#i have just now realised that I either have made several characters a year older than canon or my brain has forgotten how ages work

[department-of-landing-strategies]

This reminds me of a persona 5 au I have that has wildcard Makoto, Futaba being the one with record featuring crimes she didn't commit, the P5 protag (who will henceforth be referred to as Akiren) being the son of Adachi and the cousin of the P3 protag (referred to as Minato to try and avoid confusion).

Okay, so, pre P3 canon, Akiren gets into an online game and uses an account called Arsene (rip the use of Arsene as a persona but at least you're still at least semi important to Akiren), which leads to him befriending ankther user who turns out to be Futaba. There's also a fair amount of pleading from Akiren to his parents to either allow him to stay with Minato or allow Minato to stay with them. Said wish gets granted when Minato moves back to Port Island at the start of P3, and Akiren's mother decides it's safe enough to send Akiren with Minato. Neither turn into coffins for the dark hour and make it to the Iwatodai Dorms just fine with the only hiccup being a slight scare of Minato thinking Akiren ran off somewhere on the walk there. Minato unlocks Orpheus the same he does in canon while Akiren unlocks Eurydice as a persona without the use of an Evoker around the time of Junpei gets found during the dark hour by Akihiko. Akiren gets saved from most of P3's plot via Minato agreeing to lead the team only if they don't drag Akiren into fighting shadows. This means he only has to deal with the dorm stuff and can graduate junior high school in peace. The end of P3 happens, and then Akiren moves in with Adachi in Inaba. Makoto starts her first year at Shujin Academy and Akiren should be starting first year at Yasogami, but Minato just became the Great Seal, so sue Akiren for not really wanting to go to high school. Adachi doesn't push Akiren to go to Yasogami, but he is worried about his kid. Akiren doesn't help Adachi but he doesn't rat Adachi out when he figures out Adachi's actions before the IT do (Akiren lives with Adachi so figured out probably around the time of Shirogane's dungeon), partly because despite Adachi's actions, Akiren still looks up to him. Akiren has a persona and can access the TV world which only happened once the night of Dec 7th when Yu is confronting Adachi personally, leading to Yu ending up gettting Akiren out of the TV world. Akiren's mother decides to call in a favour from Sojiro for him to look after Akiren after Adachi gets caught. Not helping Akiren's experience of the stuff happening with Adachi in P4, Eurydice goes dormant. Basically, the whole bugging of Leblanc and a lot of stuff surrounding canon Futaba still happens just replacing canon Futaba with Akiren in this au. Makoto's second year starts, Futaba joins her in the occupation of active high school attendant while being somewhere else in Japan that isn't Tokyo and Akiren isn't having a good time. Plot of p5 happens and cut to the Akiren's Palace arc. Arsene requests a change of heart directly to Futaba who has already been informed of who Arsene is(yes this is my way of dealing with Akiren's lack of hacking skills), probing for details and palace infiltration ensues. All I know for certain for Akiren's palace is that it's absolutely going to include stuff from the Dark Hour and Adachi's dungeon. Cue rest of the plot that I haven't actually figured out and wouldn't have enough characters even if I did.

also i keep finding fics where the p5 protag is from either iwatodai or inaba but i keep imagining it would be hilariously fucked up if he lives in both places while shadow shit was going down

Joker just narrowly misses being the MC or on the MC's squad in 3 and 4 only to finally get caught with 5

[oumaheroes]

Yes ‘how the UK fit in within their politics’ is defo an interesting topic for me! Please shoot me your insights should you feel like it!

The Cleaner

Characters: Scotland

The Captain (England)

The Artist (France)

------

‘Who’s he?’

The lady next to her looked up from the elections sheets she was running through, ‘Which one?’

‘The reddish haired one. Big guy.’

She squinted down the corridor, ‘Oh. He’s... Kirk, something. Part of the treasury lot, I think? He’s always about.’

‘How long’s he worked here?’

The lady looked confused, an embarrassed realisation, ‘I don’t know.’

---

There is a strange man in Parliament.

He isn’t young, isn’t old. He’s worked here for years, yet no one knows entirely how long. Part of the building almost, the cleaner once heard him joke, older than the walls themselves.

The cleaner is old too. She’s been here years, wiping at the floors with the same type of bleach whilst the fashions and technology changed around her. She hadn’t planned to be here forever, it had only been a temporary job at first, but she found that liked it. Still does. It’s solid, sturdy. Old buildings full of her people’s history, its future made around her in the same walls. She’s seen Prime Ministers come and go, seen the Queen visit several times, and all the while she’s right at the centre watching from the side lines.

It’s funny. She doesn’t have the education to be here, nor the money nor class, yet here she is anyway. Even if she had, she couldn’t have been a politician. Not the brains, her mother used to say. All heart, no head. But she loves listening to them work, loves hearing current events unfold even if she’s not included in their making. They never care that she’s standing nearby to lower their voices. Either that, or they don’t see her there at all.

They don’t always seem to see him, either.

She sees him.

She always sees him. She sees how the tall, broad man has been here for years, standing at the side of the party leaders and officials. Sees him listen as keenly as she does to their talk, sees him stare off up at the paintings of old Scottish royalty on the walls. Watches him stand next to the guards and the boys who work down in electrics- his hands smeared with oil whistling next to polished marble and fine expensive gold.

Everyone else, though, seems to forget. Groups part to include him and then leave him behind. She used to ask about him sometimes, drawn to his laughing eyes and confident walk, but no one ever really knew him to tell her. No one remembered clearly that he’d spoken to them yesterday, or that he’d stood all day in the sun with the security team until the sun had gone down. He’d turn away and grow vague, details of him hard to recall and difficult to bring to mind.

Never for her though. For some reason, he’s as clear in the cleaner’s mind as a bell.

He sees her too.

He catches her eye amongst a crowd and lifts his chin in greeting. Winks at her from a podium, gives a wave on the telly that she somehow feels is just for her, where he stands next to men who look just like him, just as strange. Old green eyes, young face. Unseen ghosts over their shoulders, left over from something her mind can’t bring itself to consider.

Some things should not be questioned. There are things in this world that should not be named or recognised, things that deserve the respect of silence. The cleaner has always believed in the old way of things, the wisdom of the past that has endured down the centuries. The rules of the fae, the ways of an older world that is not meant for her. The years have forgotten this man for a reason, and she knows that it is not her place to question the way of things.

It is her last day today.

She still loves her job but it hurts to climb stairs now and there are so many here. She has a few years left in her, would grow bored sat doing nothing at home, so she’s got another position starting Monday to tide her over until she can’t go any longer. It’s somewhere newer and flatter and she’s disappointed with it already.

He finds her just as she’s about to leave, uniform folded and returned and her hands half in gloves.

‘I hear you’re leaving.’ He offers her a card and a small gift bag, ‘Glad I caught you.’

She takes them. ‘Thank you.’

She knows some things about this man. She knows that she loves him as much as she does her own son, knows that she would give him anything if he asked. She knows him as if they’ve been friends for years, and she knows that he knows her too. Her name, her family- all the way back through the generations to the very beginning of her kin.

She doesn’t know what to say. The questions she really wants to ask stay caught in her mouth as they should, buzzing and dangerous. She can’t get them out, can’t put the words in order.

He sees her. All of her.

‘Thanks for all your hard work.’

He offers his hand to shake and she takes it. Understanding flashes through her and then recedes, softly, like mist on the high northern hills.

‘Thank you.’ She says, eventually, ‘For remembering me.’

He squeezes her hand and winks, ‘The same in kind.’

A name comes to her that she dismisses. Swallows it back, feeling foolish.

Deep in her bones, she knows that it’s true.

[harrison-abbott]

To Bail From Home

My mother had died. She was 93 when it happened so that was quite a fine age. My sisters, all three of them, invited me up north for the funeral. I had moved down south a long, long time ago, and had spent little time with my sisters, or mother, ever since then. Honestly, I was sad that my parent had passed; but can admit that a large part of the reason why I moved and stayed south was not to be near them.

What about the father? I have no recollection of him … and thus grew up with a perfectly feminine environment. I was a mistake child and my mother bore me at the age of 39. My father perished in a car crash when I was two. The trio of sisters were in the car with him when it happened and it would go on to explain why they were horrible and sadistic for the rest of their days. Not that you can sum up three people in two words; but you are free to make observations as well.

I believe they were angry that I wasn’t in the vehicle with them when the mini bus driver got complacent and smashed into the top corner of the car. Or perhaps they wished they hadn’t been killed in that instant, either: because they had to live with the memory.

And mother, after it occurred. She’d always been an emotional hurricane anyway and with the husband dead it horrified her irrevocably. Moreover, she told the daughters, on several occasions, “It should’ve been you that got taken in that crash! You vermin! You worthless rats!" I remember her saying this line at drunken tempo on sickeningly hot or icily cold nights, way into my adolescence.

With me, her favourite line was, “You’re the worst natural disaster I’ve ever seen, Gumbo.”

Gumbo was my nickname. My real name was/is Gary but they all called me Gumbo. My eldest sister Emma coined it … and I can’t recall where it came from; but it glued in from there.

So, yes – I could go on about the period from eleven years to eighteen years in that household with those four women. All sisters were far older than me, by the way; the next one up being five years my age. But, I don’t feel the need to moan. It was just a mass of intense bullying with lines that would be tricky to invent in big TV shows where all the characters get by by being mean.

I couldn’t not go to mother’s funeral. So I took the train up north, crossing the borders, as the climate got colder and hillier. Super cold, also, as this was in January.

It was odd going back to the homeland and even stranger heading back to the boyhood neighbourhood on the east side of the city. Mother had never moved away from the big house where she raised us; and I had to reimburse that fact: that she brought me up. Not an angel, was she. But – I knew I was a good man myself and some of this was down to the fact that she essentially made me.

There was the small, half-pretty church near the house with the depressed spent priest. And my sisters were all there already with their husbands.

They smiled and waved when they saw me and I felt this huge sense of despair when I saw them, because I didn’t think they’d be in any way glad I was there … Because all train ride up there I’d feared that they would still be mucked off with me that I had left them, oh … thirty years ago thereabouts. And hadn’t turned up to Christmas invitations or come to their birthday parties, etc.

But they were genuine.

They had kids, too. Nephews and nieces – who I barely knew.

And I realised that I hardly knew any of my siblings now. None of their descriptions, now, were particularly remarkable. Each of them overweight, and their husbands too; they worked in dull jobs with average incomes; they had no artistic streak and weren’t quite intrigued in artsy matters.

^ But, see? Here was me being judgemental again when I wasn’t familiar with them. And as we stood there making tiny talk in the windy graveyard waiting for my mother’s coffin to be brought in a big black car, I cursed myself with shame, for being so unforgiving across all these decades … Maybe you take words and insults and sibling stuff far more harshly when you’re young? And especially if you were the smallest of the children then it was far worse for you?

(I wasn’t the smallest physically for that long, though. When I was around fifteen I was around young-man size in terms of physical build, which I’d inherited from ghostly Pop. And there was one time when Emma slapped me – again – over some trivial blah blah argument in the kitchen. Emma hit me like that countless times across childhood, out of habit, often without thinking, and I was forever flinching or ducking her. But, when I was 15 I was the same size of her. So I just walloped her back. Which sent the room silent and left this red new imprint on the rest of her whitened face.)

Mother’s coffin arrived.

As I say – the wind was strong and intense and it blew the leaves all around the kirkyard in a movie’s browns and copper reds. Her coffin was lifted out of the back of the car and we followed it into the church … and I remembered when my old cat passed away back when I was little, at the old house. He was kinda my cat because I was closest too him and a lot of that, or so I liked to feel, was due to us being the two lone males in the household.

He was sick for a long time and then he didn’t wake up or move one morning so we buried him in the back garden under the birch tree and I cried the entire time and all the lady sisters and Mum were there and for once they didn’t make fun of me for crying and they didn’t say anything or intervene and only let me weep.

This was what I thought about when I went into the church’s airy interior and it began to make my eyes vinegary and I knew that now wasn’t the right time for tears. Not yet. I couldn’t cry in front of my sisters like I did back then … even though they weren’t going to mock me for it. I simply couldn’t do it.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,947

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

Cillian’s POV

Shortly after Denise got home from her rather miserable date with Jeremy, Cillian went to bed. It was only 9 o’clock but he thought that he would spend some time finishing reading the book he had started to read two nights ago.

The problem was that, even when he tried hard to focus on the content of the book, he couldn’t.

His mind was overrun with guilt about what had happened between you all so suddenly and unexpectedly and he still wasn’t so sure why he had given into you so easily. It was almost like he had lost all of his self-control in that moment.

This kind of behaviour was unusual for him. Usually, he would have been more sensible than this. After all, he was 45 and never had a one-night stand in his entire life.

Would you share this with anyone?

Probably not, he thought. He had known you for a while and you weren’t the type of woman who was actively seeking attention. You were always somewhat nerdy and a bit of loner. For years, he had known you to be sensible and he always liked that you were looking out for his daughter Denise. You were more mature than her and were always somewhat shy and reserved.

With this in mind, he was even more surprised by your actions. You seducing him the way you did seemed out of character for you which made him nervous.

Did you have feelings for him?

He certainly hoped that you didn’t. For him, this was nothing but sex and he would hate to give you the feeling that it was something more. He didn’t want to hurt you.

He should never have given into you. He knew that it was wrong and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he acted so selfishly because, in his mind, this was exactly what it was. An act of selfishness.

You were young and clearly inexperienced which made this whole thing even worse. It was obvious to Cillian that you hadn’t been with many men before and he felt as though he took advantage of you even despite the fact that you were the one who made a move on him. He should have stopped you.

The fact that he is seeing someone else in Manchester didn’t help either and, whilst it wasn’t anything serious or exclusive, it felt wrong to him to be intimate with you which, in his own mind, brought him to another dilemma all together.

Why didn’t he use protection when he slept with you?

He knew that he could have simply walked into his son’s bedroom and find what he needed. But he didn’t. Instead, he was so consumed by lust that he forgot all about the need to be play it safe. Of course, he always reminded his adult children about the importance of protection and yet, he failed to adhere to his own rules.

Whilst he knew that you didn’t have many sexual partners and any risk associated with contracting STDs was somewhat low, he worried that you weren’t on birth control.

Why on earth didn’t he at least ask you about it? Was it too late to ask you now? Why did you make him pull out?

WHAT THE FUCK HAD HE DONE???

He panicked and he knew he had to talk to you in order to ease his mind.

YOUR POV

After you listened to Denise about her date gone wrong and what an asshole Jeremy actually was, you also made your way to bed. You felt terrible for her but knew that she would meet someone else who would make her happy and treat her well.

But her date with Jeremy wasn’t the only thing you felt terrible about. Even more so, you felt terrible about sleeping with her father which you knew was wrong and yet, you tried to justify it in your head.

Why did you act so selfishly and gave into your sexual needs?

This was something you had never done before. You were rather careful when it came to getting yourself involved with guys.

You had taken a liking in your friend’s father several years ago when you were 19. But then, it was just a silly crush you thought.

When you heard about his divorce however, you began to fantasise about him in your sleep and this was simply a fantasy you had finally acted upon.

This, however, didn’t change the fact that he was your friend’s father.

Would she mind if she knew?

Maybe she wouldn’t. She might just think that you are disgusting for sleeping with her dad but, in the end of the day, you are two consenting adults.

Why couldn’t you stop even when you realised that what you were doing was wrong?

When you made the first move it was almost like you were in a trance. You were overwhelmed. You wanted every bit of it but you never experienced sex quite like this. It was intense and he certainly knew what he was doing.

Whilst Cillian was much older than you, you were extremely attracted to him. Everything about him was perfect in your mind and he felt incredible when he was inside you.

You wanted so much more and thought that, perhaps, if it was just sex, it wasn’t wrong after all.

Together Again

Just as those thoughts raced through your mind, you heard a quite knock on the door.

Thinking that it was Denise, you didn’t bother to cover up as you were sitting on the guest bed in black cotton panties and a tight cotton singlet.

To your surprise, however, it wasn’t Denise who walked into the guestroom when you called out ‘come in’. It was Cillian.

His chin dropped as soon as he saw you. For some reason, he took a liking in your rather simple but yet revealing outfit, your messy hair and your black framed reading glasses.

‘Hey’ you simply said shyly as he was standing there speechless.

‘Hey’ he responded, swallowing harshly before telling you that he needed to talk to you.

‘Sure’ you said, putting the magazine down which you were reading along with your reading glasses. Then, you scooted over on the bed and indicated to him to sit down next to you.

His scent was intoxicating. He was freshly showered and his hair was still wet but you could still smell a hint of his aftershave on him.

‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ you asked without bothering to cover up your naked skin and you could see Cillian’s mind working overtime while the tension was building.

‘About what happened between us’ he then stammered while he observed your eyes wandering towards where they shouldn’t. But, you couldn’t help it and, when you noticed that he was reacting to your presence, you bit your lips seductively.

‘What happened between us was just sex. It’s not a big deal. People have sex all the time and you can trust me Cillian. It will remain our little secret’ you said in a seductive voice while moving your hand over Cillian’s upper thigh, through the hairs on his exposed skin and then all the way towards the rim of his boxers.

‘Y/N’ he barely managed to stammer, swallowing harshly.

‘Yes Cillian?’ you then smirked, noticing the effect you were having on him and moving your hand farther up his legs and beneath his boxers where you began to stroke his cock.

‘You are so hard’ you then whispered as you received no response from him other than a groan and, just as you did, Cillian took hold of you and pushed you beneath him in one swift movement.

Without words, Cillian’s warm lips met yours in a passionate kiss. The kiss was more urgent than before and you loved the way he asserted his dominance as his tongue circled around yours.

He felt such desire for you that he thought he would explode and, whilst he was normally quite vocal, every word he tried to say and every question he was going to ask you, were caught in his throat.

Wrapping your arms round him you ran your hands up and down his firm back as your mouths ground together. Sucking on each other's lips and plunging your tongues into each other’s mouth.

You couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to be kissed in such an experienced, almost sophisticated way and Cillian was marvelling at how someone so young could have learned to kiss so well.

Within split seconds and in between heated kisses, Cillian’s t-shirt and your singlet landed on the floor.

It wasn’t long until Cillian’s mouth left yours and began to wander over your firm breasts and then all the way down to your stomach which is where they came to a halt.

He interlocked his fingers with your panties and pulled them down, letting them join the other clothes on the floor before his head gracefully disappeared in between your legs.

‘It goes without saying, but you need to be quiet’ Cillian chuckled and you barely managed to nod before you covered your own mouth with the palm of your hand as Cillian dipped his tongue straight into your wetness.

‘Oh god yes’ you whimpered quietly as the rasping roughness of his tongue slid along your velvety wetness and sent enormous tremors through you.

You had little experience of either, receiving or, giving oral sex. In your world of mainly inexperienced boys, it was hardly on the agenda as they were generally too keen to get their rocks off to worry overly about your pleasure. In any case in the usually rushed episodes in the back of cars or downstairs with parents in bed there was hardly the time let alone the opportunity for languid pussy licking or sensual cock sucking. In the world of the forty-five year-old man lying between your opened legs, however, it very much was on the agenda and he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did.

You moaned loudly as you were holding Cillian’s head in both hands as he licked the length of your pussy. He did it slowly with just the right amount of pressure making sure that the tip of his tongue fully anointed both lips and licked just inside them on that especially sensitive area.

When you moaned a little too loudly again, he reminded you to be quiet just before he sucked and kissed you again, covering every inch of the outside of your pussy before pushing the straightened tip of his tongue inside and probing upwards licking the insides as he started to tongue fuck you.

‘This feels so fucking good’ you stammered, legs shaking and quivering while Cillian held you tightly and it wasn’t long until you reached an orgasm which sent convulsions through your body.

You moaned a little too loud again as your whole body tingled and felt tender to the touch and tears of pleasure and relief, with a tinge of guilt, poured down your cheeks.

‘That was amazing’ you eventually huffed out as you slowly came down from your high and Cillian kissed his way back up your body until his lips reached yours.

‘You taste so fucking good’ he then whispered into your ear after your lips drifted apart and, just as he did, you reached in between his legs and began stroking his cock which was still rock hard.

‘I want to feel you inside me again…please…just once more’ you begged and the sound of you begging alone made Cillian groan.

‘Fuck Y/N…I want you so much’ he whispered as he pulled down his boxers and his wiggling body urged your legs to open so that his cock lay between your thighs with the bulbous end of it pressed against your lips.

‘Then take me’ you groaned marvelling at the fact your friend's dad was about to fuck you.

With the tip of his cock just slightly parting the lips of your pussy and his arms round your body with his hands gripping your taught bum he muttered something you couldn’t understand. It was obvious to you that his mind was hardly able to accept what was happening. Nonetheless, he wanted it so badly and, with a shrug of his hips, he sank his cock deep into your gorgeously tight and wonderfully welcoming pussy.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian’ you groaned as your fingernails were digging into his back.

He pushed himself in as far as it would go, eliciting more groans from you which he had to quickly silence with his lips.

You felt light-headed and deliriously happy. You also felt very filled. Cillian was bigger than the other guys you had been with and you loved the feeling of being stretched. The folds of skin that guard your clit seemed to be open and that so sensitive place felt to be exposed, so as Cillian started moving slowly up and down it was as though his cock was rubbing on it. You had never felt anything like it before. Just as you had never felt like cumming when a man's cock had only been inside you for a few moments.

Somehow, however, you managed to delay your release just a little bit longer, enjoying as Cillian thrusted into you hard and deep until, eventually, the inevitable happened.

‘Let go, there is no need to hold back’ Cillian reassured you and, just as he did, you allowed your orgasm to wash over you.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you shouted out and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand as he continued to thrust into and watched you lose control.

Your legs were shaking once again as you gave in and, when you finally came down, Cillian pulled out of you.

Thinking that he was done and that he wanted you to proceed as before, you scooted up but, to your surprise, Cillian pulled you on top of him instead.

‘Your turn to take what you need Y/N’ Cillian whispered and you couldn’t help but shiver at his words. He wanted you on top and that was yet another first for you.

‘You can cum again’ he then said but you couldn’t help but shake your head.

‘I don’t think I can, but I am willing to try’ you smirked. He had already given you four orgasms that day which were four more orgasms than anyone else before him had given you.

‘I bet you can’ he then winked and you nodded shyly before taking his hard cock into your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

‘I will be sore tomorrow I think’ you whispered as, with a moan, you sank down on his hard cock.

‘Yes, you will be’ Cillian chuckled as, all of a sudden, he thrusted upwards and deep into your mound, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

Once again, he covered your mouth with his hand as you began to ride him.

‘You feel so fucking good, you know that?’ Cillian groaned as you began to move up and down on his hard shaft. He certainly had become vocal now and you loved it.

‘So tight around my cock’ he then groaned as he met your thrusts and he could hear you starting to whimper.

‘Oh god…yes, fuck my pussy’ you moaned quietly, holding his hand and keeping it near your mouth while sucking on his fingers.

‘Cum inside me Cillian. I want to feel it. Fill me with your cum’ you then demanded as you began to ride his cock harder and faster and, by this point, Cillian had lost all self-control.

The dirty talk, the tightness of your pussy and the way your lips played with his fingers was too much for him.

‘Cum with me Cillian’ you then moaned as you let go and so did he.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes…fuck’ you groaned as such amazing feelings flooded your body and you felt him push into you as far as he could go.

‘Fuck Y/N’ grunted as you both climaxed simultaneously and you soared to a height of pleasure you had never previously experienced when Cillian’s cock exploded sending streams of his cum into you.

‘Oh god that was amazing’ you eventually huffed out when you both stopped moving.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian grunted almost at the same time before his eyes shot open and he saw your satisfied smile.

Carefully, you climbed off him, releasing his cock from your tight pussy before you sat down on the bed next to him.

You spread your legs and, with curious eyes, you looked down on yourself and watched some of Cillian’s cum leak from your core.

‘That feels so fucking good…so warm and wet’ you observed as you collected some of his cum with your finger and brought it to your mouth while Cillian cocked an eyebrow, wondering what you were doing.

‘Uhm…?’ Cillian chuckled, watching you almost speechlessly but yet somewhat turned on.

‘I never had a guy cum inside me but this is so fucking sexy’ you observed with a laugh before reshuffling yourself and collapsing into his arms.

‘Yeah, about that…’ Cillian went on to say…

 Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[1a-imagines]

˗ˏˋ Show off ˎˊ˗

Characters: izuku midoriya

Overview: when he see how impressed you are with his stength, he cant help but show off more of his abilities. Its a shame he didn't realise what effect he was having on you.

Warnings: s m u t, begging, hair pulling. Its pretty vanilla.

A/n: This is my first time posting smut so please be gentle on my soul.

This ones for my hornee friends. You know who you are. :>

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"This is so exciting!" You happily bounced on the balls of your feet as you bubbled over with joy. Your boyfriend laughed at your reaction, he hadn't seen you this excited in so long, it made his heart melt, You're so adorable. If he didn't have so many boxes to move into your newly bought, shared home he'd love to pepper some kisses over your face.

"I know, I'm excited too. Even with all the heavy lifting we have to do today." He chuckled as he reached over to grab another box.

"Oh! Let me help you!" You moved towards him but he shook his head. "No it's ok honey, I got it but can you get the doors for me? He asked as he reached for yet another box. You would be lying if you said you weren't impressed, he was picking up those heavy boxes like they were nothing! You knew he was strong from his line of work, not to mention it showed in his muscles, yet it never failed to make you gush. You'd be seeing a lot more of it now you two will be moving in together.

You rushed over to hold the front door open for him, and as he passed you your jaw dropped. He was casually carrying 6 of the heaviest boxes you had packed like they were a couple of pillows. He placed them down and turned to find you staring with your jaw dropped open.

"What?" He suppressed a laugh at your expression, though he was genuinely confused as to why you were gawking at him.

"Y-you're really strong!" You squeaked. Izuku blink, taking a second to process before letting out a laugh. You had been dating for years and you had seen him working out more than once, yet it still seemed to impress you to no end. "Of course I am!! I am a hero after all."

You blushed, shyly rubbing your arm. You'd probably never get over how strong he was. You weren't a hero yourself, you weren't necessarily strong either, so of course it was bound to impress you! "I-I know but it's still impressive! I guess I just forget how strong you are sometimes."

Usually you were the one teasing him but this time you were the one left with a red face.

Sometimes you forgot how strong he was since he has such a cute face, even though he was much older now, he was no longer a school boy, but his cheeks were still a bit on the plump side, that mixed with his freckles- It was adorable! Somehow he pulled it off so well that they looked so soft and kissable yet he still had a defined jawline and it all went together so well. He was just so handsome-

"Honey? You're staring."

You froze up.

You wanted to hit your head against the door, it was so embarrassing! You've been caught ogling him again and you could see he was enjoying it from the smile on his face alone.

"Come on, let's get the rest of those boxes there'll be plenty of time to stare later." He passed you again, you couldn't believe he was teasing you about this!

You trudged behind him with a red face, making a mental note to get back at him later for this.

---

The night after you two had officially moved in was spent on the couch, your eyes barely open as you slowly fell asleep. You had spent the whole day unpacking and organising everything and it was safe to say that you were exhausted. Izuku seemed completely fine, despite doing most of the heavy work, then again, he had probably dealt with much more physically demanding days with his line of work.

Seeing him moving furniture around on his own, lifting heavy objects that would take the work of 3 people had really been a treat for you, though he caught you staring at him every single time and you could swear he was becoming smug about it.

You tried your best to focus on the movie but the dull lights from the TV screen combined with warmth from your boyfriend made it the perfect atmosphere to fall asleep in. You yawned as your eyes fell close and you felt izuku's hand rub up your side. "I think it's time for bed." He whispered as he looked down at you barely holding onto consciousness.

You really didn't want to have to move but falling asleep on the couch would be uncomfortable. You nodded and forced your body to push yourself up only to feel a hand go under your legs and another behind you back. You were lifted up.

Your eyes peaked open slightly, you were cradled against Izuku's chest, he was carrying you to bed. "Strong.." You muttered which earned a small laugh from your boyfriend. "I don't know how heavy you think you are but this of all things shouldn't be so impressive to you."

"I really weigh nothing to you huh?"

"Well, I can usually carry about 5-6 people in one go when rescuing. So no, you don't." He replied and even in your sleepy state you could hear the prideful tone in his voice as he spoke. If you weren't so sleepy right now you might have teased him for that. It almost sounded like he was trying to show off a little.. which was strangely out of character for him, and yet it was working on you.

You couldn't help but admire his strength, then again you admired a lot about him. He made you feel so lucky, lucky to be in love with someone so amazing and to have him love you back. It felt too good to be true.

He gently placed you onto the bed and pulled the covers up over you. Your face twisted into a frown at his missing warmth but he quickly crawled in next to you and encased you into his arms.

In your sleep induced state you didn't realise the way your hands were wandering around his muscles as you drifted off, leaving your boyfriend red faced.

It felt- nice… like you were admiring and almost worshiping him. He wasn't egotistical and he never thought to show off how strong he was to others, but when it was you? It felt so good.

He could feel himself slowly becoming addicted to how you reacted to his strength alone. The way you looked at him like he was the most amazing person in the world to you. He was ashamed to admit he wanted more, more of you giving him that look, more of seeing your red face when you got caught.

He looked down at your sleeping face, your hand still placed on his tone stomach, he smiled, butterflies filling his chest.

Maybe he should start showing off to you more often.

---

You were currently sitting on the couch with your laptop resting on your legs. You were catching up on some work as your boyfriend went around cleaning your newly shared home. You had offered to help him several times but he kept insisting it was fine and you should focus on your work.

Even when you lived together he played up to the gentleman role. It had only been a week and whenever he wasn't at work he was insisting on cooking and cleaning for you, though you mostly took care of those when he was on the job since your line of work was much less demanding than his.

You glanced up from the screen to see your boyfriend bent over, his plump ass in the air as he vacuumed under the tv stand. You pressed your lips together as you shamelessly started, why did he always have to wear shorts? They cupped him so well. He probably wasn't even aware of it either.

Something about living together now had helped you to notice anytime he'd bend over or wear something that would show off his muscles more often. You had tried not to be too much of a perv but- well it was kind of hard to control when you were constantly around your extremely good looking boyfriend.

You made sure to quickly avert your eyes once he stood back up so as to not be caught. You couldn't afford to keep going red faced around him, it was too embarrassing.

You played innocent as you focused on your work but you still had a smirk on your face from seeing the lovely sight. Luckily Izuku was too busy with cleaning to notice.

As he made his way around the room and got closer to you, you looked up and got ready to stand. "Oh, need me to move?" You asked as you assumed he'd want to get under the couch too. "No you're good!" He grinned in return.

"Wh- AAH!" You clutched onto the arm rest as he lifted up the couch with one arm. You didn't know what it was but a sudden fire lit in the pit of your stomach. Seeing him so effortlessly lift the couch, with you still on it. Was more than you could handle.

"So strong..." Like your stomach, your face began heating up and you failed to see the grin on Izuku's face at your words. He placed you and the couch back down and took a few seconds to admire the look on your face. It was so cute, it made him feel prideful that his girlfriend was gushing over him so much.

He felt almost guilty for doing this on purpose, for trying to show off to you.

"Are you ok, princess?" He asked with a tilt of his head. You looked up at him with a look of awe and admiration, it's not like he wasn't used to this from his fans. It always felt so nice to know people admired him, but when it was you who was admiring him, something about it felt so much better!

You reached over and tugged at his hand. "Yeah! I just want some cuddles." It wasn't a lie, seeing him do something so amazing like it was nothing made you want to admire him even more. "I still have cleaning-"

"Can you do it later?" You whipped out the puppy eyes and he gave in almost immediately.

"You know, I can't say no to that face." He sat down next to you and without a second to waste you were in his lap cuddling up to him. Your laptop and work were forgotten in an instant as you pressed sweet little kisses to his jaw and neck.

He did not expect his showing off to have this effect on you. He had been showing off in front of you any chance he got but this reaction was still surprising.

Were you pent up? It sure felt that way by how you were sloppily kissing his neck

Since you two hadn't been living together until recently you hadn't had the chance to see his strength in action except for on tv. But seeing it in person and seeing how casual it was for him to pick up such heavy objects or work out for hours and not break a sweat.

It was just too indulgent. How did you get so lucky?

You kept peppering kisses over his face which made him smile. He loved the attention, he wanted more of it too.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” you asked him.

“what do you mean?”

You pulled away from his jaw,your fingers tangled into his hair. You grabbed a fist full of his green locks and he knew what was going to happen. You pulled on his locks, his head tilting back as he let out a small breathy gasp. You knew it was one of his weaknesses. “Don't play coy with me hero~. I’m not dumb.”

"I-I just like the way you look at me." He admitted, his face flushing in embarrassment at the confession. It made you grin,

"Show off." He didn't dare deny your statement, he knew it was true.

You muttered before leaning down to his neck, you let your hot breath linger on his skin, but did not dare to place your lips there until you heard him let out a needy whine.

You could tell by the way his hands squeezed at your hips that he was getting impatient. You began to press light kisses on his skin, slowly making your way around to the crook of his neck. When you pressed a kiss to a certain area you felt him shiver and you knew this was the place to give him a nice bite. You didn't bite him too hard, just enough to leave a mark.

In return he pulled your hips forward to meet his own. The sheer force of it alone told you he was begging for more. "Please, don't tease me."

"You mean like how you've been teasing me all this time?" You heard him gulp. "Count this as revenge." You licked a strip up to his ear so you could whisper to him. "But I also want to worship you, that's what you were after right? Well you win, honey." You felt him shiver beneath you and you knew he was putty in your hands.

His fingers dug into your hips, forcing your shirt up a bit. You moved down to his neck and began to attack that sweet spot you were all too familiar with. Sucking, licking and biting, yet never being too rough about it. You were here to worship his body, not hurt him. You didn't even have to rock your hips as his hands began to guide your hips for you. It was a sign of desperation as he pulled you to grind against his growing bulge. You could feel him throbbing beneath you as his hips buckled, you didn't bother to stop him. It felt so good.

"Aah.. Kiss.." he muttered breathlessly, you moved up to face him, your nose brushing against his skin. You stared down at him with half lidded eyes. "Making demands now huh?" You questioned and he shook his head. "Please?" He added. What a good boy.

Your hands grabbed at his hair and pulled his head towards you, Your lips meeting in desperation, he whined and moaned as your hips grinded against his hard, throbbing cock. He melted into the couch, his breathy moans mixed with yours as he sloppily made out with you, saliva dribbling down your chin. His hands desperately ran around your body, desperate to feel your bare skin, they grabbed at whatever they could, groping your thighs and ass before roaming up to your shirt.

His hands fumbled to take your shirt off but you grabbed his hands before he could and pulled them away. "I don't think so. Not yet."

You hooked your finger under his shirt and he knew what you were telling him to do. He obediently pulled it off and your eyes scanned over him, he could see the love you held for him in them. The way they practically worshiped all his muscles. He loved it.

Your hands ran down his chest to the hem of his shorts. "God, you're so handsome."

You saw his lips curl up as he rested his head on the back on the couch, his chest rising and falling to the beat of his erratic heart, you pressed kisses to his nipples, your padded tongue poked out to lick them, he whimpered, shivering under you.

"You're being such a good boy today. I think you deserve more." You ran your hand through his hair, giving him one last kiss as you yanked his shorts down, his cock sprung out, already slick with precum.

"You're not even wearing underwear?" He really had been trying to catch your attention today. You smirked.

You hopped off his lap and pulled his shorts all the way off so you could open his legs and situate yourself between them. His hands were already on your shoulders in anticipation. He was so needy and he didn't even have to say it, his actions said it all. You smiled at the way precum had already dribbled down the head.

You grabbed the base with your hand and used the pad of your tongue to lap it up, earning some a moan in return. The salty taste hit your tongue and you swallowed it. His hands squeezed your shoulders as your hot breath hit his exposed skin.

Izuku brushed hair from your face so it wouldn't be in your way, he was always so thoughtful, even now.

You tauntingly took the head into your mouth, making sure to look up at him through your lashes so you could see his reaction. His eyes had already slipped close in bliss, his eyebrows scrunched together. You could feel his hips twitch beneath you. You hummed against him, sending vibrations down his length, more greedy whines slipped from his lip and his grip on your tightened.He was always so sensitive, but you liked that about him.

You began moving your head up and down his shaft, slowly, his hands wove into your hair. It didn't take long for him to start grinding his hips up into your mouth. He couldn't help it, he was desperate for more. You didn't stop him, how could you when he was making such beautiful noises. His face scrunched up as those desperate whines and whimpers got louder.

"A-ah fuck. Faster princess, please go faster!" He begged and you quickened your pace, your padded tongue rubbing him in all the right spots as your hand worked the places your mouth couldn't reach. Saliva dripped from your mouth as you hollow your cheeks. He tried not to thrust up too hard into your mouth but the pleasure was just too much. He heard you gag as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and was about to apologise until he heard you moaned again.

"Princess, ah~ i'm going to cum. Mmh~" he pleaded and you pulled back, your hand pumping his slick cock, as more precum began to dribble out of the head.

You replied, "Don't worry baby, go ahead. Cum for me." You reassured him, taking the time to admire the way his lips parted as his hips thrusted up into your hand. His thighs tensed up, toe curling by your knees as he panted, desperately moaning out your name. You could see he was close.

You hand quicked, your thumb teasing his head as the other hand fondled his balls. You pressed kisses to his thigh, licking and nipping at his skin.

"Cum for me hero~" you whispered, his toes curling as he released a loud, drawn out moan. His large palms held onto your shoulders for dear life as his back arched, his toes digging into the floor as he cried out. His hot cum spilled over your chest.

"..ah...baby," he panted. "Did i make a mess again?" He asked, his eyes closed as he came down from his high. You hopped back up onto his lap. Even just having him pressed against you made your heat rise. his cock was still throbbing from the pleasure.

"Why don't you take a look?" You pulled the arm that was covering his eyes away and his lips parted at the sight of your chest covered in his cum.

"We're not done just yet." You rocked your hips forward and he gasped, his sensitivity was doubled since he had just orgasmed.

You slowly began to strip in front of him, not missing the way his big eyes greedily took you in, but you could still see the admiration in them. when your breasts spring free from your bra his lips immediately attached to them. As if he had been waiting to taste them all this time.

You slowly began to rock your pussy against his cock. All the way up, and back down. You felt your wetness smearing all over him and it drove him wild. "o-oh angel~ mmh~" he moaned, feeling your slickness rubbing all over his cock turned him on even more.

He was getting hard again.

You felt Izuku slip down between your legs as you knelt over him. You raised an eyebrow as he pulled your knees to rest by his head. “what are you doing? this is supposed to be about you.”

“Well I want to hear you cry out too.” he smiled up at you and you felt his tongue lick all the way up your clit. You hummed, your hand going back to his hair to pet him. He kisses the folds of your clit,  lapping up all your juices, he moans at the taste before moving down, his tongue prodding at your hole, his nose buried between your walls as he pushed his wet muscle inside of you.

You moaned, lowering yourself onto his face more so his tongue could sink deeper into you. You could hear Izuku's muffled moaning between wet, sloppy noises. He exhaled through his nose as his tongue thrusted into you. His hands moved up from your thighs and massaged your ass cheeks, you felt him pushing you close to him, edging you to fuck his face.

You began to grind your hips down, moaning louder as his tongue swirled around you. “ah- fuck. izu~” he exhaled, hearing you cry out his name spurred him on even more. His kisses got sloppier, his tongue moved faster, writhing inside of you, one of his hands moved around to your clit, his thumb vigorously rubbing at your folds. He wanted you to cum onto his tongue, to taste all of you.

Your thighs clenched around his head and your hand pulling at his hair. He whimpered under you as you grinded against his lips, he found it hard to breath, being smothered between the folds of your wet pussy, but somehow the lack of air only made it more pleasurable. His head was spinning and, absentmindedly, one hand left your body so he could start to rub at his cock, slowly pumping his hand up and down his length at the sounds of your slutty moans. Your hips moved faster,  but when you felt yourself getting close to cumming, so you pulled him off.

He had a mix of saliva and precum all around his lips and cheeks, his hair was messier than usual. His eyes were half lidded from pleasure, his hand still rubbing himself. He was a beautiful, sloppy, mess.

You heard him gasping for breath, “wh-what are you doing, I want you to-”

“Shh, don't worry baby, i’m going to take it from here.”

He sat back up and you hovered over his cock, the tip rubbed against your slick hole, you could feel he was leaking precum again. you gave him a few firm strokes before looking down at him with a smirk. He knew what you wanted, you wanted him to beg for it. Beg to fill you up. So like the obedient puppy he was, he gave into you. "P-please princess! I need you, please- i want you to ride me until I cum inside you. Don't make me wait any longer. Please- aah!!."

You sat down on him before he could finish, letting out a sigh of pleasure as izuku threw his head back. "You fill me up so well don't you baby?" You brushed back hair from his flushed, scrunched up face. He nodded obediently, unable to speak as he panted and whimpered at the feeling of his cock buried deep in your hot walls, taking him all in one go. His hands massaged your breasts as he pressed kisses to skin.

Your hands went to the back of the couch to give yourself some leverage as you lifted yourself back up until only the tip was left in. You watched his face contort into one of impatience. He whined, desperate to have you slam down on him. His hands went to your hips, and slowly pulled you back down.

You began your steady pace, rocking your hips up and down. The sound of wet, slapping skin echoed through your new home. Izuku squirmed under you, his hands digging into your hips as he slowly helped you up and down. His hips thrusted up. burying his cock deeper inside of you and you let out a gasp, your back arching.

You picked up the pace, slamming down on him harder, which in turn made izuku moan louder. You felt the fire in the pit of your stomach building up. You were right above his face so you were able to see all the expression of pleasure he was pulling. He even puckered his lips a few times as a way of asking for kisses, to which you gave him every time. His moans muffled against your mouth as his tongue desperately tried to taste you.

"Y/n- mnh- f-faster please! I need to cum. I want to cum so badly." He whined when he pulled back from the kiss, you felt his cock twitch from deep inside you as it abused that same spot over and over again. You watched as his tongue rolled out of his mouth, he was panting and whining greedily. You lifted one of your legs up and placed your foot on the couch beside him. Changing the position so you could pick up the pace.

Your thrusts got harder, faster, leaving your boyfriend and squirming, moaning mess under you. He begged for more for you to go faster. He wanted to fill you full of his cum.

You saw his hand come up to yours, slipping underneath so he could hold it, he needed to hold onto you as the intense heat kept building up. He knew he was going to come undone soon.

As you quickened your pace you could see him losing it more and more. "Fuck- ah. Izu~ right there." you moaned, squeezing his hand as your walls tensed up around him.

His cock was hitting all the right places. Sweat began to build up on your skin, your breasts bouncing with each thrust of your hips. His back arched and you knew he was getting close too. You could feel his thighs twitching and he buried his face into your neck.

"I love you so much. So so much." He could barely speak through his moans. His other hand grabbed onto your thigh as you rode him as fast as your hips could manage.

You watched as his head rolled back, his eyes wide as his fingers dug into your hips. He clenched his teeth tightly as a wave of pleasure washed over him.

He held you close as you orgasmed together. You rode him through the orgasm, moaning loudly as your legs shook at the intense amount of pleasure.

Hot ropes of cum spilled out inside of you, filling you up and once you came to a stop you pulled off of him, his seed spilling out of you and dripping down your thighs onto his stomach.

You collapsed onto his chest. He sweetly rubbed your hips, light traces from his fingertips trailed across his skin as you cuddled on the couch. His hands gently brushing through your now messy hair like you were the most delicate person in the world. You stayed that way for a while, pressing gentle kisses to each other's bare skin, holding each other close.

"We should really get cleaned up now." He said and you hummed in reply yet made no movement to get off him.

He playfully smiled at your lack of movements and with one swoop he pulled you into his arms and picked you up. Carrying you bridal style to the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

He met your eyes, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

"It's your turn now."

Tag list:

@birds-have-teeth @midnightmoonkiss @xxangelpridexx @sapid-rose @my-bnha-things

[leupagus]

It's the Mileage pt. 3, aka seriously Zach can't catch a break

More from the Twink Nightingale Verse (Nightentwink? Twinkengale?) because I'm waiting on betas for my next It's Complicated chapter and I might as well write this scene that I've been imagining in some form or another since Peter mentioned it back in The Hanging Tree:

*

Another problem I’d started to notice was how Tommy would sort of… randomly not be able to do the job. Or if he did, the consequences were so catastrophic that I had to do everything, anyway.

It wasn’t laziness, whatever you might think about the aristocracy (he swears up and down to this day that he’s not any sort of a minor duke or anything, but I’m understandably suspicious). It was flat out just — well, it was weird, is what it was.

The first time it happened was a couple months into our probation. We’d been called to deal with some sort of argy-bargy at a pub near St. James’s (or maybe St. James’, I can never remember the rules about the apostrophe), but once we’d arrived Tommy had balked like a scandalised goat.

'I can’t go in,' he said.

'I… think you’ll find you can,' I said. I could hear shouting and, worse yet, I couldn’t hear music. Usually they only cut the sound once the fighting has progressed to things that involve words like 'contusions.' I wanted to avoid contusions, but that wasn’t going to happen if Tommy was about to reveal a sudden-onset phobia of belligerent drunks.

'Yes, I suppose I can, but it would be an extremely bad idea for me to do so,' he said, with the kind of rapid-fire clipped speech that I already recognised as him being nervous about something.

'It’s a bunch of chavs having a bad Friday night.' Somewhere in the pub a glass broke. 'Or a bad Tuesday night,' I amended. 'I promise to beat up anyone who has a go at you.'

'No one will make any such attempt, of that I can assure you,' he said, fiddling with his shirt cuffs — he wore the standard uniform shirt, but he’d gotten them altered so that they could take cufflinks, which by the time I noticed, didn’t surprise me. 'Kay, please trust me when I say that you would be far better off going in there by yourself.' And he lifted his chin to show that he really meant it.

The thing about Tommy, though, is that he folds like wet cardboard if you give him any kind of pleading look. I hadn’t asked but I’d reckoned that he was the youngest of his family. Older siblings catch wise to this kind of emotional manipulation.

So he came down with me after all. It was the worst kind of fight, the kind where two people are sincerely trying to kill each other and the crowd’s egging them on. I started wading through, tossing spectators out of the way so I could get to the two in the centre. One of them was a skinny ginger arsehole with, of course, a broken bottle in his hand; the other was a short squat guy with his hair in unflattering cornrows, holding a crowbar. I didn’t really fancy getting in between them, but the stab vest has gone from stab-resistant to stab-proof in the past few years, and most of your run-of-the-mill drunken sots don’t know where the gaps are.

Still, I thought I’d try some vocal calming techniques first. 'Oi!' I bellowed. 'Put the fucking weapons down!'

I’m used to people shouting back at me, or even taking a swing. But neither of them even seemed to notice. Nor did the audience; the people I’d pushed out of the way had swarmed back, and I was swallowed up into the crowd. Not just figuratively, either; I felt like I was being consumed. Violence and blood and fear and excitement — I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, in the stutter of my heart. The fighters were closing with each other again, ready to strike, and I had to watch, I couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but wait for it—

'Drop your weapons,' came a voice from behind me. 'Now.'

To be fair, they did — not just the fighters, but everyone in the pub, a clattering rainstorm of knives and blunt instruments and several firearms which, thank fuck, didn’t go off. I almost dropped my fucking baton before realising that the voice must’ve been Tommy’s, even though it hadn’t exactly sounded like him.

There was a pause while the crowd, the fighters, the bartender, everyone turned toward Tommy, stood still in the doorway. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, but the whole pub backed up a step.

And then another, and then they fucking stampeded out toward the back of the pub, knocking over tables and chairs and smaller patrons. There was yelling and a few screams and someone shouted 'the nightingale!' Then they were gone, like water down the tub drain. I could almost hear the faint sucking sound as the last of them scrambled off.

I hadn’t managed to grab hold of a single one of them, but I noticed the bartender was still here, glaring daggers at Tommy with his arms over his chest. He was another skinny guy, in his mid-forties maybe, the kind who never learned to sit still and so had made a career out of being high-strung and twitchy.

'Ten years,' he squawked, flailing his hands as he came out from around the bar. ’Ten years and not so much as a fucking postcard, you know there was a dead pool going round? And now I’m out of pocket five grand because you wanted to make an impression?'

'Dead pool?' asked Tommy, with the sort of polite interest he usually uses when he’s pretending to listen to our governor talk about his beagles.

The bartender wagged his finger in Tommy’s face. 'You tell your boyfriend that I’m putting all of this on his tab, all right?'

'We are not romantically involved, regardless of whatever rumours you and Stephen put about,' said Tommy. 'And if you want to bill the — police, you’re always welcome to open a small claims dispute with the Department of Professional Standards. However, please remember that I have a witness that can verify I merely asked that people drop their weapons.'

The bartender looked around and seemed to notice me for the first time. Which was a new experience for me, I’ll admit. I tend to get noticed right off. 'Oh — oh,' he said, and gave me a broad smile. 'Well, hello there, darling.'

'Zach,' and now Tommy’s voice sounded different, a bit like before but not exactly. It worked, though; the bartender gave a huff and went off to, I guessed, find a broom.

'Who’s that?' I asked, once he was out of earshot. 'And what was he talking about, ten years?'

'That,' he said, 'Is Zachary Palmer. An old friend of the family, I suppose you’d say,' He gazed after him for a few moments before turning back to me. 'So — what is a dead pool? I thought it was a comic book character or a film or some such.'

'You’re like the world’s shittiest time traveller,' I complained. Later on, Tommy would do some tests to see if I had some sort of clairvoyance ability or something. Jury’s still out, but I think mostly he was just pissed off that I’d managed such a sick burn without even knowing it.

[hadesisqueer]

How do you feel about Yang and how she’s summarized in Vol. 8 as suspicious and emotional?

Late, but better late than ever. I've been waiting for this one. It's probably the longest because as I said, I make either two lines or just an entire character analysis lol. And I'm going to do it properly this time.

Okay, I straight (gay) up don't know where to start. I love Yang. I truly love Yang. She's not perfect, she has many flaws, but that's what I like the most about her. I can't help but laugh when some people say she's a Mary Sue.

Childhood, first volumes.

Yang starts the series as the funny blonde hot girl that goes around punching people. And I liked that, but I also like how she wasn't just that, as I said with Nora being the comic relief. Like, there's so much more in Yang than that, just like Weiss turned up to be much more than just the bratty tsundere.

Yang's mother abandoned her. Her other mother disappeared. Her sister was a toddler that didn't really get what was going on except her mother being gone, and her father was so depressed that for a good while, he wasn't even able to raise her daughters. Can you imagine being in that situation? I imagine she was, at most, six when that happened. She was forced to become Ruby's mother figure at six. She was forced to become the fucking adult in the house at six.

Damn, you can even see the difference between how Qrow talks to Ruby and how he talks to Yang, at least at the begining. He talks to Ruby as her uncle, as her mentor. He may tease Yang a little because she's still his niece, but when he talks to her, he always talks like she's an equal. Like, Tai still considered Yang a kid, but Qrow treats her like an adult, and knows and expects her to be the mature one. Because he saw her all those years, being forced grow up so fast. He trusts her to protect and take care of Ruby, and she trust him to protect her as well.

And damn, all of this really explains her behaviour when the series began. As Ruby got older and started to be able to take care of herself, and Tai eventually started to be functional again, Yang had more freedom. Her personality and eagerness for adventure and parties and all of that - is just her trying to make up for her sacrificed childhood. But even then she still was, out of all the girls, the most mature and nurturing of team RWBY. She is the party girl, yes. The hot headed one that will break legs. But she's still the adult of the group.

And then volume 3 happens. She gets framed in front of the entire world, two of her friends die, Beacon falls, she loses her arm in the most traumatic way possible; Weiss, her friend, is basically taken away from her and Blake -her partner, the girl she probably already had feelings for at that point- left, triggering her abandonment issues. And of course, PTSD, because she isn't fucked up enough already. She's so fucking destroyed that she can't even talk about Weiss, about Blake, about what happened. She doesn't even want talk to Ruby, because she can't stand the thought of her little sister seeing her at that state. She is not used to be the one people have to take care of, and it becomes more and more obvious in the next volumes.

Disability, recovery, abandonment issues

I like how volume 4 treats her recovery. I mean, I wish her storyline was longer, but I also like the DC comics. Now, the thing is, she isn't really recovered. In vol 4, she learns to live with her disability, she learns how to use her new arm, she learns how to fight better than she ever did before. It's about physical recovery. But is she okay? No. She hates being taken care of. She forced herself to be okay, or at least pretend she was, so Tai would let her go with Ruby. And in vol 5, she's anything but alright. She is pretending to be for Ruby's sake, because she is her mother figure and Ruby can't see her like that. She has to face her abandonment issues, she still has PTSD, and she is just not okay. Weiss notices right away, and tells her that it's okay if she is not okay. She noticed how hurt she was about Blake leaving. She just could see through the façade because if Weiss knows about anything, is about loneliness and pretending.

Her conversation with Raven at the end of the volume is just one of the best scenes, because you can just see how much Yang has grown. That scene deserves a post of its own because it's just amazing. But she finally faces one of her fears -her own abandonment issues, though they probably will always be there- and sees right through Raven. Because just like her, Raven just puts a façade to hide her own fears and insecurities, and the moment her own daughter isn't just taking any of that shit, she just starts crying. Because Yang is right. And deep down, she doesn't want to let Yang take the lamp, but she isn't just strong enough. Deep down, she wants to be in Yang's life, wants to protect her, and I think Yang knew that. But it was just too late.

More abandonment issues and relationship with Blake.

Now, to Yang, Blake coming back was huge. Not only in the terms of shipping, but as a whole. In her mind, Blake left her, just like Raven, just like Summer (though Summer didn't do it in purpose), and technically, just like Ruby, though she knew why Ruby did it and understood. But she's probably wondering “what is wrong with me that everyone always leaves me”. And she always has to be the one looking for the person who left her.

Not with Blake. After that talk with Weiss (bless the wingwoman), Yang was able to understand Blake's perspective better. But she didn't think Blake would actually ever come back, because no one ever does. But she did. Not only did she come back; literally, all Blake cared about once she entered the room and saw Yang was her (for once, someone is prioritizing her). And later, she was the one to walk and talk to the team, and tell them she didn't plan to leave again if they accepted her back. She didn't have to look for Blake because she was already looking for Yang. She was the one who made the effort, not the other way around. And to Yang, even though they still had issues to work through, even though she was still afraid at that moment that Blake would leave and break her heart again (All That Matters), that was enough to forgive her. Or at least give her another chance.

Now in volume 6 they clearly have issues. Like, Blake is very nurturing to the entire team because she feels like she has to make up. But mostly, she is trying to make up to Yang. She still feels guilty because of Adam, and she knew that Yang had already abandonment issues before she left and she probably made them worse. She was just trying so hard to be there for Yang so she could understand that she would never leave her again that she made things awkward. Yang is used to be the one who takes care of people, not the other way around. She thought that Blake “protecting her” was her seeing her a weak when actually, it was just Blake just genuinely caring about her but with the wrong words. Blake understood after that, and she changed the phrasing in the fight against Adam. Protecting each other. Equals. It really applies to the Bees relationship as a whole. “You're taking care of me, yeah, but I'm going to take care of you as well, no matter what”. For once, Yang is allowing someone to take care of her (well, except Tai, but again, she wasn't completely sincere with him, so technically she wasn't really allowing him to fully help her). And that's what I love the most about their dynamic, and why I ship it.

PTSD

Now (I'm sorry I'm taking so long), I've seen many, many people saying that Yang's PTSD is poorly written, or that the writers messed it up in the fight against Adam. Now, I have to ask those people: what the fuck do you think PTSD is?

If a Great WriterTM reads this and tries to tell me I'm wrong, or that I don't know what I'm talking about and I don't know anything about good writing and blah blah blah: I have PTSD myself. Diagnosed. So yes, I acknowledge there are many things I'm ignorant about, but I'm quite familiar about this topic. Yang's PTSD is, at least by my point of view, very well-written. It isn't perfect, but it's still far so much better than most PTSD portrayals I've seen in TV, along with Korra's. And I've seen people saying that Korra's portrayal was so much better. Well, let me tell you, it isn't, or at least I don't think it is. It's just different, because the worst thing about PTSD (and what makes it harder to treat) is that it's different for every person; sometimes it can be really severe and obvious, sometimes it seems “light”. Damn, sometimes it doesn't appear until years after the event; mine didn't trigger til I was like sixteen, and the event took place when I was around five or six. And yes, sometimes I have nightmares or flashbacks about it if something triggers me, but it isn't the whole time like some of you apparently think it is. I'm not scared 100% of the time, what the fuck.

When it comes to the fight with Adam, saying it didn't affect her: did you watch the fight? First of all, at that precise moment, Yang was so full of adredaline and too busy keeping Adam from killing Blake that I don't think her brain even realised he was the cause of her PTSD. Second of all, when he triggers it, it does affect her; she starts shaking, he's able to land hits on her that he couldn't before. But PTSD is different in every person, and is a defense mechanism, not a freezing mechanism as some people think. If I see the cause of my PTSD in front of me trying to hurt me again, I'm not gonna freeze; I'm gonna do whatever it takes so they don't ever hurt me again. Same goes with Yang: some people think she should have completely freezed during the fight, like “oh my god this guy fucked me up really bad and now he's gonna do it again and there's nothing I can do oh my god”. No. As I said, PTSD doesn't work like that, at least not always. She's not thinking that, she's thinking “alright this guy really fucked me up once but there's no way I'm letting him do that again”. Again, PTSD is a defense mechanism. A fucked up one, but it's what it is. And the writers handled very well.

Yang being suspicious and not completely trusting someone.

Now, I'm not lying when I tell you that I have no idea about what this could mean. Well, it could be her disagreeing with Ruby and having a bad argument, and that would really break my heart because I just love those two sisters so much. It could also be about Ozpin; she's teaming up with Oscar and hearing Ozpin is back could bring some problems. Or maybe Raven just appears there and she's like Hell Naw. I have no idea.

Conclussion.

I love Yang. She's not perfect at all. She's a bit of a hypocrite with the whole Ozpin thing because she's keeping Raven's identity as the Spring Maiden a secret as well (or maybe she did tell them off-screen? Honestly clear that up already). But she's over all a really good friend and person, an amazing older sister and just one of the most inspiring characters in the show. I see part of myself in her, and I don't see that often in a character. I just love her.

Damn, sorry I wrote the Bible but my girl deserved that.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Dream A Little Dream

Characters → Y/N & Dean Winchester.

Summary → Y/N has always daydreamed of Dean being more than a friend regardless of knowing she wasn’t his type. Is she going to be able to keep her feelings in check when they pretend to be a couple in their hunt for a witch?

Word Count → 2.9k

Warnings → 18+, a little bit of angst, low self-esteem, fluff. Sexy things. Happy ending.

Beta → @princessmisery666 & @daydream3r-xo // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is my Secret Santa fic for @spnsecretsantaficexchange & this story is being gifted to @waywardnerd67 who asked for a friends to lovers, only one bed & plus size reader fic - I hope you enjoy this lovely!

Masterlist

Dean Winchester: a man full of love for the world that didn’t appreciate him. He was a hunter, hero, and saviour. Not that he’d ever call himself anything like that, he was too modest. It was just the family business, saving people, hunting things. And Y/N was lucky, or not so lucky, to experience all of this with him. As his friend. 

Even if it pained Y/N to be near Dean; his charm, his sense of humour, his body, his warmth, all she wanted was to have him closer. Have them be skin to skin, holding onto another tightly in a lover’s embrace. All Y/N wanted was for him to hold her tight, to whisper that he loved her. But she realised, a long time ago, that Dean Winchester would never see her as anything other than a friend.

The sight of Dean flirting his way across the towns they visited, and the types of women he had fallen into bed with, made it clear that all they’d ever be was friends. He acted so candidly with these beautiful creatures and Y/N would never compare to them. Y/N didn’t look anything like the women he was interested in, she wasn’t his type in the slightest. Dean never looked at her with lust or directed that cheeky smirk her way.

Y/N had long ago settled for the relationship that they had, it had to be enough. She had to stop daydreaming about Dean and if there were more meaning to the way he pulled her into a shoulder hug after a successful hunt. The way he tended to the wounds across her body as if she was a delicate flower about to wilt at the feel of a heavy hand. Or how he’d kiss the top of her head as she drifted to sleep against his shoulder as he drove the Impala. 

Those were the most intimate moments, and it had her clutching to the idea of him being more than a fellow hunter and companion. Those sweet daydreams were enough to let all worries disappear and bring her hope. If only he dreamed a little dream of me.

In reality, Y/N would only be Dean’s friend, and that was final. She tucked away her feelings into the smallest part of her being, locked and hidden from everyone. Because, to have a small amount of love from Dean, even if platonic, was enough. 

Y/N had learnt to distract herself, to steer away from the daydreaming and getting lost in his beautiful eyes. She’d preoccupy herself with a game on her phone whenever Dean appeared looking dashing or when he’d stepped out of a steaming shower; his glistening torso and the loosely wrapped towel had been a long tormented situation until she learnt to avoid looking his way.

Coffee would be buzzing through her system so that she didn’t fall asleep unexpectedly against him and when injuries occurred, she began dealing with them on her own just to avoid his touch. It wasn’t so bad to do it by herself, she’d done it before. But, as much as Y/N tried to avoid Dean, it was inevitable that something would come to test her.

It came in the form of Dean’s idea of pretending to be a couple in a restaurant in the hope of catching the witch causing havoc in the small town in the middle of nowhere. Y/N told yourself over and over - ‘this isn’t real, we are just friends.’ But nothing prepared her for the moment she walked into the motel room. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind as they left Sam at the bunker and travelled across state lines for the next hunt. 

Y/N’s eyes blew wide at the sight before her. One bed. One fucking bed.

Dean was completely oblivious to the conflict that raged in Y/N’s head and went straight into the bathroom. At least it gave Y/N some privacy and a moment to breathe. But how could she when her mind swam with hundreds of thoughts all at once? It was like the gods were playing a cruel trick. How were they going to sleep in the same bed, together? And how could she possibly even sleep with him lying next to her? The running water of the shower did little to discourage the more intimate thoughts.

To quiet the voices in her head, she took a seat and looked through the little research that Dean had gathered. The distraction worked for a while, at least until he returned to the room in his loungewear and inspected the suit that Y/N had hung up neatly. She watched him with incredulous disbelief as he grabbed the remote for the television before he climbed onto the bed. 

Dean settled back on the mattress, flicked through the channels until he found something decent to watch and placed his arms at the back of his head. 

He turned his gaze to her, “are you going to just sit there or join me?”

Y/N frowned, “shouldn’t we ask for a different room and do some more research?”

Dean’s focus had already returned to the television, “this is the only room available. We haven’t got to do anything until this evening so just relax.”

Reasoning with herself that if Dean thought it was a problem then he’d say something, she took the spot beside him and lost herself in the drama unfolding on the small screen at the foot of the bed. It was the first time in a long time that she felt relaxed around the older Winchester, even if she was worried about sinking back into old habits.

The opaque garment bag was hooked to the back of the bathroom door, Y/N could see it in the corner of her eye as she readjusted the towel around her body and continued to finish her makeup in the small mirror. It felt like the dress was taunting her, it wasn’t something she’d usually wear, and it had made her feel self-conscious from the moment she pulled it out of the depths of the wardrobe back at the bunker.

The zip on the bag got stuck and almost caught the fabric of the navy dress inside but once it was out of the plastic cover, Y/N inspected it for any tears, but it all seemed to be okay. With the dress now on full display, she backed away and perched on the closed toilet seat. She was stepping into new territory and needed a moment to process it.

Y/N had worn the dress once before, about two years ago. She’d become stuck in her ways and used to the comfort of jeans or leggings paired with baggy tops. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the dress, it’s just that she knew that it would look and feel different compared to before.

What if it shows all my lumps and bumps? I’m going to look pathetic compared to Dean, will anyone believe that we are on a date? Doubt it.

A light knock on the door brought Y/N’s attention back to the reality of getting ready for their hunt and date. The towel was discarded to the floor and she pulled the dress over her head, hoping not to smudge her makeup.

Dean spoke, his voice muffled through the door panel, “we’ve got to go in ten minutes.”

“Just a minute,” Y/N replied and finished adjusting the thin straps and smoothed out the skirt of the mid-length dress.

With one final look in the mirror and a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door.

Y/N had never imagined this would be how the evening would go; sitting in a fine restaurant with Dean Winchester - he was the perfect date, even if it wasn’t a real one. She couldn’t help but wonder if this is what Dean was really like on a date. That Y/N might have caught a glimpse of what it would be like to get his attention.

After three glasses of wine and their delicious meal, the pair of them remained out of luck; there was no sign of the witch or potential victims. Dean paid for their dinner, even after Y/N’s protests to split the check.

The stroll back to the Impala was enough time for Y/N’s thoughts to turn negative. It was as if the second they walked out of the restaurant that reality came crashing down around her. It wasn’t a real date and it never would be because she was not Dean’s type. Y/N didn’t look like those women and she never would, no matter how she looked tonight. It’s not what Dean wanted.

Y/N sunk into the cold leather, it stung against her exposed skin; goosebumps rose across her flesh until the heavy material of Dean’s jack was draped over her. The action made Y/N flinch as she hadn’t realised how close Dean was until he was gone.

“Thank you,” was all she could muster, “and for tonight.”

He smiled softly, “you’re welcome.”

Dean pulled up outside the motel room but neither of them rushed to leave. Hope blossomed in Y/N’s heart, that just maybe Dean didn’t want this to end either. That thought bashed away all the negatives as he turned in his seat. His eyes roamed her face for a moment and a lopsided grin formed. His eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that Y/N adored.

His smile reminded her of the ones he’d given to many women over the years, but this one seemed different; there was a glint in his eyes that made Y/N question if those other smiles weren’t genuine. That this one was real.

“D’ya know it’s been over four years since we met.” He looked back out into the almost empty parking lot before Y/N could nod in response, “and guess what today is?”

Y/N looked at him in confusion, today was no different to any other day. Except, it would be forever etched in her heart as the day she almost went on a date with Dean Winchester and lived to tell the tale.

Dean continued to look out into the dark sky, the stars shining brightly above them, mixed in with the glow of the motel lights.

“It’s been a year since we took down that vampire nest in New Orleans,” Dean mentioned.

Vampires and New Orleans was a whirlwind hunt; one which left Y/N with severe injuries. Nothing was broken but the blow to her ribs had been enough for her to be winded and have heavy bruising for weeks. Y/N ended up on bed rest at the Bunker for at least a month before Sam and Dean allowed her to go on another hunt.

Dean sighed, his head rolling over to look at Y/N once more, “a year since I realised something.”

A shiver ran over her body from the way his voice dropped lower and could barely say more than a whisper as she got lost in his emerald gaze, “what was that?”

“That you mean a lot to me,” Dean responded, not a fleck of a waiver in his tone. 

In the dim light of the lamps, his hand nudged along the seat of Baby towards Y/N’s. At the sight of the intimate gesture, she slid her hand closer. Y/N’s body hummed with butterflies as his fingers laced over her own. This wasn’t a dream or a fantasy, this was real. 

Y/N glanced up to see Dean was already looking at her intently and that’s when she realised, she hadn’t said anything, “you mean a lot to me too Dean.”

A sigh fell from Dean’s plump lips before he leant forward and cupped her cheek with his other hand. Within a heartbeat, Dean’s face neared Y/N’s, eyes closing on instinct as she awaited his kiss.

Dean’s lips softly brushed against her own, a ghost of a kiss, then he pecked a little harder while his thumb caressed the apple of her cheek. Even though Y/N couldn’t believe this was happening, she wasn’t going to hold back any longer and as he pulled away, she gripped the back of his neck and pressed her mouth harder against him. 

Y/N poured every ounce of her feelings into it, shifting closer to him and running her hands through his short hair as his arm wrapped around her waist. A flicker of his tongue across her bottom lip and his hand stroking down her back sent a wave of pleasure to her aching core. 

A soft moan escaped Y/N’s mouth as he massaged the flesh of her ass, giving his tongue a chance to explore her further. The urgency of the kiss heightened as she shifted to straddle his lap but before she had a chance to move Dean pulled away, his hands settling on her biceps.

“I think we should slow down. Can we at least go inside?” Dean asked.

Her head fell back in laughter, and with a nod, Dean pulled Y/N out of the car and towards the motel room. As he fiddled with the lock, something dawned on her; why did he wait a year to tell her? The creaking of the door and the tug on his hand had her following behind.

“Now, where were we?” Dean pulled Y/N close to him, her hands resting against his broad chest.

“I think you were going to tell me why you waited so long to do anything?” She raised her brow at him and tapped his chest with her index finger.

Dean smirked and took a seat at the edge of the bed, patting his thigh for Y/N to join him. Y/N bit her lip and perched on Dean’s knee, arms wrapping around his neck while Dean held her close around the waist, one of his hands stroking her hip. The sensation was driving her wild, but she wanted to know why he hadn’t made a move before now.

“I did sweetheart,” Dean kept his focus on her eyes, “you responded to everything, I was going to do something about it once I knew for sure but then I noticed you had started hanging out with Sam or throwing yourself into research. I thought I’d read everything wrong and that’s when I thought that maybe you were pulling away.”

Y/N listened to every word, nodding for him to continue as her heart raced at his confession; all those moments were real. Not only had Dean been feeling the same way, but he’d also been daydreaming about her too.

“I honestly thought you felt the same way when you fell asleep next to me when we watched that show you like, erm-” Dean paused, his brow scrunching together.

Y/N could see the cogs ticking and chuckled because she knew exactly what he was talking about and wanted to see if he knew, give him the chance to win this moment.

“-Gossip Girl!” He grinned at his triumph, “yeah, you turned over and your hand grabbed mine. Well, it meant a lot.”

“And then you set this up?” Y/N asked with a slight smirk on her lips and a raised eyebrow.

Dean pulled back, his face blank at first, only for a blush to form across his freckled cheeks, “how did you know?”

Y/N’s hands tugged at his collar, loosening the tie, “well, for starters, you did the research.”

He rolled his eyes and then focused on Y/N once more as her fingers made light work of the buttons. Following her lead, he found the zipper at the back of the dress, tugging it down slowly. Excitement pooled in Y/N’s belly and her skin simmered with pleasure at his actions.

“Then, you didn’t want to snoop around the restaurant.” Y/N stood up, letting the dress drop to the ground. 

The confidence in her appearance grew tenfold as Dean’s eyes darkened at her matching lacy underwear and the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. She stepped out of the dress and heels, dropping to her knees in front of Dean and unbuckled his belt.

“Not only that, but there are no other cars in the parking lot and a bright ‘vacancies’ sign outside.”

With her bottom lip brought between her teeth, she glanced up at Dean, “which means that you planned all of this.”

Y/N gripped the slacks at his hips and tugged them down, exposing the hard length that tented his boxers. She couldn’t help the way her mouth watered at the sight of him above her but before she could reach to pull down his boxers, Dean had gripped her arms and pulled her up to his level.

“Well done smarty-pants, now come here.”

Dean’s lips crashed to hers, a fever of pleasure and affection dripping from the kiss as they collapsed back onto the mattress. Their bodies tangled together, heat radiated from them both as they grasped at limbs and kissed without abandon.

That night, they started making up for the year that they had missed out on. The year that they’d both been too hesitant, lost in their daydreams instead of basking in the reality of their love.

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[tsarisfanfiction]

Carry Me Home

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: John, Scott, Virgil

Back to back rescues is a recipe for exhaustion.  Luckily, Scott’s got an eye in the sky looking out for him.

A random discussion with @janetm74 about how much we love sleepy Scott fics somehow turned into this...  Well, it feels like it’s been a while since I posted any fluff, so here you go.

John didn’t have alarms rigged to alert him just before his eldest brother crashed out, although at times that certainly sounded like an appealing prospect.  Maybe one day he’d implement it, considering Scott’s penchant for working until he dropped – literally – but for now it remained a vague concept in the back of his mind.

Today was one day where it might be useful.  It was, he supposed, fortunate that the rest of his brothers had just returned from their respective rescues, leaving him with only Scott to monitor as his big brother packed up after his own rescue.  If he’d been distracted by another brother, or some new stream of important data that needed instant attention, he wouldn’t have caught the signs in time.  As it was, the only thing on his conscious radar at that moment was Scott, and John saw the moment his older brother’s vitals plummeted.

His immediate reaction was panic, his heart jumping up to land in his throat as Scott’s blood pressure and heart rate dropped from its high, adrenaline-fuelled state.  But Scott didn’t keel over, or faint, or outwardly show any reaction at all, and logic sidled its way in before John did something unadvisable.

This was Scott’s third rescue in the past twenty-four hours.  None of them had been easy, but this final one had been particularly physically demanding, with his brother clambering in and around a large and challenging area of craggy rocks - in a couple of cases having to carry a rescuee while doing so.  John was also aware that Scott hadn’t had much by way of sleep, and while he hadn’t been tracking his brother’s every move, he suspected food probably hadn’t featured as much as it should have done, either.

It was the perfect storm.

He watched the camera feed closely as Scott packed away the last of his harness equipment before sitting down heavily in his pilot seat.  A dirty, tired hand rubbed at his face, leaving streaks on the skin in an admittance John knew Scott wouldn’t have made if he’d realised he was being watched.  The yawn, splitting his brother’s face in two and beading moisture in the corner of his scrunched closed eyes, was the last straw.

Scott was not piloting anywhere like that.

Pulling up Thunderbird One’s controls took barely a thought.  By the time Scott’s weary hands rested on the levers, ready to guide his ‘bird into the air, John had locked him out and activated her remote pilot.

It only took a second for Scott to realise that Thunderbird One’s controls weren’t responding to him, but a second was far too long for a man who lived and breathed flight.  John let his hologram flicker into view as Scott grumbled and poked at the controls again, clearly not yet realising that the reason they weren’t working was because John had decreed it.

His brother jumped when he noticed him.

“Everything’s fine, John,” he said, although he was still scowling at his ‘bird’s controls as if he thought there was something wrong.  “I’ll be in the air in a minute.”

“I know,” John agreed pleasantly, and was relieved to see the scowling blue eyes turn suspiciously towards him.  Scott was exhausted, but could at least still do the bare minimum of realise when a brother was up to something.  “Strap yourself in.”  Scott gestured at his shoulder harness, and John barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “The turbulence straps,” he clarified. While the shoulder harnesses did their job in most conditions, Thunderbird One’s pilot seat also came with additional security in the case of heavy turbulence – or, in a worst-case scenario, a crash landing.  Considering Scott was undeniably more creeping further towards sleep every moment – proven by another yawn which he couldn’t stifle – John wanted him fully strapped in.

“Don’t need ‘em,” Scott grumbled.  “Conditions are clear.”

“Scott.”  John had mastered the disappointed parent voice years ago out of necessity, and sometimes even Scott reacted to it. Today, with the older man more asleep than awake, the stars aligned in John’s favour, and the turbulence straps were fastened.  Scott still grumbled, but John didn’t care as long as he was secure.

“What is the point of this?” his brother demanded, failing to hide yet another yawn.  His eyes were half-lidded at best, and another glance at his vitals showed that it was only Scott’s stubbornness that was keeping him awake.  There was absolutely no way he was fit to fly, and John was going to enforce that.

“Relax,” he said, keeping his voice level and low.  “I’ll get you home, big brother.”

“Wha-?”  Blue eyes shot open.  “John, what are-”

John didn’t let him finish his sentence before powering up Thunderbird One’s VTOL and lifting his brother’s ‘bird – complete with said brother safely ensconced within – into the sky.

“You’re dead on your feet, Scott,” he pointed out calmly.  “Get some rest.  You’re in no state to pilot.”

“I’m fine,” Scott tried to protest, but yet another yawn interrupted him and he involuntarily slumped back in the seat.  John took the opportunity to ignite Thunderbird One’s rear boosters and accelerate her up through the sound barrier.

“Scott.”  This time it wasn’t the disappointed parent, but rather the wheedling little brother.  Scott was always weak to wheedling little brothers, and this was no exception.  He slumped back further in the chair, head resting back against the headrest.

“Fine,” he huffed, finally accepting that this was a debate he was never going to win.  Another yawn crossed his face and his eyelids fluttered closed for several moments before they were wrenched open again.  “Just for now.”

The fact that he had caved at all proved how unfit to fly he was.

Blue eyes fluttered closed again, but this time they didn’t re-open.  Scott’s vitals stabilised themselves, far too low for consciousness to be on the cards at all, and John kept an eye on the camera feed as Scott’s chest rose and fell in slow and even breaths.  His brother badly needed the sleep.

After a moment, during which he brought Thunderbird One to a safe, comfortable cruising speed of Mach seven and confirmed nothing was in her flight path, he opened a line to Tracy Island, and his immediate younger brother.

Virgil wasn’t long back from a rescue himself, and still had a smudge of grime on his nose that no-one had pointed out to him yet.

“Another rescue?” he asked. He looked somewhat weary himself, although far from Scott’s own level of exhaustion.  John shook his head.

“No,” he promised.  “Scott’s fallen asleep.”

That perked Virgil up straight away.  “In Thunderbird One?” he demanded, incredulously.  John gave a wry smile in response.

“I’m in control,” he assured him.  “Scott’s exhausted, but safe.”  To prove it, he sent along a copy of Scott’s suit telemetry, which was currently reading vitals consistent with a deep sleep.  Virgil scrutinised them closely for several moments before sighing.

“He needs to stop pushing himself so hard,” he despaired quietly, before collecting himself.  “What’s Thunderbird One’s ETA?”

John glanced across at the figures.  “Half an hour,” he said.  “Scott’s probably not going to wake up before she lands.”  He hoped he didn’t.  Scott needed actual sleep, not a half hour nap in his Thunderbird.  “Judging by his vitals, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sleeps right through.”

Virgil’s eyes glanced over the data again, and his lips thinned in agreement.

“Get him home, John,” he said.  “I’ll take it from there.”

“F.A.B,” John agreed. He didn’t close the line with Virgil, but he did turn away from his younger brother to instead watch his older brother as he continued to guide Thunderbird One home.

As predicted, Scott slept right through the landing half an hour later.  There was a slight stir as she decelerated and rotated, but his eyes stayed closed and he remained slumped bonelessly in his seat as John settled the Thunderbird on her castors and allowed her to roll back to the hangar.

Virgil was ready and waiting on the gantry when John let his hologram flicker back into view.

“Still asleep?” the middle Tracy asked as the Thunderbird came to a stop.  John nodded.  “Okay, I’ve got this.”  Virgil stepped forwards onto the extending loading ramp, and as he neared the cockpit, John disengaged the pilot seat so that it swung out to meet him.  His younger brother didn’t hesitate, reaching out and releasing all the straps and harnesses holding Scott in place before scooping the still-sleeping man up into his arms.

That was, in theory, the end of John’s domain.  With Scott safe and still slumbering away in Virgil’s arms, he was the dark-haired Tracy’s responsibility now, and his hologram stopped projecting so as not to distract Virgil.

Still, John watched as the platform retracted, bringing his brothers back to the gantry, and Virgil walked across the metal towards the elevator.  In his arms, Scott shifted, a sleepy murmur indicating that his sleep wasn’t quite so deep any more.  Virgil was no stranger to handling him, however, and a small, fond, smile crept onto John’s face as his younger brother murmured something quiet and melodic.

The microphones couldn’t pick up exactly what it was Virgil was saying – or, John suspected, humming – but whatever it was seemed to do the trick as Scott settled back down.

There were no blind spots in Thunderbird Five’s coverage of the villa.  John didn’t normally pay close attention to areas outside of the den, kitchen and hangars, largely content to let his family get on with their personal lives without him spying on them, but today he tracked Virgil the entire way from the hangars to Scott’s bedroom.  Virgil was frowning a little by the time he got there, clearly a little suspicious at how little effort it had taken to keep their big brother asleep, and the same unease filtered through John’s mind.

Was Scott really just that exhausted, or had they missed something?

John watched the feed like a hawk as Virgil gently stripped off Scott’s uniform, revealing the plain undershirt and shorts, and his telemetry data disappeared.  Nothing new flagged up as a point of concern, except for the ongoing fact that Scott barely stirred.  Virgil rested a hand on their brother’s chest, and instantly made a face.

The next moment, Scott’s underclothes were also being stripped away, leaving him in just his underwear, and Virgil was dropping them on the floor by the uniform judgementally. Despite the underlying concern, John smirked a little.  Scott had done a lot of physical work on the last mission; it made sense for his clothes to have absorbed the sweat that came with that and he didn’t envy Virgil for dealing with that at all.

Pyjamas were retrieved, but before Virgil began the unenviable task of trying to dress their sleeping brother without waking him, a familiar yellow light skipped over Scott’s body.  John immediately tapped in to the medscanner as Virgil scrutinised the results; just like the suit telemetry, it simply flagged up sheer exhaustion, but with a small caution for dehydration added in as well.

Shoulders slumping in what John assumed was relief, Virgil eased the still-sleeping figure of their brother into loose pyjamas and tugged at the comforter until Scott was nestled snugly in bed.  Just before he pulled it all the way up to Scott’s chin Virgil hesitated for a brief moment, and then a monitor was being carefully attached to Scott’s pyjama top.

John tapped into that as well, relieved that Virgil had thought to attach one, and immediately got the data streaming straight into Thunderbird Five for him to check periodically. Just like the scan, it currently declared no causes for concern, barring an advisory for mild dehydration, and a little bit of tension bled from John’s shoulders.

Seemingly satisfied, Virgil then pulled the comforter the rest of the way, tucking Scott in firmly, only for their brother to stir again.  The pianist’s hand immediately threaded into brown locks, and John watched fondly as Virgil ran his fingers gently through Scott’s hair soothingly.  The microphones in Scott’s room were more sensitive, adjusted for quiet night time conversations, and while earlier John hadn’t been able to hear how Virgil settled their brother, now his voice resonated through Thunderbird Five.

John recognised it instantly.  How could he not, when he’d heard it so many times as a child, first from Mom, and then overheard as Scott did his best to fill in the gaps after the avalanche?  A quiet and gentle lullaby from years long gone by did the trick to settle Scott again, but Virgil didn’t stop singing even after Scott stopped stirring.

That, John decided, was his cue to leave.  Scott was home safe and in good hands – and he had the readings from the monitor to keep an eye on if he wanted to check up on him.  There was no point lurking around and listening to a brother who may or may not realise he was still watching.

He dismissed the feed just as Virgil finished a verse, suddenly plunging Thunderbird Five into silence before the quiet background hum of his ‘bird’s ever-running machinery registered again.  A glance at the monitor readings brought his attention back to the dehydration caution, and John checked to see who was near the kitchen.  Virgil, no doubt, would be staying with Scott for a little while yet, but there was no harm in sending someone else up with some electrolyte drinks for when Scott finally woke.

Well, no harm as long as he made it perfectly clear to the rest of the family that Scott was getting some long overdue and well-deserved rest, and anyone who disturbed him would find out exactly how creative John could get with technology.

[tunglo]

Another day, another low budget made for TV movie from Mark Hamill’s back catalogue... Delancey Street: The Crisis Within. I really didn’t know what to make of this one to be honest, I feel like I either missed a lot of subtext or just don’t know enough about 70s America to get what was going on.

It’s based on the real life Delancey Street Foundation which is a halfway house / self-help organisation that gets ex-convicts, addicts, etc, back on their feet. The film follows three stories: Little Suzie Franklin whose mum’s out of the picture and dad is serving 10-30 years. She’s a genius who could go far if only the headteacher of the local posh private girls’ school would give her a chance. Then there’s Otis James who’s turned his life around and is going to open a restaurant - Funky Leroy’s - with his gf who is due out of prison any day now. If only she can stay clean...

Then there’s Philip Donaldson (Mark Hamill), a 17 year old staying there to get help with controlling his hyperkinesis. Today that would be severe ADHD but it seems to have been a broader diagnosis in ‘75 so, well, who knows. The people in charge all talk like he’s at his last chance to make something of his life. We’re told that he’s been hospitalised for it in the past, and one of the other characters describes him as a ‘basket case’. Another says they shouldn’t make allowances for him just because he has some rich kid disease nobody can even pronounce. 

Anyway, his roommate can’t put up with him any longer so he’s matched with Robert ‘Bob’ Holtzman, a just released convict who’s spent 36 years in San Quentin for car theft and then murdering a fellow inmate in self-defence. It’s 1975 so obviously this seems like a great idea. Because Bob is the strong silent type but he kind of takes Phil under his wing. He tells Phil everyone gets scared sometimes - himself included, lets Phil inundate him with dumb questions, and even promises they’ll plant some birds of paradise together even though Phil ‘can’t think very good’ when he gets stressed and has come to believe he can’t do anything that requires patience. 

Whatever, when we next see them Phil is practising introducing Bob to his parents. They turn out to be super rich and fancy and horrified their son is associating with such a character. This was where I realised I was maybe missing some serious cues because the meeting is hella tense, and I figured at first Phil’s mum was actually trying to come onto Bob the vibe was so weird. But it turns out she’s actually quizzing him about his lonely time in San Quentin because she thinks he must be in a gay relationship with Phil, on the grounds that there’s no other reason a man older than his father would want to be friends with him.

Up to this point I was very much viewing their relationship in the stock trope of ‘messed up kid gets much needed stable (if inappropriate) adult influence who’ll occasionally grunt in response to their inane rambling’. Even rewatching their scenes I’m still not sure if it’s meant to be viewed as all innocent or if 1975 US telly standards just required that gay flirting be that subtle. (It was shown on NBC in the 8pm slot back in 1975, but I don’t know enough about US media history for that to help me make a judgement call. For a prison-y comparison, on the BBC, Porridge went out at 8:30pm and Lukewarm got to write his boyfriend a love letter before he visited...)

So, yeah, the dinner ends in disaster with Phil’s mum asking Phil straight out if Bob’s a homosexual and that’s why he wants to be Phil’s friend. Phil proceeds to completely and utterly lose his shit. He smashes up a mirror, tries to hit his mum, scuffles with his dad, and runs off. Then, an hour or so later, breaks back into his parents’ house, steals his dad’s rifle, then sets himself up in sniper position at the top of a tower.

Bob has to go up there and talk him down before police take a shot at him. Phil’s a wreck, clinging to the gun, and asks ‘do you understand - do you at least understand what I’m doing?’ Bob surely speaks for all of us when he answers ‘no’. So Phil comes back with ‘No!? How can you say you’re my friend? How can you say you care about what happens to me, you don’t even understand.’

I had no idea what Phil thought he was doing at this point, so I sympathised with Bob’s less than stellar response: ‘Philip, I don’t know why you and me are friends. Out of all the people there, all the people that have been in the joint like me in Quentin, I don’t why, I don’t understand it. But I don’t think it makes any difference. I don’t even understand why I’m here. But I don’t think that matters either.’

Phil says ‘It should. If you’re gonna die you should at least know why’.

Bob: ‘What for? You don’t.’

Phil: ‘I know!’

Bob: ‘No, you don’t. I’ve seen too many people die. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I’m here. ‘Cos you don’t know.’

I am still mystified tbh. Anyway, Phil starts crying his eyes out and Bob moves towards him. Then it cuts to outside where police snipers are in position for a tense few moments. Then we see the gun being dropped from the window and Bob hugging a sobbing Phil.

End of story.

The vid quality sucked - and had a centre stamp - but I giffed it anyway because that’s how I roll...

[jamiiviper]

The Jamil Essay

this is a reupload of a post i made a couple of weeks ago - previously it was an external link to a google doc, so it never showed up in any of the twst tags, but i worked so hard on this and i would really love it if more people read it, so i’m reuploading directly to tumblr.

to put it simply, this is a 3.7k word character analysis purely about jamil. and even with a word count like that i wasn’t quite able to cover everything i wanted to say, so who knows, maybe there’ll be a part 2 one day. i’ve also decided i do want to write a kalim version, so i’ll probably start working on that sometime soon! stay tuned!

trigger warnings: mentions of child abuse

jamil is the vice dorm leader of scarabia, who’s been kalim’s caretaker practically since birth. he puts on a facade of not standing out, preferring to remain completely average, and plans his life around kalim’s antics. as we learned in chapter 4, however, his true feelings are that he bears a lot of resentment towards kalim, and that he wants to stand out - he just wasn’t allowed to, as he can never surpass kalim.

in this essay i want to cover not just my personal interpretation of jamil, but also some common misconceptions that people tend to have about him. twitter doesn’t have this problem as much, but with tumblr i’ve found that there are very few jamil stans, especially in the theory and writing communities - meaning it’s quite common for people to misunderstand his character. in the fandom as a whole, it’s common for people to only acknowledge him insofar as “gay for kalim”. 

firstly, jamil’s character development in the main story - i would say he’s arguably the best-developed character in twst, since yana now has enough chapters available to flesh out characters after their main story arc ended. jamil holds very deep-seated resentment against kalim, to the point that he plotted to betray him for probably several years. he plotted to have kalim not just thrown out of nrc, but thoroughly ruin his reputation in the process. after his overblot, those feelings did not magically vanish - far from it. i think earlier twst chapters suffered from arcs being wrapped up a little too neatly post-overblot, but pomefiore’s arc has already proved itself to be the exception and thoroughly covers not just jamil’s continued dislike for kalim, but also the wider consequences for what he did.

since the twst school year begins in september, we know jamil is about 9 months older than kalim. from literally the day kalim was born, jamil’s life has been dedicated to kalim. possibly since the day jamil was born, and he was always fated to be kalim’s caretaker. it may even have been the reason he was born at all. either way, it’s not like he remembers those 9 months. all jamil has ever known is that his sole purpose must be to serve kalim. he must not have desires of his own, he must not do anything for himself - from childhood he was expected to be ready to give up his life for kalim at a moment’s notice. he can’t be good at anything - kalim must always be better (i’ll cover this in more depth in a later paragraph, this philosophy is key to his character). his own parents drilled this into him, even going to the extent of hitting him if he didn’t comply. it seems he has a normal relationship with his family despite this - he bickers with his sister like regular siblings, and pre-overblot he indicated that his desire to be free from servitude wasn’t just about him, he wanted to free his family. nonetheless, the psychological damage his childhood caused him is severe. is it any wonder his unique magic is mind control, when he’s never had an ounce of control over his own life?

moving onto his early teen years, we know both jamil and kalim were severely poisoned at one point, both falling into comas for around two weeks. although we don’t have a timeframe for jamil’s coma, we know kalim’s was when they were around 13 years old. if jamil’s was around this age too - probably a short while afterwards - i think it’s plain to see why jamil’s resentment began to build. he’d have been around the age where he first started to question why his life has to revolve around kalim. why should he be expected to die for someone he doesn’t even like, who’s spoiled and doesn’t realise how much jamil does for him? kalim takes everything for granted: status, friendships, freedom, and jamil is meanwhile left in the shadows with nothing. then one day kalim gets poisoned so badly he falls into a coma - how much do you want to bet jamil was blamed for that, at the age of 13? after that he’s expected to taste-test anything kalim eats beforehand, and eventually starts making all his meals for him because the risk of poison is so high otherwise. then one day he slips up, or it’s an undetectable poison, and jamil is the one to fall into a coma. is anyone blamed for that? does anyone pity jamil outside of his immediate family + kalim? no, probably not. after all, he’s just doing his duty, right? it’s truly… no wonder jamil’s resentment became so intense. he finally has proof that his life truly does not matter. although kalim certainly cares about him, he doesn’t understand jamil’s position. he sees jamil as a friend, an equal; jamil knows this can never be the case, and he also knows kalim is too privileged to ever hope to understand. 

fast forward on a couple of years to jamil receiving his nrc acceptance letter. he thinks that finally, finally he’s going to be free. four years of freedom - and who knows, maybe after that he can be free forever! he can finally excel at his classes and be his true self, without fear of upstaging kalim! 

and then kalim gets accepted a month late. for no reason other than his surname. 

and then kalim gets sorted into his dorm.

it’s a miracle he didn’t just overblot on the spot - but that’s his nature as a scarabia student. careful foresight and planning. this moment was, undoubtedly, the moment he started planning his betrayal. he had his one month of freedom ripped away, just like that. 

oh, don’t forget the fact that not long after, kalim was made dorm leader not because he notably embodies scarabia values at all, but because of nepotism. (side note: most scarabia stans agree kalim does actually reflect scarabia values, just not as obviously as jamil does, but either way jamil himself wouldn’t see it this way. this is a jamil essay so i won’t go in depth about this unless asked to!)

under kalim’s watch, scarabia - known for its intelligence and cunning - is turned into “the party dorm”. this seems to be the fandom’s perception of them too - i mean, just ask any non-scarabia stan what goes on in scarabia, that’s probably the answer they’ll give you. jamil would have probably loved the original scarabia; although we don’t know much about it, we know scarabia students are on a par with octavinelle when it comes to intelligence (paralleling azul’s constant interest in jamil). yet by winter break, scarabia is doing so badly in those same exams that they didn’t even place in the rankings…? without meaning to, kalim clearly harmed scarabia. instead of getting chance to study magic and show off, jamil is now essentially an unpaid, full-time party planner by the time his second year starts.

a few months later, winter break finally arrives, and jamil executes his plan to dethrone kalim. i may have just spent the last two pages defending jamil’s grudge, but his actions themselves are still indefensible. there’s evidence to suggest kalim knew what was occurring on some level - refusing to answer jade’s question about who was hypnotising him proved that 1) he probably had some idea deep down that jamil was betraying him 2) he doesn’t want jamil to get in trouble for it. nonetheless, this does not make what jamil did okay in the slightest, even if kalim allowed it to happen. jamil is, undoubtedly, the bad guy in this situation, no matter how sympathetic his childhood makes you feel. i could go into detail about why kalim acted the way he did, but again, this is jamil-focused.

i’ll skip talking about his overblot, because i covered his hatred for kalim in a lot of depth already and i want to talk about the general aspects of his personality like his desire for praise later on. so moving onto the end of chapter 4, we see jamil’s true self: a snarky, heavily opinionated boy who honestly just wants to be free to be himself.

but just like his freedom, that side of jamil once again only lasts for a brief moment. jamil almost loses everything after his overblot. practically every scarabia student hates him and wants him thrown out of the dorm - even kalim, his sole defender, can’t call him a good person. he’s a traitor. he says he trusts the scarabia students to work out that it’s better for them if he stays, but that day won’t come any time soon, and until then he’s keeping his distance from them all, because their hatred is that strong. if azul truly had been streaming to more people than just jade, his life would have been ruined beyond repair. so what does jamil do? he goes back to serving kalim. as a scarabia student, his foresight is good enough that he knows the option he hates the most is the only one that’ll be good for him in the end. for jamil, being himself is nothing short of a death sentence.

now i’ve talked for far too long about the timeline of his character arc, i can finally get to the good stuff: jamil’s personality, and how it’s changed throughout the stories we’ve seen so far.

the first thing that springs to mind when you think of jamil, other than “snake”, is probably “tired”. or “he’s going to snap”. something along those lines. which... yes, we know he is. he did snap. after chapter 4, this doesn’t seem to have changed too much, but i do get the impression that he’s somewhat less stressed out by kalim. his resentment has dissipated, for the most part (he does still openly insult him, though), so while he does grumble at kalim there’s no suppressed fury behind it. what replaced that fury?

guilt.

in 5-10, jamil tells azul that he intends to continue to obediently follow kalim around in order to restore his reputation, both inside and outside of scarabia. this does of course make him sound pretty selfish (as per usual), and in classic jamil fashion he doesn’t let his true emotions show, so it’s easy to take this at face value and assume he just doesn’t really care. i think in this case, we need to look more at his actions that we see throughout chapter 5. namely, the way it’s being emphasised how he’s silently watching kalim from afar - something he’s always done, yes, but yana seems to be really making a point of it in chapter 5. it’s not just kalim he’s distancing himself from, either. he’s staying away from the rest of the scarabia students too, as mentioned earlier. he never had any friends at all to rely on, even before his overblot. so by doing this, he’s effectively completely isolating himself. he clearly has a lot of thoughts about everything that he’s not sharing with anyone - just listen to the way he sighs at the end of the flashback in 5-10, how annoyed and frustrated he seems. if jamil was telling the truth about just wanting to restore his reputation, he’d probably appreciate kalim’s efforts, even if he dislikes kalim himself. he shouldn’t be upset by kalim persuading the scarabia students to give him another chance. not if he truly just wants to get back to normal. i think on some level, jamil feels incredibly guilty over his actions. he might not have even admitted to himself yet that he feels this way, and by saying things like “i just want to restore my reputation” he’s just trying to convince himself. after all, that’s something he has a history of doing.

ever since jamil’s first introduction, we’ve known jamil lives his life by the philosophy of “not standing out is the best way to succeed”. he hates standing out or receiving any kind of positive attention at all, because he thinks that it’ll only attract trouble. or so we thought, because as we learned from his overblot, jamil desperately wants to stand out. he’s powerful and intelligent, and he wants people to acknowledge that. he wants the praise and recognition he knows he deserves. this means that whenever he said he didn’t want to stand out, he was lying through his teeth - he probably constantly tried and failed to convince himself of this throughout his childhood. during his lab SR story, he even repeats it to himself in his thoughts, like a mantra - “I want to avoid standing out. I can’t be satisfied with this. I cannot be too good, nor fall behind, and neither should I get satisfactory grades or fail. This is the best shortcut to success.”. much like his feelings of guilt, jamil refused to acknowledge how much he truly wanted to show off, even in his own thoughts. he is awful at being honest to himself.

post-ch5, we find out that despite everything, jamil does still hold this philosophy, to some extent. he of course shows off his singing and dancing skills enough to be chosen as a main vocalist, and he says he wants to make a name for himself and show various people just how talented he truly is: kalim, his family, the asims and MC, to name a few. yet in the chapter before that, when kalim compliments his singing and dancing, he’s like “i don’t really want to stand out, but…”. which is honestly a little confusing at first because he does want to. i’d probably interpret it as something along the lines of he wants to show off to the people he cares about, but he still wants to keep his head down in general. so i think that to some extent, maybe he actually has internalised that philosophy now. the one time he truly expressed his desire to stand out, it ended in catastrophe for him. he has this tiny seed of doubt within him now, telling him his parents were right all along. but... he’s working past it, and applying himself as and when he’s comfortable doing so.

going back to him being bad at being honest, jamil’s a pretty big tsundere. there’s one person he does regularly receive praise from: kalim. yet despite desperately wanting to be praised, he often gets annoyed at kalim and tells him something like “this isn’t about me right now” or “what does that have to do with anything?”. plus when the praise is coming from kalim, it’s often in the context of kalim praising him to other people - as a servant, he can’t be seen accepting all these compliments, right? he can never be better than kalim. so he has to reject kalim’s praise. when it’s just the two of them alone, though, is when jamil gets embarrassed to the point he has to hide his blush under his hood. given his childhood, chances are that he doesn’t really know how to process being praised. he knows he wants people’s approval, but when he actually gets it, he just short-circuits. it was the same at his birthday celebration; although he wants to be the centre of attention, when it actually happens, he gets all embarrassed and tsun. i was trying not to let my own personal feelings spill in this but oh my god he’s so cute i can’t

next... this isn’t really linked to any previous topic, but i want to talk about jamil’s cooking! jamil cooks all of kalim’s meals, and regularly cooks entire feasts for kalim’s parties, too (as well as being in charge of getting any animals kalim wants to show off, decorating the dorm, making sure everything runs smoothly… you get the idea). his cooking is very good, and he has a lot of technical knowledge about cooking too - azul, whose parents run a restaurant, didn’t know about emulsification, but jamil was able to explain it to him. despite being so good, though, according to his dorm SSR homescreen lines he doesn’t actually like cooking very much. he says the fact that he cooks so much is “just how things turned out”. of course, he could just be being a tsun, but i do feel like he’s being honest with this - what reason does he have to seriously enjoy something he was forced into doing his entire life? However there is evidence that he might enjoy it after all; he’s particularly good at alchemy because of his cooking knowledge, and according to magical archives he’s completely neutral in motivation for both flying and history lessons, but has slightly higher motivation levels for alchemy, indicating that he can’t stop himself from putting a little bit extra effort into that class. i think it can be interpreted either way with the canon info we have currently, but regardless i would not say he’s the cooking fanatic people often depict him as. 

also, when jamil cooks, although his cooking is good, visually it’s usually very boring, to the point he and his sister would bicker over it. he has the technical skills to cook good food, but no idea how to present it. similarly, in his fairy gala SR he was told that although he perfectly memorised the dance, it was boring to watch - it looked like he was just executing the routine without any passion behind it. jamil is so emotionally repressed that he has no idea how to express his individuality. even in his bedroom, the only truly personal items he owns are a first aid kit (related to his servant position, not him as a human being) and a stereo + headphones set for dancing. he doesn’t have any other hobbies or interests - he doesn’t even know what people his age do for fun, because he’s never been allowed to think about such things. 

dancing is all jamil has that’s not directly related to serving kalim, really - but even that ties into his servant status. although he genuinely enjoys it nowadays and dances by himself for fun, he only picked it up as a hobby because kalim wanted to go to dance practice, and of course jamil had to accompany him. when his flashback after his overblot talks about him deliberately losing to kalim, the story focuses specifically on a dancing competition. which is why it’s honestly so important to jamil’s character that chapter 5 focuses on a singing and dancing competition. jamil finally has the chance not just to show off his skills in general, but his skills at the one thing he’s been allowed to love throughout his life. the one thing where losing to kalim at it hurt so much that it was such a prominent memory for him. when jamil was chosen as a main vocalist, he instinctively tries to say kalim would be better suited for the position, but stops himself and accepts it. it clearly means so much to him that he was chosen for this.

okay i started to scare people with how long this was getting when it was only 50% finished, i think if i write anymore people will actually be concerned for my health so i’ll leave it here. if you read all of this, thank you so much for putting up with my anime boy brainrot for over six full pages! i really.. really like jamil. again, i most certainly do not think his actions should be defended, but god if they’re not fascinating to read about. and i hope i covered the other sides to him well enough, the things that you’d never ordinarily pick up on because so few people talk about him outside of him and kalim as a pair (both platonic scarabia + romantic jamikali, i mean). he has so much depth to him that people don’t see and god i could easily have gone on for another few pages if i wasn’t forcing myself to stop. but please please talk to me if you want to hear more...

yana has treated him so well, jamil stans get too much food if anything but i’m absolutely thriving off it as you can see! thank you for allowing him to exist, yana-sensei!

having said that, i couldn’t stop myself from adding some extra facts about him below. please enjoy.

some fun jamil facts for your soul:

his sister used to bake him cookies on his birthday - specifically, these!

when jamil and kalim went to eat at the cafeteria with ruggie and leona, leona took one look at jamil and went “you look like you’d kill kalim in his sleep”

sebek and jamil find each other’s positions enviable. sebek wishes he could have been by malleus’ side from birth as jamil was with kalim, and jamil just… wishes he served someone he respected as deeply as sebek respects malleus (but he does think sebek is too enthusiastic)

jamil hates surprises with a burning passion, and despite being with kalim for 17 years is still not used to them. for his previous birthday, kalim held a huge surprise party, and i think he still hasn’t recovered from the shock

i think a lot of people already know that in his birthday SSR story he said he wanted a parrot after graduation so he could teach it to call him master, but it goes a bit further than that? it was actually first mentioned during his lesson chats, when kalim gets a parrot. jamil has to research how to care for it, and ended up wanting one of his own afterwards (but got too tsundere to admit it at the time).

also, he heard that the sorcerer of the sands’ parrot (iago) could speak as fluently as a human, and he got excited and watched a bunch of parrot videos on magicam, but was of course disappointed to find out that this was not the case.

he frequently uses flattery to try and get his way, like when he attempts to flatter vil during his SSR story - unfortunately he misjudged vil, as vil’s actually the type of person who hates meaningless flattery. because he does this so frequently, when he genuinely does give compliments people don’t always believe him.

according to the halloween event, jamil is surprisingly environmentally conscious, and insists on holding a sustainable halloween theme. after organising so many parties and seeing the waste they probably produce, i think there’s no wonder he’s so concerned about it.

[shreddedleopard]

Twelve-million more reasons Historia and Levi are part of the Endgame. With Pictures.

You can read the first post I made on this here:

10 reasons it would make narrative sense for Levi and Historia’s character arcs to end together.

(This is the mega-evolved version.)

Okay, I’m going to put this out there now, and before you judge me, please just read the posts. You don’t have to agree. This is just an idea. But it makes a stupid amount of sense, at least to me. So here's your fair warning (and now I'm being bold): If you don’t want to potentially be spoiled, Do Not Read On.

Here’s the Theory:

Historia Reiss will give birth to a half-Ackerman child, and together with Levi, from the ashes and ruins of the world Eren destroyed, they will welcome the dawn of a new age for humanity, where Ymir’s curse and the power of the Titans is extinct.

I know. I sound like some crazy, Rivahisu nut. Granted, I am, but I’m not mad enough to make a claim like this without a shit-ton of evidence, because it’s such a damn twist it feels like it can’t be true. But just humour me.

Here’s the theory, then we’ll look at why it makes sense and how it might have been foreshadowed. Please note: I have less clue how this will tie in to Eremika endgame, so I haven’t mentioned this as much, but obviously that will be the other very important side of this coin.

10 months ago (In Japan, full term pregnancy is counted as 10 months), at the banquet celebrating completion of the new railroad, Levi and Historia, having had 3 and a bit years to bond over their shared experiences and become close, may have gotten carried away together and shared one night of being a bit more than friends. She’s well into her 18th year at this point, just to clear that up. This resulted in Historia getting pregnant. Okay just stay with me; I know. I know. I sound crazy. But hear me out. So this pregnancy, contrary to the belief of the MPs and rest of the damn world, was the complete opposite of planned. Historia tells Levi, and Levi immediately panics. Because, to steal Kenny’s famous line, Levi thinks to himself ‘I can’t be some kid’s dad.’

 Levi does what he always does best, and shuts down into business mode, telling Historia she will need to cover it up somehow. Historia does as he asks, probably reluctantly, because she really has developed very deep feelings for him during the timeskip, and finds some farm hand to take the blame, likely saying she made a silly mistake with some random and the father doesn’t want anything to do with the child, and so she needs a father for the child not to be illegitimate. Which is her worst nightmare, because of course, that’s what she was. Levi watches the exchange hidden in that famous hood, feeling very conflicted, because although he cares about her, he thinks it best if no one knows that it was him that got the Queen pregnant, and of course, he’s duty bound, with a vow to fulfil, so he has no time to be worrying about a family. (Silly Levi!) 

How ironic this conversation would be if this theory were true. Remember, Historia was completely willing to eat Zeke if needed. Instead, she got pregnant, unplanned, nothing to do with any plot or selfish wishes, just the result of a spontaneous act of love by two people who’ve grown to care for one another a lot. ANYWAY.

Because we know Levi actually has a good heart, he feels immensely guilty for all of this; he's just a product of his upbringing and thinks he doesn’t know the first thing about families, so it's better for all involved if he not be. See where this is going? The old cursed history repeating? Making the same mistakes as our parents? Plus, Levi is bound by his duty. He is incredibly important to the military still, and he cannot just abandon this for any of his own selfish wishes. He’s supposed to be the one to vanquish the beast titan. 

Cue ten months of Historia looking hella depressed and hopeless, and Levi being even more of an asshole than usual to everyone, and not really wanting to say too much at all, as well as making some terrible workplace decisions (lol) poor boy be distracted.

Look at his face 😭

Yes Levi. A month. Which means Historia is now due and you’re still stuck with beardy, without a solution and pretty soon no reason for the MPs not to turn the mother of your child into a Titan.

That’s what that face is. I thought he looked a bit weird first time I read these panels 🤔 He didn’t know about the wine. We see that later. Anyway, I keep getting distracted, stop. I’ll come back to this.

But fear not; Levi will have a choice to make. 

So this is where it gets a bit more iffy for me, because I'm not sure how it would work, so this could be a way off, BUT. I believe it will come to light that the combination of Royal and Ackerman genes will somehow cancel out a person’s ability to turn into a titan and connection through paths, thus making them truly ‘free.’

The founding titan has the ability to change Eldian physiology, according to what Zeke learned from professor Xavier. 

EDIT: Okay so here’s where I’ve had to tweak this a bit in light of there latest chapter. So we just had Zeke in PATHS. With none other than our second resident genius, and as proclaimed by Eren, the saviour of humanity: Armin. What do our boys have a conversation about? Reproduction and the importance of the small moments in life - it’s these little moments which matter, regardless of the desire or need to recreate. Interesting how both the leaf and baseball link back to what their ideas of ‘family’ became. If Historia and Levi were to be in the same scenario in PATHS, what would their items be? What truly means family to them both? 

Perhaps Armin and Zeke realise what is needed to lift the curse of the titans - maybe a blueprint for genes which can cancel out the connection to PATHS and the founder? If only they had a child with a new type of Royal-Ackerman DNA which might fit the bill ... 

Here’s Levi’s moment. He, with Historia, has created such a child - completely by accident, because of one of those ‘moments’ that both Armin and Zeke mention - moments that are simply just about enjoying what you have with no sense of how it might relate to anything bigger - a real rarity for both of them, considering their roles and constantly being asked to think about the good of humanity as a whole. What a beautiful irony, that in the moment they chose to be selfish and, to use freckled Ymir’s own words, really live for themselves, they set a chain reaction in motion that would ultimately save humanity. 

Where does this leave Eren and Mikasa? Good question. I believe Eren will die once the curse is removed, because tragically he is the character that has been forced to choose humanity over his own personal relationships. As Isayama has said before, Eren is a victim of the story. Mikasa will be the last thing he sees, hence the original dream at the start of the manga, where he wakes up crying. Something like this. But probably a lot better. Yeah.

Out of the ashes of the old world, a new one will be built, but through Historia’s kindness and love, and Levi’s guilt and understanding of what was sacrificed in the past, society will not repeat the same mistakes. The final panel could be Jean holding his child, perhaps with Mikasa, if she ever manages to get over losing Eren. That would be vague enough so that Isayama was able to show it to us already without spoiling much. Or maybe Jean’s dead and it’s not him at all. I don’t know. 😭

Right. Okay. So now you’re going, sweet story, but uh, there’s no way Levi could be the father. He’s so much older. Isayama wouldn't write a moment of romance like that. Not with him and Historia. YOU’RE JUST CRAZY.

Well this is where it get’s interesting. LET ME SHOW YOU. It’s foreshadowed literally everywhere. Right under our noses.

There is so much symbolism.

Dedicate your heart to what? has been Levi’s question recently. What are they all fighting for? What is he fighting for? How will he give meaning to his dead comrades sacrifices? Is killing Zeke really the extent of it? Is vengeance the true meaning of their sacrifices? Or is it something a lot more hopeful?

The answer is shown to us in the opening credits. And the ending credits. Several times. 

Levi says so himself - he keeps messing fulfilling the vow up - why? Why is he so worried about killing Zeke? 

Eren has the same questions to consider. Which PATH is the right one to take - revenge and violence with the rumbling, or love ... with Mikasa. We are literally shown what their choices will be in two virtually identically designed panels, which I’ll show you. Tragically, Eren’s choice is taken from him. He is a victim to the story - he must chose the path that saves humanity. Levi and Eren have been bound together through the theme of choices, and taking the ones which leave you with the least regrets, throughout this entire manga.

The upcoming anime episodes literally plot out the timeline of Levi and Historia’s changing attitude to one another, and then Historia’s pregnancy, it’s just so cleverly subtle. Isayama even tells us when/ during what event her child was probably conceived by just dropping dates in from other, seemingly unrelated plot lines.

Zeke gives pointed comments to Levi constantly - every other line of his is either a different jab at Levi about Historia’s pregnancy, a veiled question, or a reminder that he’s under the pressure of a 10 month time limit to do something about him, or Historia will have to eat him once she’s given birth. We start to see Levi unravel because of this, and make mistakes over and over.

It’s in official art. It’s in the soundtrack. Its in music videos. There’s interviews from Isayama that, when read in light of these ideas, suddenly take on a whole new meaning.

Isayama even trolls us. He’s laughing in our faces, the madman. Like, gotchu 🤣 suckers. While we’re all on Reddit and Twitter like, ‘Levi’s character has become so stagnated! He’s making such poor choices or not giving anything to the plot at all. All that’s left for him now is to give up and die! Be at peace, your story is over.’ OOF. Or, ‘Historia has just been forgotten! She’s become such a pointless character. Isayama just got bored with her and sidelined her.’

I’m going to try and write stuff up in the rough categories below, but these might change. I’ll link them when I’m done, and then pin this post. I’m a bit of a rambler so heads up - this may take a while 😅

There’s also a ton of people I have to mention who have contributed to this - I didn’t spot it by myself. I’ll tag them in the finished post too.

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 1

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 2

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 3

Ackerman-Royal Bloodline and Levi’s Choice Pt. 1

Levi’s Choice Pt. 2

Suns, Moons and Songs

Akatsuki No Requiem - Right theory, Wrong guy

The Farmer and The Cattle Farming Goddess, or WHAT’S IN A NAME.

Mistakes of our parents and breaking the cycle

Memories from the future & Levi’s Guilt

Watch this space. And hold on to your pants. If I’m right, I’m getting very drunk.

[angstyaches]

first of all, hi! found you today and i’m obsessed! for a christmas or general drabble, what about a character just absolutely overwhelmed by the holiday snafu? i’m imagining charlie, but whoever you think it most fits - on top of an already anxious tummy & mind, the lights are too bright, the chatter too loud, it’s too crowded, it’s too hot and too much. cue overstimulation, a sick belly, and lots of sweet, grounding comfort (of ofc getting whisked out of there). tysm for your stories! 💖

I would have LOVED to write this for Charlie, but Shayne is so much more likely to react like this. And I pushed it to New Year’s, since I ran out of time for the Christmas drabbles. Thank you so much for the adorable prompt 🖤

CW: anxiety, alcohol mention, self-deprecating thoughts, mention of homophobia, overwhelmed character, emeto

_

“Shayne?”

My relatives are noisy, but they’re sweet, for the most part, Charlie had said.

“Hey, Shayne?”

I haven’t even come out to them, so they’re probably not gonna ask if you’re my – well, they’re not gonna ask anything like that, Charlie had said, before getting embarrassed and looking away.

A gentle hand touched Shayne’s arm, making him jump on the spot. Shayne blinked at it, and then at Charlie. His blue eyes were shiny with concern.

The look made Shayne’s stomach feel funny; it was like a hundred weights had just been released from under his ribs, and they were all dropping through his belly at the same time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised this feeling had been lingering for a while, waiting for the right moment to make him feel like the ground was swaying beneath him.

Charlie nodded towards Trevor, who was standing just in front of them. “What do you want to drink?”

Gathering the will with some effort, Shayne looked up at Trevor, who was waiting patiently with a hand over his wallet. Shit. How long had he been spaced out for?

“Sorry, um – can I just get some water, please?”

“’Course,” Trevor nodded. “And a Fanta and rum, Charlie?”

“Yep! Thanks, Dad. We’ll grab a table.”

Shayne pressed a hand to his stomach as he followed Charlie across the room, despairing quietly at the fact that the sinking feeling wasn’t going away. His legs felt a little shaky too, and he couldn’t wait to sit down and try to calm himself.

They passed so many tables – all complete with piles of paper coasters and little “no smoking” plaques – that Shayne couldn’t figure out what Charlie’s criteria could possibly include. The place was empty for now, but soon it would fill up with the members of Charlie’s family – from Trevor’s side, Ingrid’s side, and Trevor’s ex-wife’s side. Shayne couldn’t picture how many people would be there, but there was seating for at least sixty.

Finally, Charlie located a suitable table, and they both sat close to the wall, on the cushioned bench.

Charlie shrugged off his coat, which was light denim on the outside and white fake fur on the inside. There was an artificial heat in the hired function room, but Shayne didn’t want to relinquish the layer of protection that was his own jacket; it was just synthetic leather, but he knew he’d feel even more anxious if he took it off.

What he wanted was to put his head down on the table and wait for the awful feeling in his stomach to pass, but the thought of drawing attention to himself, or making Charlie worry about him, kept him from doing so.

He also resisted the urge to try and work the tension out of his body by cracking his jaw, and settled for slinking a little lower in his seat and putting his hands in his pockets. Charlie’s silence was freaking him out a bit; Shayne wondered if he was dwelling on their earlier conversation as much as he was. Maybe it was just him, but it felt like everything they’d never discussed was hanging around them like a heavy cloud.

His stomach did a little flip as he worked himself up to ask; “You okay?”

Charlie’s gaze diverted across the room, and a sick-looking grimace crossed his face. “I was better about ten seconds ago. My great-aunt Ursula just got rolled in.”

Shayne hesitantly turned his head. At the entrance to the function room, an old lady in a wheelchair was, indeed, being pushed through the pub, surrounded by a group of people ranging from early twenties to mid-fifties.

“Wildly homophobic,” Charlie sighed. There was a hint of resigned humour in his voice, but the statement still made Shayne’s stomach turn over again.

Several groups seemed to have arrived at the same time and were still greeting each other; some were kissing one another on the cheek and hugging, and every one of them was emitting a noise of some kind. A few had small children pulling at their legs, while the older children were glued to phones.

“You wanna meet everyone in one go? Get it over and done with?” Charlie asked. “Baptism of fire?”

Shayne’s stomach dropped so hard that he felt a slight retch pull at the back of his throat. He couldn’t, in that moment, think of anything he wanted to do less, but he couldn’t exactly voice that to Charlie. In the same way, he couldn’t have turned down the invitation to the party, not while he was the Waters’ guest. It seemed he couldn’t do anything without coming across as cold and rude and grumpy and...;

“Or you can stay and guard our table,” Charlie half-laughed.

“Would that be okay?” Shayne knew it was the wrong answer, and he gave it anyway.

“Sure, don’t worry about it.” Charlie slid off the bench and circled around to the front of the table. “I’ll be back in a few. Dad should be over with the drinks soon, too.”

Shayne sank a little lower on the bench as he watched Charlie go. He wanted Charlie to glance back at him on the way, but he didn’t, and anyway, he was being such an asshole he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t even deserve a glance. Probably didn’t deserve the water he’d asked for, or the warm food Ingrid had served up before they’d all left for the party.

Looking like the moodiest, most out-of-place person in a room that suddenly held about forty, Shayne wished he could be in any mindset but the one he was currently in.

Unfortunately, mindsets didn’t quite work like that, and this one kept him on edge for the duration of the party. Although for Shayne, it was less of a party and more like a prolonged, torturous countdown to the new year. He hung out with Charlie when he could, but as the night wore on, he saw less and less of him. Between brief introductions to people whose names went right over his head, and short encounters with energetic little kids who had clearly been given too many fizzy drinks, Shayne was positive that he’d met more people in those few hours than he had in the past entire year of his life.

He was grateful that Charlie didn’t seem to expect him to hang around anyone for too long, but he was also disappointed in himself for taking every escape that was offered to him. Charlie was so bright and happy and social, and his family all seemed to adore him so much; meanwhile, Shayne was his weird friend wearing all black and slinking off to the corner at every opportunity.

He also let Charlie drag him out to dance a couple of times, but it was nothing like the little dancing sessions Felix sometimes held at the townhouse; Shayne could barely bring himself to dance in private, let alone here, in front of so many strangers. In front of Charlie.

Feeling out of place was bad enough, but even worse than that was that his belly had stopped dropping, and had started to hurt quite a lot. The very last thing he wanted was to end up locked in the bathroom throwing up, but between meeting so many people and navigating the now darkened, disco-light-laden function room, it was getting hard to control the nausea. A DJ had set up in the room a few hours ahead of the midnight countdown, and the music was so, so loud. Shayne couldn’t understand why it needed to be so fucking loud –

“Got you a Sprite!”

He looked up from the table to see a blue light cast over Ingrid’s face as she sat in a chair opposite him.

“I’ll get you something stronger, if you want it!” she yelled over the music, leaning over the table a little. “I’m the designated driver, but I’m happy to drink vicariously through you.”

Shayne tried for an amused hum and shook his head as he took the glass of sparkling clear liquid from her. “I’m good, thank you.”

“It’s shit, isn’t it? The party.” Ingrid rolled her eyes at herself as soon as the words were out. “I can’t wait to get out of here, once the countdown is done. If we can both hang in there until then, we’ll grab Charlie and make our escape. How’s that sound?”

Shayne nodded, sipping gratefully on the drink she’d brought him. Leaving right after midnight sounded wonderful. The cold bubbles settling in his stomach felt good, too, and so did knowing that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to leave.

As Ingrid flashed him a smile over her own glass, he wondered if this was the point where Charlie would tell his mother he was feeling sick, and sad, and overwhelmed. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to take him home, and let him stay there forever instead of sending him back to the Aldridges.

He was broken out of his thoughts when the woman at the next table, who was holding a baby, reached over and tapped Ingrid on the shoulder. Ingrid turned in her chair and exclaimed the woman’s name – which Shayne immediately forgot – and the two of them started chatting close to each other’s ears.

Shayne finished his drink and sat back in his seat. With nothing else to focus on, the music seemed to blare even harder from the speakers, drumming through his head like something was physically beating against either side of his skull. The heaving sounds seemed to rattle his insides too, and the lyrics he couldn’t quite make out hurtled dizzyingly through his head.

Suddenly, the DJ was speaking too, his voice booming through the microphone; as impossible as it seemed, his words were louder than the music itself.

“Alright, folks, we’ve got ninety seconds until midnight.”

Shayne looked up, instantly needing to close his eyes for a few seconds as coloured lights swung over the table – purple, then red, and then a sickly-bright yellow – before scattering across the small dancefloor area.

The handful of Charlie’s relatives who were dancing ranged from pre-teen cousins attempting to perform a routine in-sync, and aunts and uncles swaying over glasses of alcohol. Everyone else was standing by the bar or lingering near tables, leaning in and tucking hair behind their ears as they tried to have conversations over the music. They all started to gather a little more tightly now that the countdown was imminent, and the excitement in the room was almost electric.

Shayne didn’t feel excited. He felt like he wanted to cry.

Ingrid raised her eyebrows as he got to his feet and got out from behind the table. He paused and leaned back over to tell her;

“I’m going to find Charlie.”

“Alright, hon!” Ingrid winked and gave a little wave. “See you in the new year, eh?”

_

He found Charlie in the lobby, where some of the younger party guests were pulling at his legs and trying to tackle him to the ground. He had a girl of about six years old in his arms, balanced against his hip. Shayne wasn’t sure how Charlie’s relatives had so many children, or how Charlie seemed to have become a babysitter for the duration of the party.

“Hey,” Charlie grinned as he lowered the little girl to the ground, letting her tear away after her brother. Or cousin. Shayne didn’t have a good grasp on how all of these people were related. “Go find your mammy for the countdown, okay?”

The kids pushed at each other and laughed as they ran back towards the function room, shoes slapping hollowly on the carpeted floor. They didn’t even glance at Shayne as they rounded him, as though he was just a statue.

“Sorry, I was going to come and find you, but I completely lost track of the time,” Charlie laughed. He gave a deep sigh and his smile faltered. “You been doing okay?”

The hollow, sick feeling in his stomach made Shayne hesitate. Even here, where the air was a little cooler and everything was a little quieter, nothing was calming down in his head or in his belly.

Charlie’s face was falling, and he was coming closer. Shayne had to decide if he was going to lean in or pull back, and all of the possibilities of how each of these options would play out went hurtling through his head.

“I…”

Voices began chanting from the function room.

Ten, nine –

A sharp pull of some dark, twisting emotion in his tummy made him wince, and in a last-bid attempt to escape everything, to just disappear, to cease existing, he lifted his hands to his face and just covered his eyes.

Eight –

He didn’t disappear.

Instead, he felt Charlie embrace him gently, without wrapping his arms all the way around. He held him through seven, six, five –

“Charlie?” Shayne whispered, nausea and tearfulness causing his voice to come out sounding deep and slightly hoarse.

Four –

“I - I can’t.”

Three –

Charlie nodded. “Let’s go outside.”

Shayne was pretty sure he had never gripped Charlie’s hand as hard as he did now. He was definitely sure that he’d never wished harder that he could be someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get completely overwhelmed by a roomful of people who were literally just yelling out numbers.

Two –

Someone who wouldn’t have burst into tears by the time they got to the front entrance of the hotel, where glass doors opened out into a streetlight-hazed carpark. Where the chaos from inside seemed to fade away into nothingness, as though the party – as though New Year’s Eve itself – had suddenly been cancelled.

Charlie let out a small noise of confusion as Shayne’s hand slipped free of his. He let out a slightly louder noise as Shayne turned towards one of the prickly, waxy-leaved bushes and doubled over, coughing up water and Sprite and whatever he’d eaten of Ingrid’s casserole before they’d left home.

He cried harder the more he retched, and he began to choke on the sobs as the heaving stopped and the crying continued.

He was shivering and hugging himself by the time Charlie took him by the arm and guided him to the edge of the curb by the taxi pick-up point. Even after being sick, he still had that dreadful feeling, like he was falling from a hundred stories high. He buried his head under his arms as they sat down, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Shayne.” Charlie moved a little closer, so that their shoulders brushed slightly against one another. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

The sound of Charlie’s voice should have been soothing, but it only seemed to add guilt on top of everything bad he was already feeling.

“I promise, everything is fine,” Charlie whispered. His fingertips began to work their way through Shayne’s hair, searching for the warmth of the nape of his neck.

The touch was light, but made it a little easier to focus. Shayne managed to close his eyes without frowning.

“Everything’s fine,” Charlie said again, tracing tiny circles just above the collar of Shayne’s jacket. “Did - did you just start feeling sick all of a sudden?”

“Mmm, no.” Shayne shivered as Charlie stroked his neck, hating himself for enjoying something he didn’t deserve. “My stomach’s been feeling weird since we got here. Nervous.”

Charlie gave a light sigh. “It’s okay. A lot of people don’t do well with crowds and noise.”

“It’s not just that, though. I’m not –” The swirling emptiness was creeping up into Shayne’s chest now, and his arms and legs felt impossibly heavy. “I’m not… I’m not enough for you, Charlie.”

“For me?” Charlie chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Shayne’s shoulder. “Lovely, I – I think about this all the time. I always think that I’m never going to be strong enough, or brave enough, to be worthy of you.”

Shayne gulped back a sob and picked up his head, even though Charlie’s face was still hidden against his shoulder.

“That’s –” Shayne sniffed and blinked tears from his eyelashes. The sobs in his throat melted into something that felt like low, wobbly laughter. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Charlie was grinning when he lifted his face, tiny creases outlining the corners of his eyes. A light blush coloured his cheeks. “See what I mean?”

Shayne shrugged as he brushed tears away with his sleeves. His brain was firing all the wrong things in all the wrong directions. The epiphany wasn’t happening, and he felt that somehow, he was letting Charlie down yet again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I even made us miss the fucking countdown.”

“That’s okay. It’s not important.” Charlie shrugged, fingertips tracing down Shayne’s forearm before gliding into the palm of his hand. “We can have our own countdown, if you want.”

Shayne glanced away, at nothing in particular. “What, now?”

Charlie nodded. “From three, okay? Three.”

He looked at Charlie again, noticing how intensely he was watching him. He tightened his fingers around Charlie’s, brushing his thumb back and forth across a knuckle. “Two?”

Charlie’s eyes darted downwards before his lips parted. “One.”

“Happy New Year, Charlie.” Shayne was just thinking how he wished he hadn’t just thrown up; otherwise he might have maybe considered thinking about –

Charlie’s lips closed over Shayne’s, the movement careful and slow. Each of their breaths pulled sharply, and then Shayne jerked back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand that wasn’t tangled up with Charlie’s. He looked at Charlie’s shy smile and realised the new feeling rising up in him wasn’t quite nausea or anxiety, but something a lot softer. Fluttery. Happy.

“Happy New Year, lovely,” Charlie whispered.

[crebby]

PI Woods - A personal take on Homicidal Liu

Important Disclaimer

This entire post was solely written for fun! I do not in any way want to demean the original version of Homicidal Liu. The original creator seems v cool and if the only thing that may be considered ‘fixed’ is the way Liu’s DID works, as even the creator themselves has stated that if they had written Liu today, they would’ve approached things differently. The rest is all just me throwing out my own ideas.

Also, if any corrections are to be made about his DID or if I wrote anything wrong, please do let me know!

Additionally, I must warn that this contains mentions of s*icide, self harm, violence, murder and mentions of past trauma. Said content is all beneath the cut.

The past

Liu came from a troubled, abusive household and spent a good few years in an orphanage until he got adopted into the Woods family at the age of 7. Despite now growing up under a loving family, Liu has always sensed that something about him made him different from other kids, finding himself often stuck with memory loss. Meanwhile, his parents had to deal with sudden outbursts and tantrums, their son suddenly insisting that his name is Sully, and at other times they had to stop 'Liu' from doing anything harmful to himself.

The possibility of dissociative identity disorder wasn’t considered, and at the time, the Woods parents assumed this behaviour to be the result of trauma from Liu’s previous household.

In the beginning, Liu didn’t quite have a word to describe his experience. He knew there were others living alongside in his body in a way and it made things harder for him. It was only once he got older that he discovered what DID was, and things finally made sense to him. He’s absolutely certain he has it, but never felt this was something he could bring up around his family, not even his brother. It took him even longer to figure out how to achieve some proper normalcy with his alters.

Despite the difficulties, the Woods family has always loved Liu like he was their own.

The system

Liu is the host of this system, and there are three alters alongside him. Liu always used to be rather taciturn and introverted, but was very kind and polite. Between him and Jeff, their parents always noted that Liu was the most well-behaved out of the two, also being studious and responsible: something that came naturally as the older sibling.

Sully, on the other hand, has always been rather antsy and anxious, always on guard like something bad is bound to happen. He isn’t necessarily violent, but he is very reactive and therefore is prone to outbursts at times. Notably, Sully is a very avid lover of all things strawberry. Sometimes a switch occurs, leaving whoever fronts now wondering why there’s so much strawberry yoghurt in the fridge, only to then remember Sully probably went to buy groceries. He’s also prone to triggers as he holds certain traumatic memories. Generally, he still manages to be functional. He's the most likely to hold grudges (relevant for later) and his cautiousness usually makes sure nothing stupid happens.

Myra is easily the most responsible in the system, and is also the only female alter. Sometimes she forgets that she is residing in a male body, but has gotten used to it, though Liu has insisted on at least making himself appear somewhat more androgynous for the sake of her comfort when she's fronting, while also preventing discomfort for other alters. Myra is more in charge of solving things like conflicts and occasionally manages switches as well, but also makes sure regular tasks get done.

Calypso is… Quite the subject. He is the carrier of most of the system's traumatic memories, and is the least stable out of the four. They are most susceptible to self-destructive tendencies. Sometimes Myra, Liu or Sully will wake up feeling horrible and sore, only to realise it was because Calypso tried things the night before. Due to these tendencies, the system tries to make sure they don't front very often, both for their own and Calypso's safety, even if this isn't always pleasant for him.

The Incident

Things were quite shaken up after the night Jeff tried to kill the system, but it was Sully who underwent the direct experience that night, while Liu woke up, confused and in pain in the hospital after his memory stopped at him welcoming Jeff back home. Naturally, he was quite distraught and disoriented, as was Myra and Calypso.

Trying to achieve a new sense of normalcy was tough for the system, and it took a while to even recover from the initial shock. They were sent off to Liu's aunt, who was more than happy to take the system in, especially considering Liu was her favourite nephew.

After the attempt on the system's life, Liu became far more withdrawn, and got more and more absorbed by his studies. He still had no idea what lead up to Jeff snapping the way he did, but had managed to forgive him and simply wants a chance to talk to him again. Given the opportunity, he moved out, eventually working as a private investigator. When he was younger, he dreamt of being a detective, but all the incidents leading up to Jeff's decline left Liu with a permanent distrust towards the police, making private detective work the next best thing. Along with this, Liu has completely dedicated himself to finding out where Jeff went, and to hopefully talk to him.

Sully, on the other hand, may forgive but never forgets, and this time he couldn't forgive. Similarly to Liu, he has developed an obsession with pinning down Jeff's whereabouts, but he has far more sinister reasons for this, as he is quite vengeful towards Jeff. He isn't as stable as he used to be, either.

Liu and Sully's dedication to finding Jeff has been the source of a lot of conflict, as Myra - and Calypso to an extent - wants to be able to move on from what happened and return to living a normal life, heavily disagreeing with what the two are doing. At times, she has tried sabotaging their investigations, and the system still hasn't come to an agreement regarding this situation.

Homicide

Things only get messier from here.

Once Liu is set on a goal, there is nothing you can do to actually stop him. This means he's more than willing to turn to murder if it means furthering his goals. He has already murdered several people, most being related to the investigation into Jeff. However, he approaches this very methodically. His go-to method is staging suicides or accidents, and cooldown periods are quite long. He only kills if he deems killing to be necessary, and does in fact feel guilty about it. He tries rationalising what he's done by telling himself that Jeff would most likely be killed by authorities, and that this is a way of protecting him, but deep down he knows he's kind of lying to himself.

Sully is much messier, much to Liu's chagrin. On some occasions he intentionally kills, and in many other cases it's because something triggered the trauma experienced from what Jeff did, and he reacts violently. Many of the people Sully kills either resemble Jeff or remind Sully of him in one way or another. Contrary to Liu, Sully takes pleasure in brutally killing these people because to him, it's the closest to actually killing Jeff. Sometimes Liu instructs Sully mentally on how to dispose of the bodies, other times there's a switch and Liu does it himself.

Myra and Calypso are extremely against this, leading to even more conflict in the system. Self-destructive tendencies coming from Calypso end up worsening as a result, and they have attempted to consciously kill the entire system, feeling like it’s the only way to stop what they’re doing. In some cases, they have nearly succeeded, so all three other alters have to collectively block Calypso from fronting entirely for safety reasons. Despite this, he’s still very much present.

Extra (can be updated)

Myra, Sully and Calypso are eager to have an image of what they believe they look like, and as a result love recreating themselves whether it’s through art or through character creators like Picrew. This is how the system would make themselves on Picrew:

Liu

(He very intentionally portrays himself without the scars and stitches. They’re a huge insecurity of his.)

Sully

Myra

Calypso

--

If I have made any mistakes in the portrayal of DID, please let me know and correct me!! I wish to do my best, as I know it’s a heavily misportrayed condition.

[papirouge]

Aw I'm excited for you moving somewhere new! New experiences are so fun!

I totally get what you mean with the lifestyle channels, I love watching cooking ones and I'll be thinking 'ah so relaxing' before I realise that I have to move out soon and live alone

And the people in the vids can cook so well? And I can only cook 4 meals (I'm good at them though)

Honestly I do wish I can share my life with someone when I'm older a lot... But then I also remember how the Bible praises singleness and relationships as having separate but equal benefits and that both are very good! And I think of a lady in my church who had accepted and enjoyed being single, and still eventually found a husband at age 40 and has two kids now

It's all about what God has planned for us and there's joy to be had in both lifestyles!

You're right, the Bible praises singleness, and I'm often wondering whether I may have the gift of celibacy lol. But then, why would I still longing for companionship? I often ask God to remove from my heart this desire because it causes me pain...

Marrying older is such a tender milestone💙 thank you for sharing this story. Ironically, despite my struggle with celibacy, I'm actually glad I never dated anyone. Being in my 30s with no romantic experience is definitely iconoclast but that's something I learned to appreciate about myself. I often get told I've got a very unique personality & outlook on life. Would I be the same if I had dated since my teens or had been in a relationship for several years? I don't think so. Growing out of the flock always pulls out very outstanding characters in general.

I also find the idea of men living alone for a long time very attractive (I find independence as a whole very attractive). Ideally I wish I could marry someone who's as inexperienced as I am.

I often get told that men around my age who are inexperienced aren't that many (which is true)... but it's not impossible. My two male friends have always been single.... It's just that we, lifelong celibate, aren't screaming it on the rooftops 🙄 We exist... maybe right in front of your nose (lol).

I'm extremely suspicious of people who've never been single for more than a minute. My latest crush (8 years ago) was exactly like that. He dated a girl, then they broke up, then a few days later he was already seeking for another one. He eventually met someone, firstly as a hookup, than she became his gf.... From my perspective of today, I know it was super cringe and I'm ashamed I could be attracted by this type of man, but back then it hurt me bc I felt like I was somehow missing out for not being "like that" : a cool girl that could be a love interest. I got friendzoned miserably lmao. This experience made me feel so dumb (for thinking I had a chance with someone....), insecure and vulnerable... I think something in me decided to never catch feelings again - and I did.

IDK why I started talking about me being rejected....lmao but basically I'm glad I'm not the person I was before and more importantly, I'm glad I didn't "get" the type of boy that I wanted (not bearing being single, hooking up with random girls, indecisive, borderline cheaters, racial fetishist, etc).

I can only hope God will either make me accept my fate of remaining single for the rest of my life OR make me meet the right person at the right season and keep him for the rest of my life. Amen🥺

[reversecreek]

snickers feverishly at myself for bringing in a 5th... who do i think i am? unstoppable? invincible? suddenly ripples my titanium plated pecs. maybe so. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here. 

* margaret qualley, cis female + she/her  | you know bradley milligan, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to looking for knives by dyan like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole snow angels trampled through by your father’s footprints, casually reading a newspaper that’s catching flame & stubbing a cigarette against the wing mirror of a parked cop car thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 11th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY:

bradley has this memory of meeting her grandmother for the first time n everything in the room was frozen still. even the air. she didn’t feel like she cld move n she got the impression this is how it’d always been in the milligan lineage. the only thing that was allowed to act of it’s own accord was her grandmother’s eyes as she tracked every slightest flinch of muscle. when her father left the room her grandmother reached out and took bradley’s hand n bradley looked at this like it was smthn she’d never seen before until her grandmother leaned close and all she could stare at was a nicotine stain on one of her front teeth. “he’s cold, isn’t he? he’s always been cold. i don’t think he’s mine.” bradley could tell from how tight she held her hand that he was. she could tell by the way she smiled as she said it, too. the way she felt obliged to smile back.

growing up in a huge white house in aquila drive w pruned hedges sounds idyllic n looks it too. swanky cars w tinted windows in the long driveway. always men filing in and out under the cloak of night wearing expensive suits n smiles worthy of a politician’s billboard. bradley’s mum alyssa thought so too n that’s hw she got into this whole mess tbh. tony milligan is very good at advertising. he cld package a jarred human heart as strawberry jam and convince u to spread it on ur toast if he wanted to. he could make u smile politely as u ate ur own. 

alyssa ws this very pretty blonde kind of mysterious presence in a room. everyone wanted to kno her story or fk her but noone rly treated her like a person more just like a puzzle to solve. john green syndrome alert..... literally manic pixie dream girled bt on turbo charge. there were vague whispers she’d run away from home when she appeared in town out of nowhere bt nothing concrete. tony decided he wanted to crack the case n once he set his mind to something there was no changing it. they wound up embroiled in a whirlwind romance. head over heels. he came at romance hard and fast as a freight train. alyssa knew he was into shady things but not quite the full extent of it n honestly she didn’t care bc she wanted security n a family to call her own n tony promised that. they were married within a year. 

tony came frm money bt he wanted to carve his own path n make his own legacy. destined fr greatness he’d tell her. we’re destined for greatness. it sounds nice doesn’t it! alyssa thought so too.

(drugs mention tw) slowly over the yrs he essentially forged his own crime organisation tht only grew. he opened a strip club down the seedier side of irving called ‘no angels’ n this became the front thru which his gang ran drugs in the back (predominantly coke n they pride themselves fr having a Superior Blend apparently) as well as laundering cash n this also was kind of their home base to hang

(abuse tw) their marriage increasingly lost it’s shine n alyssa came to realise she’d been sold a lie n she didn’t rly know this person or what he was capable of right around the time bradley was born. by then it was kind of like Wow i am rly in this n there is not an exit door huh. i won’t go into details bt things were not good at all. bradley witnessed n experienced a lot of things she shouldn’t have growing up. she didn’t understand why other kids drew home in all these different coloured crayons like they were bright places to be. she didn’t understand why everyone got so excited when the bell rang at the end of the day bc she just felt sick. she rationalised tht this was normal when she was younger bc sometimes kids talked abt the monsters under their beds giving them nightmares n she thought mayb they were talking abt their dads too. as she got older she realised tht actually her world wasn’t the same as anyone else’s n she also realised no-one wld ever be able to tell her why. she started becoming friends with the angry feeling in her chest tht she used to try and swallow around this time. often she’d wander the mall for a while to put off going home. smoke on random park benches. watch trains rattle thru town from the vantage point of a random rooftop. 

(abuse, missing person implied, murder implied & grief tw) when bradley was 12 she woke up and all of her mum’s clothes were gone frm their drawers. no shoes anywhere. a framed photo of them at the beach holding bradley as a baby vanished from over the mantelpiece. when bradley asked her dad what was going on, tony essentially said “it was exhausting her. being here. being your mother. she didn’t want to do it any more, so now she’s gone” n then he hugged her. little details leaked into the mix over the yrs. at one point tony dismissed her as having flown overseas to a foreign country to drink in the sun like she’d always wanted even tho alyssa always told bradley she liked the snow best (once she even walked outside as it fell in a thin lace nightgown when tony was out n when bradley said “mom you’re gonna get cold” she only tugged her down and made her do snow angels until her lips looked blue). the most significant memory bradley can never shake from her head is her mother cupping a yellow tulip at the park n saying she hated them. when bradley asked why she only turned and smiled at her as she stroked the hair from her face n then said “because they look so happy”. after bradley’s mum vanished a long flower bed at the bottom of the garden was suddenly overrun with dozens of freshly planted yellow tulips. whenever bradley looked at them out of her window she got this sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach like she was visiting a cemetery. she suspected what had happened to her mum (especially as rumours circulated within tony’s organisation abt alyssa being unfaithful with someone tht used to work fr him) bt she cld never bring herself to truly accept it. thus she ws stuck in this strange purgatory state of not-quite-anger at her mum for “leaving” and not-quite-grief.

bradley rly started to transgress in school after her mum was gone. alyssa was always kind of a character when she’d pick bradley up (wasn’t doing well n acted kind of ‘eccentric’ i suppose u cld say) so tony managed to spin it all as a child acting out in the wake of an unfit mother uprooting n abandoning. bradley became........ interesting. JKHGFSSKJGHFSGHSKFGHFG. she’d snap n resort to violence very easily. very desensitised to it. students were kind of scared of her tbh. as this progressed into proper high school she got in w the more rowdy popular crowd solely bc she was so fking.... wild for lack of a better word. rly would just do anything fr the thrill. had no sense of ‘i shouldn’t do this bc it’s dangerous’. partied harder than anyone. bit back harder than anyone. no filter. hung w a lot of guys honestly bc they had less morals n either found her scariness cool or wanted to fk <3

(hospitalisation, depression & drugs tw) she’s had. a few stints in psychiatric institutions fr various reasons tbh. missed a small chunk of her senior yr fr this but it wasn’t widely known just kind of rumoured. she showcases a lot of similar symptoms to her mum who struggled w severe depression (which was difficult to cope w when ur husband was often pouring ur prescription down the drain fr kicks) n in order to compensate fr the lows she takes a lot of things to kick them into highs. drinks n snorts too much. bradley i love u bt i’m begging u to seek healthier coping mechanisms......

as the yrs went on (especially once alyssa had gone) tony rly started trying to integrate bradley into the business side of things...... she literally. is named bradley bc he was expecting a boy n he was like well let’s still call her bradley. n had in mind she’d still fulfil the role he wanted her to of being his little protege so to speak.... both sexist n ugly all in one fell swoop...... an example of this is he literally. bought her a mint green switchblade for her 14th birthday n named it tinkerbell bc it would “die without attention” aka using it. tht sounds like a healthy gift to give a child tony congratulations sis <3

in an ideal world bradley wld have gone to uni to study psychology bc she jst wants to know how the fk her dad is literally like that bt she probably stuck around n is now managing no angels along with billy n marco (billy’s in her dad’s gang n is, u guessed it, a cunt, n marco is his sort of right hand man so to speak) bc tony’s in the closest neighbouring city overseeing a second ‘no angels’ opening up there to expand into a franchise n widen their income margins. bradley wld also be sort of used as a honey trap type deal once she got older if they needed to lure ppl places n sometimes still is bt it depends. the guys in the club all know not to mess w bradley bc she’s tony’s daughter n literally kind of scary herself sometimes bt there’s also this certain allure tht comes with being the boss’ daughter n it kind of comes across in how they act or talk abt her. yes i will kill them all n no i won’t feel bad abt it <3

think that’s kind of all u need to kno history wise... blinks one eye out of sync w the other..... runs to personality

PERSONALITY:

a phrase i wld always use to describe bradley in old intros is “like a cup of black coffee with one grain of sugar that u don’t taste until the last sip”. also dark chocolate. lime. liquorice. she’s an acquired taste n i feel like u either love her or u hate her. 

cannot express how unpredictably chaotic she is..... frequently throws a drink in a stranger’s face jst to start something bc she’s bored. loves to hurl cheese slices across the room so they slap onto someone’s face out of nowhere. likes smashing things. stubbing cigarettes out on faces in framed family photographs. will literally pick a lock n then smash the window besides it to defeat the whole purpose just bc she found how neat it was boring. does anything fr the adrenaline n thrill. gets into far too many fights n fights dirty. probably been thrown out of every bar in town at least three times. banned from a bunch too.

she’s witty bt she has a dark sense of humour..... can be quite mean.......... loves to roast ppl for no reason........ honestly has some nathan young frm misfits aspects in that sense like jst seems untouchable emotionally n like she doesn’t take anything seriously n is fking outrageous about it.....

has this quality abt her tht kind of scares herself sometimes. it’s like she recognises parts of her dad in her. she’s very perceptive (bc she’s had to be over the yrs trying to read every micro-expression of her dad’s to predict what’s next) n like emotionally intelligent in a way which is ironic bc her own emotions r just an absolute minefield.... bt. she can read people quite well. gets this eerily calm look abt her sometimes n it’s jst like god what’s. she thinking. what’s she’s gna do. i’m shaking. a cool n controlled kind of rage can often be scarier than the explosive type n bradley does that well. grits my teeth n tugs on my collar....

very strong on the surface. hates being vulnerable. has this ingrained idea that crying is childish or rly any kind of emotional display within herself. 50% not taking things seriously 50% angry. tht’s how she comes across....... internally? whole different story. bt ppl don’t see that.

very cavalier abt some things. will flash her tits n not even think abt it. jst very out there...... one of her closest friends is a homeless man named joe who wears neon purple fishnets on his head n loves to spit on ppl from over an underpass. finds eccentric ppl like this funny n surrounds herself w them. loves to be kept on her toes.

LOVES driving stolen cars down the wrong side of the highway. it’s a lot.

fiercely loyal to a fault to a select few bt if u wrong her personally this can switch pretty quick. quite a force to b reckoned w n will hold a grudge. bt like. if ur a Chosen One she’d bury a body for u no questions asked. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

deals to u: bradley isn’t like full time into dealing bt she does do it sometimes.... treats it kind of like a hobby bc the lesser ranked can do tht shit as far as she’s concerned bt.. sometimes also jst gets bored n is like. why not. might be chaotic. mayb they’ll try to rob me <3 we love the thrill <3 or like..... if ur friends w her she’ll deal to u n no she will not do a friends discount <3 or if she does there will definitely be some sort of stipulation attached <3

high skl crew: if ur muse is local n ws an absolutely demonic hell spawn in high skl tht went to 1974547254 parties n was outrageously chaotic n rude then. bradley probably was friends w them <3 her friendships tend to be surface level bt they’d definitely go out a bunch bt whether they actually knew a lot abt her life is debatable bt we could explore options fr this

people who work at no angels: no angels is her dad’s strip club in irving that she kind of helps to run now. it’s kind of a shifty environment. the place where ud have an outrageous bachelor party. u go for the first time w a fake id n u get served bt u also get ur wallet stolen n ur convinced someone spat in ur drink n u also kind of think there might b a hit on u now after u made eye contact too long w a broad shouldered man smoking in a back booth. scary environment. testament to her dad as a person. maybe ur muse is a dancer there or works the bar or security or whatever u name it....

ma’am are u ok?: ur muse found bradley passed out across two bus seats one time in smudged dark eyeliner a silver slip dress n the world’s chunkiest combat boots this town hs ever seen. sometimes she winds up in spots like this when she goes too hard n it’s absolutely dangerous n reckless bt that’s jst bradley <3 mayb they forged an unlikely friendship frm this strange meeting or maybe even? dare i say it? a romance? opposite worlds colliding? good influence? let’s go crazy. release ur inhibitions. feel the rain on ur skin.

hook-ups: bradley’s cavalier abt this stuff..... very unemotional typically..... mayb we cld do an unrequited thing that wld be angsty n fun altho i won’t lie i don’t kno if she’d be the one to catch the feelings.... she rarely sleeps over bt once when she woke up in someone’s bed she hiked over to straddle them carefully as possible so they wldn’t wake up n then pressed her knife to their neck as a fun little surprise where she said boo when they opened their eyes.... she’s a lot clearly.

watermelon slugger, hiiii: bradley has this habit where she gets a bunch of watermelons n then goes to a rooftop n throws them over the edge to watch them explode when they hit the pavement.... maybe ur muse almost got hit by one once n were like WTF???????? another quirky meet cute moment like the bus one <3 can’t stop w them <3 maybe she randomly invited ur muse to do it w her when they were like. a stranger of f the street. she was bored. decided to adopt them as a science experiment. we cn elaborate on this probably....

ouch charlie: similar territory bt she also sometimes shoots pedestrians w a bb gun from rooftops. mayb ur muse wld always get hit by one on a certain route they walked n finally one day they saw her head ducking down behind a ledge n then they see her in the street one day n are like HEY IT’S YOU............. WTF? n bradley’s like ya i’m christ risen again it’s a lot to take in i know...

rly jst anything... mutually destructive friends... exes.... in one rp a character tried to get close to bradley so he cld write an expose all book about her n her family which i found so fking funny so i’ll request that again.... people she’s fought.... ppl whose gf/bf she’s fk’d n it’s caused enemy status.... someone whose place she broke into and shaved their eyebrows off in the night only to draw them on again in crudely thin permanent sharpie lines.... roommates cld be fun n sexy i’d love that actually.... jst anything rly. go wild. kisses everyone tenderly on cheeks.