thinks that Biden is a trojan horse for some kind of lizardman kabal takeover or something, something to do with aliens getting involved in human affairs which, I'll give him, is an interesting concept to think about I guess. But I assumed he had one foot on the ground. In reality. In facts. I assumed that even if he believed in some wild conspiracy that with the information laid out, the stakes on the table clear to see, and the real world implications in clear view that he would never vote based on the predictions of internet psychics and remote viewers who can easily be biased in their own beliefs or paid to "predict" a certain way.

But come to find out he voted for a man not only endorsed by white supremacists but one that encourages their support in him and their violent behavior towards minority groups and his political opponents. He voted for a man who is a habitual and admitted abuser of women and young girls. A man who is so blatantly racist its almost comical. A malignant narcissist who was handed everything by his father, believed he deserved it, and has left a trail of failed businesses in his wake all while claiming to be a businessman. He voted for a GOP platform that not only sought to overturn Roe vs. Wade but also the Supreme Court ruling for same sex marriage. His vote was cast based on conspiracy and propaganda that he consumes from Fox News. His vote was against my rights.

All the off-color remarks about people of different races. All the ignorance on certain things in the LGBT+ community, the disinterest in learning why being LGBT+ is so much more to us than just a label and the culture we have built. What struggles we face every day and our history that we have to sift through old love letters, obituaries, and autobiographies just to catch glimpses of. I just thought it was a product of his time, his upbringing and that maybe deep down it wasn't a reflection of how he actually thought.

He always tells us about "baggage" that the older generations leave behind for future generations to carry in the form of old antiquated biases. How he didn't want us, me and my brothers, to have to carry that too. I don't know if he ever realized that carrying his own still affected us even if he never placed it squarely on our shoulders.

There are many people in our family who I'm very sure would feel differently about him if they knew he had voted that way so I don't know who to talk to about this. I don't want to cause a rift in the family over politics but as I've stated before, politics are much more than background noise to me and many other people because they have to be. I don't want to hurt him or ruin his life over one vote but this... definitely changes things for me when it comes to our relationship. It hurts to think of keeping my own dad at arms length when I was so close to him before but if its what I have to do to keep myself from getting hurt like this again I'll do what I have to. I just never thought something like this could come from him. I thought he was safe.

I want to trust him again. I want to feel safe around him again. But this has been a punch to the gut and I dont know how to breathe around it.

I feel as though my trust in him was misplaced and that is a horrible thing to feel about someone you love.

Any advice on how to deal with this is welcome, I will be looking into it myself as well. If you've read this whole thing then thank you for letting me vent to you, I don't want to be alone with this.

[halorocks1214]

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

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

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

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

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

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I did?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to take over?...”

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

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

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

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

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was easy.

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

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

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

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

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

Back to said story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The response was instantaneous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

We’re all here now.

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

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

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

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

“It was… Zambia.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“I got him.”

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

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

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

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

Son of a bitch.

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

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This kid, man.

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

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

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

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

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

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

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

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

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

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

Alan saved them both.

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

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

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

There, now he watched Alan blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made it all worth it.

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

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.