#i never asked to be born into this. i wish i never was. i wish i wasnt alive right now

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi hello! hopefully what im asking for isn't too obscure, but do you think i could i get resources/tips on how to write a being that was synthetically made/and or coded? Much thanks in advance/for the chance!

Writing Ideas: Synthetically-Made Characters

some character tropes

Artificial Human: A human being who was created artificially rather than born naturally.

Artificial Animal People: Human-like animals or animal-like humans created through science.

Artificial Intelligence: In fictional works, AI most usually refers to artificial general intelligence — a sapient, self-aware computer system capable of independent thought and reason.

Bioweapon Beast: You create your own attack animal, genetically engineering existing organisms or creating your own. Maybe this new organism would rather just be left alone, and refuses to actually fight. Maybe it goes feral and becomes a dangerous monster roaming the wilderness. Maybe it actually works perfectly, but those in charge of it are far from ethical.

Clockwork Creature: May be purely mechanical, or, if in a fantasy setting, there may be a blend of mechanical and magical elements.

Mechanical Lifeforms: A race of robots or robot-like creatures that are also considered a honest-to-goodness species of living things. They're just like your everyday living organisms, except they happen to have metal for skin, wires for nerves, and so on. They're often silicon-based as well. These may be robotic animals, plants, micro-organisms, or sapient creatures. If they are sapient, they would never wish to Become a Real Boy because, as far as they can see, they are as real as that boy. The origin of such creatures is often never elaborated on or unknown to the characters. It's not uncommon for them to have creators Shrouded in Myth and mystified or outright denied in a sort of reversed creationism that are later further explained in plot-relevant and shocking revelations, similar to precursors for organic species. Sapient mechanical lifeforms tend to react as one would expect when they learn the nature of their origin, usually in some kind of denial and anger. There has been a trend of portraying mechanical lifeforms as formerly organic races that roboticized themselves either as the next Evolutionary Level or simply to survive some world-ending catastrophe that affected them in the past. However, it's also common for such creatures to simply arise without a creator in a process comparable to evolution.

Puppet Permutation: A person changes into a living puppet. They sometimes can control themselves, but this is usually not the case. These puppets are often controlled by outside forces.

Examples

Frankenstein's Monster is one of the most classic and well known examples. While it is stressed at certain points through the original Frankenstein novel that the monster is an entirely unique species, he certainly has a human intelligence and personality. It is left ambiguous whether creating the creature was actually a bad thing or not. The creature suffers (and subsequently causes suffering to his creator), not because it was created but because the creator abandoned it afterwards.

Celtic Mythology: Blodeuedd, the woman created from flowers to be the wife of Lleu Llaw in Medieval Welsh mythology.

A Greek myth tells the story of Pygmalion, a man who shunned real-life women but craved that his beautiful sculpture of one would come to life. He loved it so much that he prayed to Venus/Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, to grant him that wish. After he kissed the ivory-carved statue's lips, Venus worked her magic and it came to life. This is seen as a literal "Breath of Life".

Pandora in Greek myth was a sculpture that the Gods made and brought to life.

Japanese Mythology: Any non-electronic item can become a Tsukumogami if it's cared for and becomes old enough, which are Animate Inanimate Objects. This can also happen to toys, giving rise to the Living Toys trope.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: An alien civilization created at least one sentient supercomputer, Deep Thought, for the purpose of answering philosophical questions regarding the meaning of life, the universe and everything.

The Hunger Games: During the rebellion which led to the creation of the titular Games, the Capitol bred a number of genetically engineered animals called muttations (commonly abbreviated to mutts) which were used as living weapons against the districts. From the Tenth Hunger Games onwards, they became a regular feature in the arena, with the Gamemakers using them either to kill the tributes directly or to drive the tributes together and force them to fight each other. Examples of mutts seen in the Games include poisonous snakes which are programmed to attack anyone whose scent is unfamiliar, carnivorous squirrels which attack in packs and werewolf-like creatures which have been created to resemble fallen tributes.

Victor Frankenstein (2015): Victor proclaims to Igor that they will create a man after their own image. The process involves stitching together dead body parts and reanimating the corpse with lightning.

Isaac Asimov often averted this trope quite harshly in his Robot Series and related works, preferring to think of robots as tools rather than people. He only imagined robots being roughly humanoid when they needed to be able to perform tasks which human tools for already existed and it wouldn't make sense to replace every piece of equipment when one robot could be made to use them. They were always built to the job, and sometimes that job made for very unusual designs instead.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, here are some related tropes you can use as inspiration. More examples and information on these in the sources linked above. Hope this helps with your writing!

[yongility]

NEO TV # i like me better when i'm with you ꗃ╭╯ jung jaehyun.

──────── chapter ⵌ 8: ghosts of the past.

𒄬 genre: slowburn / angst / suggestive / gang au / rich kid au / e2l

𒄬 warnings: drug use mention / gang activity / fights / use of weapons / adult language / nsfw scenes / illegal activities / mentions of cheating / toxic family enviroment / addictions / manipulation / insecurities / illegal street racing / death mentions / jeno is jaehyun's brother / lots of angst. - cursives are flashbacks in this chapter.

𒄬word count: 4k

if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

The stars didn’t shine in Neo Zone. At least, not the way they did in books.

Jaehyun used to search for them all the time as a child— staring up at the polluted sky, wondering if they had disappeared forever or if they were simply hiding… afraid, just like him. He had asked his father once, on a night much like this, as they sat on the sidewalk of their house.

“Why don’t we have stars, Dad?”

His father had smiled then. a tired, weathered kind of smile, the kind that carried too many things left unsaid. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette – a mint one — lighting it with a flick of his old metal lighter. The orange glow flickered against his sharp features, casting deep shadows under his eyes.

“We do have them, kiddo. They’re still up there… you just can’t see them from here”

Jaehyun had frowned, kicking a rock that was near his feet and pouting slightly. “Why not?”

“Because this part of the city is too loud. Too many lights, too much smoke. The sky is covered in all the things people would rather not see.”

Jaehyun didn’t understand what he meant back then. He only knew that the stars were gone, and it felt like the universe had abandoned this place.

“Does that mean we can never see them?”

His father hesitated. And now, years later, Jaehyun would recognize it for what is was – a moment of truth too painful to say aloud.

“Not unless you find a way out, son.”

There had been something in his father’s voice that night… something heavy, like a man speaking from experience. Jaehyun hadn’t questioned it. He had simply leaned into this father’s side, feeling the weight of the man’s arm around him. It was one of the only times his father had truly held him, warmth radiating from his body despite the cold wind that always howled through Neo Zone´s streets.

“Do you ever wish we lived somewhere else?” Jaehyun had asked quietly.

His father chuckled, ruffling Jaehyun’s messy hair. “All the time.”

“Then why don’t we leave?”

His father didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked down at his cigarette, tapping the ashes off the edge off the sidewalk. His face had darkened, deep in thought, his usual sharp confidence replaced with something Jaehyun now knew was regret.

“Because some places don't let you leave, Yoonoh. No matter how much you want to.”

Jaehyun had furrowed his brows at that. It didn’t make sense to him. Back then, he still believed that anyone could choose their own future.

“That’s stupid” he muttered, pouting. “If you wanna leave, just leave.”

His father had smiled again, but this time. There was sadness behind it, something Jaehyun couldn’t quite place. His father had looked at him then — really looked at him, the way a man looks at something too precious to keep safe in a world like this one.

“You’re still young, kiddo. That 's good. Keep thinking like that for as long as you can.”

“But you’ll leave one day, won’t you?” Jaehyun had pressed. “You and me… and Jeno?”

His father had turned away at that, staring to the dark sky… looking for the stars.

“Maybe you will” he murmured. “But me? I was born in this place… and I’ll die in it”

Jaehyun hated that answer. He hadn’t understood why his father spoke about himself like he was already gone. He had wanted to argue, to tell him that they could leave together, that they could find a place where the stars were bright, where they could breathe air that didn’t taste like metal and cigarette smoke.

“Listen to me, Yoonoh. When you grow up, I need you to be safe—  to watch your back. I need you to take care of Jeno”.

Jaehyun blinked up at him. “Why?”

His father’s eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something Jaehyun wasn’t. Something he hoped his son would never have to see.

“Because in this zone, people don’t like it when you start thinking for yourself. The higher-ups?” he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. “They’ll smile at you, tell you you’re one of them. But the second they think you’re a liability? They’ll take matters into their own hands.”

Jaehyun shivered, not just from the cold, but from the way his father said it.

“Doesn’t matter who you are, the position you are in… in this place you just have to be in the way to go down if they want to.”

Jaehyun hadn’t fully understood what his father was trying to warn him about. He had thought his father was just being paranoid… but his father deep down knew what was coming and Jaehyun wishes he also knew back then…

Because weeks later, his father was dead.

And Jaehyun never saw the stars again.

Jaehyun wasn’t expecting to see Jeno when he walked into the room.

 But there he was.

Sitting comfortably across from Sooman, one arm draped over the back of the leather chair, his posture too casual— too at home in a place he didn’t belong. At home with the person that was the reason for all the bad things that had happened to him. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the thin stream of some curling lazily towards the ceiling. The dim lighting made him look older, sharper, like he had already shed the last pieces of the kid Jaehyun had spent his life trying to protect.

It took Jaehyun a second to react. Just a second. But it was long enough.

Jeno noticed. Sooman noticed.

And suddenly, Jaehyun felt like he was the outsider in this room.

“Took you long enough, hyung” Jeno muttered, not bothering to stand.

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. He ignored the empty chair Sooman gestured to, his focus locked on Jeno.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jeno smirked, tapping the ashes off his cigarette. “Business.”

Jaehyun turned to Sooman, voice tense. “Since when?”

Sooman leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass, amused by the exchange. “Since I said so.”

Jaehyun’s fists clenched, but he forced his voice to stay calm. “He’s not ready for this.”

Jeno scoffed, shaking his head. “You heard that boss? Hyung thinks I’m still a kid.”

Sooman chuckled, setting his drink down. "I hear it." His gaze flicked back to Jaehyun, sharp and knowing. "But I also see what’s in front of me."

Jaehyun didn’t like that answer.

Jeno sat up slightly, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off a weight. "You always do this," he muttered. "Act like you can control me just because you got here first."

Jaehyun exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his temper in check.

"That’s not what this is about."

Jeno arched a brow. "No? Then what is it about?"

Jaehyun didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, he didn’t know how to explain it—this gut-wrenching, sinking feeling in his chest. The way his father’s voice echoed in his head, reminding him of the little boy who once followed him around, who clung to his hoodie in his sleep, who looked up to him with eyes that still saw something worth admiring.

"He’s lucky to have you, you know? He’ll look up to you one day. Just make sure he has something worth looking up to."

Jaehyun had spent years trying to protect Jeno from this world.

And now?

Jeno was staring at him like he was the problem.

Sooman watched the silent tension between them with interest before finally speaking.

"Relax, Jaehyun," he said smoothly. "Your brother’s not a child anymore. He’s smart. Capable. And most importantly, he’s loyal."

Jaehyun hated the way he said that.

"That’s why I trust him to be here," Sooman continued. "To sit at this table. To handle things like a man."

Jaehyun’s stomach twisted.

Because Sooman wasn’t just praising Jeno.

He was claiming him.

Jaehyun knew this game. Sooman had played it with him, too. And now, he was playing it with Jeno—feeding him just enough power, just enough approval, so that he would never want to leave.

Jeno wasn’t just sitting at this table. He was being pulled into it.

Jaehyun finally sank into the chair, his movements slower than usual, measured. His eyes never left Sooman.

"So what’s this meeting really about?" he asked.

Sooman smiled. "Business, of course." He leaned forward slightly, voice calm, almost casual. "The exchange is happening soon. I need you ready."

Jaehyun felt the weight of those words settle over him.

"And Jeno?"

"He’ll be ready, too."

Jaehyun’s heart clenched, but his expression remained blank.

Sooman was pulling Jeno in, deeper and deeper, with every word, every look, every casual nod of approval. And Jaehyun couldn’t stop it. Not here. Not now.

So he said nothing.

Sooman leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze flickered between the two brothers before settling back on Jaehyun.

"You’re unusually tense today." He smirked. "That exchange got you nervous?"

Jaehyun forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "No."

"Good." Sooman studied him for a moment longer, as if peeling back layers Jaehyun had spent years building. "Because I don’t need hesitation."

Jaehyun stayed silent.

Sooman reached for his drink, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. "Jeno tells me you’ve been a little... distracted lately."

Jaehyun’s fingers twitched under the table.

He turned to Jeno, his voice steady. "That what you’ve been doing? Running your mouth?"

Jeno just exhaled another slow breath of smoke, unbothered. "Just saying what I see."

Sooman tilted his head, his smirk widening just a little. "You wouldn’t be letting anything... personal interfere with your duties, would you, Jaehyun?"

Jaehyun knew exactly what he meant.

His pulse thrummed in his ears, but his voice was smooth when he answered.

"No, boss."

Sooman watched him for another second, then nodded in approval.

"Good."

Jaehyun stayed quiet, staring at the table as Sooman took another sip of his drink.

"Jeno, step out for a moment," Sooman said suddenly.

Jeno hesitated, glancing between them.

"Why?"

Sooman gave him a look. "Did I stutter?"

Jeno exhaled, muttering something under his breath as he pushed himself up from the chair. His cigarette burned low, the last ember glowing faintly before he dropped it into the ashtray.

As he passed Jaehyun, his voice was low.

"Try not to embarrass yourself, hyung."

Jaehyun didn’t move. Didn’t react.

Just stared at the smoke curling from Jeno’s abandoned cigarette.

The last piece of warmth fading into nothing.

The door shut behind him.

And Jaehyun finally looked up.

Sooman’s eyes were already on him, unreadable.

"Now," he said, his tone almost amused. "Let’s talk."

Jaehyun didn’t sit.

The chair across from Sooman was empty, waiting, but he stayed standing. His fists curled at his sides, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

Jeno was gone. Sooman had sent him out like a child dismissed from the dinner table.

But Jaehyun knew better.

That hadn’t been dismissal. That had been claiming.

And now, Sooman was watching him, like he always did—calm, amused, dangerous.

Sooman sighed, motioning lazily to the chair. "I’m not gonna bite. Sit."

Jaehyun sat.

Not because he wanted to. But because this was how it worked. You didn’t refuse Sooman.

"You seemed tense earlier," Sooman mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Something bothering you?"

Jaehyun knew the game.

This wasn’t concern. This was a test.

"No."

Sooman hummed, unconvinced. "Good. Because I need your head in the right place."

The words sat heavy in the space between them.

Jaehyun knew what this was about. The exchange. The weapons deal. The reason he was still in this life.

"I assume you’re ready."

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. "I’ll be there."

"That’s not what I asked."

Jaehyun finally looked up. Sooman was watching him carefully, dark eyes sharp with something unreadable.

"I don’t like surprises, Jaehyun. I need to know that when the time comes, you’re not going to hesitate."

Jaehyun held his gaze. Didn’t blink.

"I won’t."

For a moment, silence.

Then, Sooman smiled.

Not a kind smile. Not approval.

Something colder. Sharper.

"That’s what I like about you," he murmured. "You understand how things work."

Jaehyun didn’t respond.

He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning.

Sooman leaned back in his chair, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

"Jeno’s got that same drive, you know."

Jaehyun’s stomach twisted.

He should have known. Of course this was about Jeno.

"Smart kid," Sooman continued, like this was just a casual conversation. "Quick on his feet. Knows how to read a room. You should be proud of him."

Jaehyun forced himself to stay still.

"He’s not ready for this."

Sooman tilted his head. "Neither were you."

The words hit like a hammer to the chest.

"But you adapted."

Jaehyun’s grip tightened on his knee.

"You think I don’t see it?" Sooman’s voice was almost amused now. "The way you tense up every time his name comes up? The way you look at him like he’s a little kid, while he’s sitting at the same table as you?"

Jaehyun didn’t respond.

Because Sooman was right.

"You spent all these years trying to protect him," Sooman mused, lifting his drink. "And yet, here he is."

Jaehyun swallowed. His father’s voice whispered once again replaying the same words in the back of his mind.

"He’s lucky to have you, you know? He’ll look up to you one day. Just make sure he has something worth looking up to."

But Jeno didn’t look up to him anymore.

Jeno was looking up at Sooman.

"You should be proud," Sooman said again, softer this time. "He’s one of us now."

Jaehyun’s fingers dug into his jeans.

"Jeno’s got a future here."

Jaehyun’s throat tightened. The final nail in the coffin.

Because there was no future outside of this.

Not for him. And now, not for Jeno.

Sooman leaned forward slightly, voice dropping lower. "And you, Jaehyun… you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your brother’s future, would you?"

Jaehyun’s pulse thundered in his ears.

It wasn’t a question.

It was a threat.

"No." His voice came out flat. Lifeless.

Sooman smirked. "That’s what I thought."

Jaehyun felt sick.

Sooman picked up his glass again, taking a slow sip before speaking again—this time, more casual.

"You’ve been a bit of a topic lately, you know."

Jaehyun forced himself to look up.

"People talk," Sooman continued, swirling the whiskey in his hand. "They notice things. Like who you spend your time with."

Jaehyun’s spine stiffened.

Sooman was watching him too closely now, like he was waiting to see if Jaehyun would flinch.

"It’s nothing to worry about," he murmured, voice smooth. "I just think it’s best if you keep a little… distance."

Jaehyun’s grip tightened.

"You understand why, don’t you?"

There it was.

The real reason for this conversation.

The exchange was just an obligation. Jeno was already claimed.

But (Y/N)?

She was a problem.

Sooman wasn’t threatening her. Not directly. Not yet.

But he didn’t have to.

Jaehyun knew what happened to people who became liabilities.

"I don’t need distractions on my team," Sooman added, taking another sip of his drink. "And you don’t need them either."

Jaehyun exhaled slowly.

"I understand."

"Good."

Sooman leaned back, looking satisfied.

"That’ll be all, then."

Jaehyun hesitated. Just for a second.

"Jeno…" His voice barely sounded like his own. "He’s still young. You don’t have to rush him into this."

Sooman studied him.

Then, he smiled.

"Your father said the same thing about you once."

Jaehyun didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Sooman reached for his lighter, flicking it open. The flame danced in the dim light, flickering gold against his expression.

"Look at you now."

Silence.

The night was too quiet.

The kind that wraps around your chest and sinks its claws in deep.

The city was always loud—always alive with the hum of neon lights, the distant echoes of tires screeching, the faint murmur of conversations in alleyways. But tonight?

Tonight, there was nothing.

That was the first sign.

(Y/N) had been texting Daeho for hours. No response. She had tried calling, too—straight to voicemail. That was the second sign.

Daeho had been dodging her all day, but that wasn’t unusual. He was good at running. Good at pretending everything was fine until it wasn’t.

But this time, something was off.

She didn’t know how to explain it—just a gnawing, stomach-turning sense of dread creeping up her spine.

Something was wrong.

(Y/N) sat in her parked car, phone pressed to her ear, waiting. Listening. But there was no answer.

Again.

Her screen dimmed, the contact name DAEHO staring back at her, the last messages left unread.

9:57 PM – Where are you? Ur mom have been calling me all day asking about you… 9:59 PM – I know your parents are away and you hate that, but at least answer their calls.10:20 PM – Daeho, pick up your damn phone.10:45 PM – I swear, if you’re doing something stupid again—

The typing bubble had appeared for a second. Just one. Then it vanished.

Her fingers curled around the phone, pressing redial.

Ring.

Ring.

Voicemail.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

Daeho was reckless. Self-destructive. A disaster waiting to happen. But he always picked up. Even if it was to curse her out for nagging..

Something wasn’t right.

With Daeho being in a vulnerable state everytime his parents were away off the city, (Y/N) didn’t want to think the worst… but it was impossible, because when her stomach twisted, she didn’t hesitate the slightest– she just drove.

Lots of memories filled her mind as she drove her cars with her legs trembling — her family lake house held her most precious childhood moments with Daeho and she knew it held the same feeling to him. That’s why when she knew his cousin wasn't anywhere near the city… she found herself driving to that place.

Which it didn’t quite set well for her.

As she drove, her hands trembling on the wheel, memories of childhood flooded her mind. The family lake house, the place where so much of her life had unfolded alongside Daeho. The laughter, the secrets, the comfort of familiarity. She knew the house like the back of her hand, knew the way it felt to step through its doors.

It was a place of safety. Of home.

But tonight, as she turned onto the road leading there, it felt wrong. The air felt thick, heavy with something dark, something ominous.

The moment she pulled into the driveway, her chest tightened. She didn’t even need to step inside to know something was wrong.

The air outside was thick with an unspoken warning, thick like smoke, clinging to her skin.

Her legs carried her to the stairs almost of their own volition, her heart pounding in her ears, but her feet felt leaden, as if each step was harder than the last.

The door stood ajar. Not wide open, but just enough to leave room for doubt.

A voice inside her screamed to turn around. To leave. To get out.

She knew– She knew even before she even stepped inside.

The air was too thick, the kind of silence that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

And then—

Her breath hitched.

Daeho.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He was lying there, motionless, his body sprawled on the floor in a way that didn’t seem natural. Still.

Too still.

It took a beat for her brain to catch up with what she was seeing, her mind desperately trying to reject the image in front of her.

But her body was already moving.

"Daeho!"

She was at his side in a heartbeat, dropping to her knees, hands shaking as she gripped his shoulders, her voice raw as she begged, "Wake up. Please. Wake up."

Nothing.

His skin was clammy, his breathing ragged, eyelids fluttering but not opening.

His skin was cold, clammy, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths that were too ragged. His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.

A wheezing breath rasped out of him, the sound like a death rattle in the stillness. 

Shallow. Wrong.

Panic surged through her veins, hot and violent, swallowing her whole.

"No, no, no, no—Daeho, wake up! Please—"

Her fingers scrambled against his pulse point.

Faint. Too faint.

She gasped, barely managing to grab her phone. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Ring.

Ring.

"911, what’s your emergency?"

Her voice was unrecognizable—broken, panicked, fragile. "It’s my cousin, he’s—he’s not waking up. I think he overdosed. I don’t know what he took, but—he’s barely breathing—please, you have to send someone—"

Her words were tumbling out of her mouth, fractured and disconnected, her focus wavering between the dispatcher’s voice and Daeho’s still, too-still form.

Nothing. No movement.

Her hand shook as she pressed it against his clammy face, trying to force his eyes open.

Daeho wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t fighting her anymore.

Her free hand reached up, gripping his face, trying to force his eyes open.

"Daeho, listen to me—stay with me, okay? Help is coming. Just—just hold on."

Her voice cracked.

"You hear me? Just stay awake."

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t even twitch.

Tears blurred her vision, hot and stinging. She didn’t even realize she was crying.

She needed to call someone else. Someone who would come.

Her heart pounded in her chest, erratic, like a trapped bird trying to escape its cage. The phone trembled in her hand as she dialed his number, each passing second feeling like it stretched into infinity. She could barely breathe through the panic that twisted in her gut, the air around her growing thin, almost suffocating. Her thoughts were jumbled, a whirlwind of fear and desperation.

"Pick up, please, just pick up," she whispered, her lips barely moving.

The phone rang again. Once. Twice. The third time, her breath hitched.

"Please, please, Jae” Her voice cracked, a soft, broken plea that carried more weight than she could bear.

And then, just as her panic reached its peak, his voice cut through the chaos. Low. Sleepy at first, like he’d been woken from a dream.

"Angel?"

Hearing him, hearing that voice—so familiar, so warm—was like a thread of sanity pulling her back, just for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to stop the tidal wave of fear crashing through her.

"Daeho... Daeho’s not waking up. He’s not moving." Her words were disjointed, stumbling over themselves as she fought to keep her composure, but it was slipping through her fingers like sand. She could hear the desperate edge in her own voice—the pleading that she couldn’t stop, no matter how hard she tried.

"I don’t know what he took, Jaehyun. He’s barely breathing… please, you have to come, you have to help him!"

Her hand shook violently, gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. The words felt like they were being ripped from her throat, each one harder to get out than the last. She could hear the hollow sound of her own voice, breaking with the weight of everything she couldn’t control.

Jaehyun was silent for a moment, his breath slow and steady, as though he was trying to process what she was saying. He couldn’t help the flicker of hesitation that passed through him. It was the first time they had spoken in days, the first time since their fight. That distance, that anger—they were still there, lingering between them like a heavy fog.

But it didn’t matter. Not now.

"Where are you?" His voice was sharper now, like a switch had been flipped. Cold, direct. He had no time for awkwardness or old wounds.

His pulse hammered in his chest as he gripped the steering wheel of his car, already on the move. He wasn’t sure if he was moving because of the urgency of the situation or because hearing her voice—desperate, broken—was too much to ignore.

"I’m at the lake house, Jaehyun. He’s... he’s not moving, he’s not—"

She couldn’t finish the sentence. The words felt too much to say aloud, too real. Too final.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, the weight of the moment sinking in. This wasn’t the time for past arguments, for bitterness. For a second, he wanted to scream at her for the way things had ended between them, for how they had left things unresolved. But her words—her panic—had him pressing down harder on the accelerator.

"Stay with me, okay?" Jaehyun’s voice softened for just a moment, before the tension rose again, thick and strong. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not when she needed him. "You’re not alone, (Y/N). Breathe, just breathe."

He could feel the tightness in his chest, the sharp pang of regret as he remembered their last conversation—the one where they both said things they didn’t mean. The one where silence had stretched for days. But that didn’t matter now.

Just her. Just Daeho.

"Just focus on breathing for me," he said, trying to keep her grounded, even as his own hands trembled. His voice was steady, but the fear was there—beneath it all, in the spaces between his words.

"Just stay with him. Help’s on the way," he urged, his mind spinning with the worst-case scenario, but he couldn’t let it show.

But (Y/N) wasn’t responding. She was breathing faster now, her panicked gasps cutting through the silence between them. It wasn’t enough to reassure him, to calm him down.

"I’m almost there, just hold on." His words were desperate, cracked at the edges, as though he couldn’t quite believe them himself.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white. He was already second-guessing every move he made, replaying the moments before the fight, wondering where it all went wrong between them. But there was no room for that now.

"Stay strong, (Y/N). I’m coming," Jaehyun whispered, almost to himself. He couldn’t leave her alone—not now, not when she was falling apart. He had to be there.

Her sobs were muffled now, and his heart broke at the sound. The cracks in her voice were unmistakable, and it drove a wedge deeper between them—familiar, but painful.

"I swear, (Y/N), just hold on." Jaehyun’s words, softer now, cracked under the weight of what they both had yet to face.

He should have seen this coming. Of course it was Daeho.

The kid had been on a collision course for months. Jaehyun had watched it happen—hadn’t stopped it.

By the time he arrived, the ambulance was already there.

Red and blue lights pulsed in the dark, sirens slicing through the night like a warning too late.

Jaehyun stopped mid-step.

Daeho was being wheeled out on a stretcher.

And he looked—

Gone.

For one horrifying second, Jaehyun thought it was too late.

Then, a flicker of movement—fingers twitching.

Still alive. Barely.

(Y/N) climbed into the ambulance with him.

Jaehyun didn’t.

He just stood there, watching the doors shut.

Jaehyun found (Y/N) in the waiting area, curled up in one of the plastic chairs, looking smaller than he’d ever seen her.

But before he could speak—

Jaehyun barely had time to register the shift in the air before (Y/N)’s mother was upon him.

Her presence was suffocating, like an icy gust cutting through the sterile hospital lights. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights above seemed to only heighten the intensity of her stare—sharp, unforgiving, a laser focus locked onto him as if she were seeing nothing but the embodiment of everything that had gone wrong.

"You."

Her voice rang out, filled with so much venom it made the air crackle with it.

She stormed toward him, her heels striking the floor with heavy, purposeful steps, her entire body coiled with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. Jaehyun didn’t flinch, but it took everything in him not to. She reached him in seconds, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with the sterile hospital air, and before he could even brace himself, her hand collided with his chest. The impact pushed him back a step, the force behind it surprising for someone so refined.

Her fingers dug into his shirt, her eyes cold as ice, her voice cutting through the space between them like a blade. "This is your fault."

Each word hit him like a physical blow, but it wasn’t just the blame in her tone that stung. It was the weight of it—the certainty, the finality of the accusation. She wasn’t just blaming him for Daeho’s condition. She was blaming him for the decay she saw in her family, the damage he had brought into their perfect, orderly life.

"You ruined everything," she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You, with your dirty past, your gang... You think you can just waltz into my daughter’s life, drag her down into this mess, and there are no consequences?"

Jaehyun’s heart pounded in his chest, the words sinking in like poison. He had expected some anger, some condemnation, but hearing it in her voice—the disgust, the judgment—felt like he was being stripped of every last scrap of dignity.

"You came from nothing," she went on, her face twisted in a mixture of disdain and sorrow. "And now, my daughter is tangled up with you. With your filthy, violent world. You’ve turned everything upside down, and for what? She has a future! and you know who also has a future? Daeho! but now my nephew’s life is hanging by a thread, all because you people… all of the Neo Zone people do is ruin other people's lives…I knew you were gonna be a problem the night I saw you with my daughter.”

Jaehyun didn’t speak. He couldn’t. What could he say? She wasn’t wrong. Deep down, he knew the weight of the destruction he’d caused—the violence, the danger he had brought into her life, into her family’s life. But hearing it so plainly, so directly from her mouth... It was suffocating.

Her mother laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "You’re a joke. She’s a pawn in your world now, and don’t you dare try to make me believe otherwise."

Her words were venomous, cutting deep into his soul, ripping away the thin threads of self-worth he had clung to. He wasn’t just a disappointment to her. To her, he was a symbol of everything that could tarnish her family’s reputation—everything that had the potential to tear them apart.

(Y/N) moved to step in, her hand outstretched as if to intervene, but her mother’s cold gaze stopped her in her tracks. "No," she said sharply, her voice filled with finality. "Not this time."

Turning back to Jaehyun, her expression softened only slightly—enough for the raw, trembling hurt in her eyes to seep through. "You’ve done enough. You’ve broken my family. You people have broken him."

Jaehyun swallowed hard, but there was nothing he could say. 

(Y/N)’s mother gave him one last, hateful look before she turned away, dismissing him without a second thought. 

As her mother walked away, Jaehyun stood there, the weight of her words pressing down on him, suffocating him in the silence that followed. His hands were shaking. His mind was reeling. He had known the consequences of his life, but hearing her accuse him, hearing the complete destruction in her voice... that was something he hadn’t prepared for.

He stood there for a long moment, unsure of how to move, unsure of what to do next.

With one last glance toward (Y/N), he turned, walking away without a word, each step feeling like the final severing of a bond he hadn’t even known was important until it was already too late.

His father once told him that life was about the choices you made. But standing there, staring at the cold hospital doors, Jaehyun realized—maybe he had already made his choice.

a/n: NOT PROOFEAD! i would really love if you could gave sum feedback!(specially since english is not my first language, so it makes it a little harder to write).

taglist is open! if you want to be added just lemme know;)

taglist: @spicyryujin @daegalismybiasinnct @peachfulnight @gojoscumslut @bluedbliss @dear-97 @girlwholovespreppyattire @hana-off-icial @cigarettesafterjae @bts-iris @dojaejung @methneo @kriizztin @mrsuhnshine @pieddpiperr @completelyjae @daegalismybiasinnct @kanekisheart (idk why some of the tags just don’t work out!)

Feel free to send any asks here if you want!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

1k for 🔼

Loved the new chapter!! Buckshannon kiss part 2 and Uncle Chim for date night!! Sooooo excited for their new relationship and the Buckley parents ANGST

Thank you!!!

The angst is coming soon!

1k for 🔼:

---

“And we want that?” Buck asks.

Maddie sighs. “I guess I just… want my little girl to have a normal family. You know, uncles and grandparents that she might actually know.”

“I get that,” Shannon says quietly from the top of the stairs.

Traitor. 

“I don’t know, Maddie,” Buck says.

He feels really uncomfortable, to tell the truth. 

“Maybe…” She starts. “Maybe this’ll be a good thing, you know? You’re thriving right now, and… And Mom and Dad don’t really know who you are now. Maybe this is a good chance to reconnect.”

“Or, you know, put an end to all that thriving,” he points out. 

“I think I’m willing to try,” Maddie says. “And maybe Mom and Dad are, too.”

Buck looks at Shannon. She gives him a little shrug, like why not? And to be fair, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why not. But he can almost see the argument in her eyes. She lost her mother way too soon. She thinks he should take the chance. 

“Fine,” Buck grumbles. “But we’re a team, okay? A-a united front. You are not allowed to leave me alone with them.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Maddie says.

“A-and, I get to choose what and when I tell them about my, uh, situation,” Buck adds.

“Of course,” Maddie promises. 

Despite the reassurances, Buck sort of feels like he’s in for a very bad time. 

▶️

“Okay, you can do it,” Eddie says. “It’s not very hard.”

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, facing Jane in her high chair. She’s calm, mouthing on an arrowroot cookie, staring at him with blank versions of his own eyes. Eddie touches his sternum with his hand.

“Dad,” he says. “I’m Dad. Can you say that? Dad? Dada?”

Jane stares at him, unyielding.

“I know you can do it,” he accuses in as lighthearted a tone as he can manage. 

And the thing is, he does know she can. She’s started talking recently. Not a lot. But enough to say Mama any time she’s looking at Shannon, near Shannon, or thinking about Shannon. Mama and no. Her favorite words. Eddie feels the need to push for Dada, on account of, he never heard any of Christopher’s first words and he needs this. 

“Da-Da,” Eddie says again, emphasizing the syllables. 

Jane blinks, chewing her cookie. 

“She could say it,” comes Christopher’s voice. 

Eddie turns to see his son standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

“She could,” Chris continues. “She’s choosing not to.”

“Wait, really? You’ve heard her say it?” Eddie asks, hopeful.

“No,” Chris replies. “But she’s tricky. She’s not going to do it because you want her to.”

Eddie frowns. Jane? His ten month-old? Is tricky? 

“Uh, Chris, she’s a baby,” Eddie says. “I don’t think she’s, like, spiteful.”

Chris shrugs. “Mom says she’s going to be stubborn.”

“Stubborn?” Eddie asks. 

“Yep,” Chris confirms. “Because she’s a Sagittarius and just like you.”

Eddie coughs. “Hey, now…”

Chris laughs.  

“First of all, being born in December doesn’t mean anything,” Eddie says. “Second of all, being just like me will be her greatest strength.”

Chris just keeps giggling. 

“Okay, Dad.”

iv.

On the day he has to see his parents - for the first time in nearly a decade - Buck picks up Jane from Eddie’s house. He wishes Shannon a good time at her open house. He really wants that to go well. He wishes Chris good luck at the orthodontist. Doesn’t sound fun at all. He kisses both his partners goodbye, accepts their well wishes for the evening, and then proceeds to lose his mind on the drive to Maddie and Chim’s. 

“It’s not that I hate them,” he tells Jane. Because she is currently his only company, gurgling in her carseat behind him. “I don’t hate them! I just think… Well, I think they hate me. Never understood what started that, because it’s always been that way. So why try, you know? Nothing ever mattered.”

Jane makes a sharp little sound.

“Okay, maybe I am being close-minded. You’re right,” he says. “But, Jane, you have good parents! They love you. They would do anything for you. I bet, one day, if you’re travelling the world. Let’s say Peru, for no reason. You get sick or something? Boom. They’re on the next flight.” 

“No,” Jane says. 

“No?” Buck repeats. “Are you kidding? They’d go to the moon if that’s where they needed to get to for you.”

“No, no!”

“You’re just being contrary now, Jane.”

After he parks, he carries Jane in her car seat up the two flights of stairs to the apartment, her diaper bag slung over one shoulder. He feels oddly insecure about it, for the first time ever. He has never, not once, felt weird about doing things with the kids. Why would he? They’re awesome kids. He loves them to death. But the thought of his parents observing Buck with Jane tonight? It makes him antsy. He can’t put his finger on why, but it does. Somehow, it seems wrong to bring her into it. Like she’s far too precious.

“Alright,” he whispers to her, right before they reach the door. “You’re on my side no matter what, right?”

Jane smiles up at him.

“That’s my girl,” he says.

Then he walks into the apartment. 

Because of the roundabout journey to pick up Jane and say goodbye to everyone, Buck is the last to arrive. He can see his parents, already there, as he opens the door. It feels like walking into a pit of vipers. Which isn’t fair to Maddie, Chim, and Albert. But still. That’s how he feels.

There’s a moment where everyone sort of stares at him and Jane.

“Hey, Buck!” Albert calls out. “Good to see you, man!”

“Hi, Albert,” he smiles tensely.

His parents cross the apartment to greet him. He’s not sure how they greeted Maddie, but… It seems like they’re not too entirely excited to see him. 

[kwillow]

Not to yoink last Anon’s ask gushing about your stylization and each individual dynamics at play within depiction of their lineage but they’re 100% so right, god, it’s faBulously well done and you are BALLER at it LMAOO

Your tag joke about Theo failing to live up to the lineage ™️ made me wanna ask.

Outside of her motherly adoration (and the rose-tinted codependency glasses) while alive what actually were Jocosa’s thoughts on Theo’s contributions and long term lineage goals for him, say, in comparison to what her mother or father’s were for her?

Any previously living relatives distant or otherwise Theo might have somewhat cognizant memory of cohorting with at any point like the grandparents?

tickled by the thought Jocosa might’ve been at some point obliged by tradition/social responsibilities to have hosted a sort of public home mansion soiree dedicated to a teen Theo’s ‘coming of age’ presentation and having to somewhat laboriously nudge the stubborn teen into at least pretending he has the capacity to stand being in same room as his father or god forbid some other ceremonial father-son type ritual borne of patriarchal society.

ie: Well wishes handshake, Father-Son group attendance game hunting, Father publicly gifting the ‘new’ man a required acknowledgment item as show of mutual respect, etc…

Legacy and Expectations

In theory, what was expected of Jocosa and Theo by their parents was much the same. Be raised with lessons in history, etiquette and magic to maintain the family land and position, enter an arranged marriage, produce heirs to the lineage, etcetera. The difference is in how well that was accomplished.

Jocosa was raised with no illusions that she was anything other than a load-bearing branch on the family tree, primped and educated and trained to make her equipped to beget more branches and maintain the estate until the next generation would take over. She was married off almost as soon as she came of age and set to work on producing heirs. Obeisance was the primary trait expected of her and she learned very quickly to be silent, do as commanded and bide her time until she was the one who wore the crown.

Ideally, Jocosa wanted her son to follow in her footsteps. Uphold the family legacy, have children with a woman of her choosing, act in accord with tradition and continue to elevate the family name to its rightful position of dignity and power. Her love for him told her that he could do anything he set his brilliant mind to, and that is what she would insist to him. But she always knew he had issues.

Despite her genuine affection for him and respect for his intelligence, Jocosa understood that Theo was not the ideal heir. Beyond his physical problems, he was fast-tempered, terrible at diplomacy, ill-equipped to handle courtship, prone to fits of nerves and paranoia, and needed to be watched like a hawk around sharp objects. But perhaps with more of her guidance, more time, he'd be ready. Of course, she didn't get more time. Her health declined dramatically and Theo directed all of his attention towards helping her and trying to get her well again.

Some part of her saw how he took charge of her care, taking on the responsibility as readily as a knight at arms and thought here's the man I always knew you were. But she still had doubts, and a persistent fear that she was leaving him too soon, worried about what he'd do without her. She just had to hope he'd manage without her.

Well. That didn't work out as she hoped.

Theo's Immediate Family

His maternal grandparents were alive and living in the manor when he was a small child. They both passed away when he was still quite young, so his memories of them are vague. He has the (accurate) impression that they were not fond of him.

Theo's paternal grandparents, aunts and uncles are still around, but he never met them and wouldn't recognize them if he did (only hearing their last name would make him realize they were related).

"Coming-of-Age"

As for a coming-of-age presentation, even if his parents had planned on such a thing, being ejected from his school following The Incident put the kibosh on any public appearances for long while. After he was expelled from education, he spent the rest of his teenage years hiding in his room, unable to bear the humiliation of his failure and stress of social interaction. Jocosa didn't press him to leave the house out of concern for his wellbeing and a desire to let the scandal blow over before he showed his face in polite society again, while Leonard was content to just to try and forget about him for a while (if he had it his way, he would have sent Theo to an institution for some kind of treatment or just to be rid of him for a while, but the lady of the house refused that).

He only started leaving the house again in his twenties, to accompany his mother and father on their trips to the city and social events in an attempt to learn how to manage their business and affairs on his own once that became his responsibility (so much for that). So he did not have a grand "coming out," he just gradually started to become more and more of an unwelcome presence in the social scenes his parents were involved in as an adult. And then he disappeared from society again in his mid-twenties. Nobody missed him.

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met

[grumpyghostdoodles]

Frisk: "Oh, so you make fun of Asriel for not telling humans apart very well, but then you go and do this? Shame on you"

---------------

The character design for the new kid of "The Fairly OddParents: A New Wish" is so unintentionally hilarious. Hazel looks like a very sweet kid, and retired Cosmo and Wanda was a nice surprise, but holy shit out of all the fandoms they could accidentally reference, im wheezing

[citrusai]

taash said "they were doing it" and people ran with the interpretation of an npc that doesn't know solas or the history of the elvhenan even when bellara interjected and said, no, that's not right. that's not how it was for the elvhenan. they formed bonds before they had physical bodies. and people ran to doompost or create weird anti-solavellan shit even though mythal & solas refer to each other as old friends and when she releases him there is no tenderness or love in it. it is the act of unchaining a dog from his post, the stepping down of a general. but to each their own ig.

[jordanswitches]

i wanna have your arms tied so they're stretched high above your head and sit on your lap so you can only squirm a little and your skin is pulled so taut that every sensation feels like electricity and i just trail my fingers up your sides, over your ribs, the sides of your chest, into your armpits, and back down. over and over and over and over and over. it's light and it's slow and it shouldn't affect you so much and yet. you're trying to pull out of your cuffs and kicking your feet and your tummy is flinching and i'm just drinking up your reactions, knowing it's all for me

[niofo]

i think veilguard's refusement to engage with the tevinter slavery plotline has this one unfortunate consequence for the shadow dragons - we have this rebellious anti-slavery organization and yet the leadership that we're seeing is still a bunch of magisters. the good ones, yes, and it makes sense that they're using their power in connections for the good of the cause, but even well meaning, they lack the personal experience of how is it to be the person they are fighting for. had there been more openness to the discussion of the slavery in the game, there could be a freed slave or a liberati shown as one of the leaders, treated equally to ashur, mae or dorian - to show that they mean in when they fight with slavery. we should have had a fenris character in there, who is keeping all those magisters in check from white knighting and making a mess of everything - but the game is not really ready for it. in the end there's this awkward situation when my lord of fortune rook has a more personal experiences with the slavery than this anti-slavery organization. you can even have a very uncharitable watsonian explanation the the whole movement is deep down just another power grab and squabble between the nobility under a nice pretense of a social justice movement. i don't think that was the intention, but it could be a bad faith reading of this situation.

(and i don't think the solution is as easy as just making tarquin an ex slave. yes, he's the voice of pragmatism in there, but also his personal arc heavily rely on having to perform bullshit gender stereotypes to be granted his gender identity - it's a different kind of story, and from taash we know bw is not great at handling two social causes at once)

[genderdenied]

☆ㅤwolf4fox

pt: wolf4fox :end pt

!! ㅤ;ㅤ for : @forthecriminallyinsane

﹒ㅤdefinition ::

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; tagging : @radiomogai @x4xarchive @liom-archive

[puckpocketed]

can i just say... as a canadian hockey fan, if that means anything (bc we don't own the sport, much as the uncles protest)... you know more abt hockey tactically than me full stop. you belong without question and you would even if you didn't have half a clue what icing is !! but you do and it's beautiful and hockey is so lucky to have *you*

HELD on to this ask a bit longer than originally intended, i hope you don't mind!! this was so lovely to read after my little crisis of faith <- many such cases <3 thank you for this, really. and you're completely right of course...! knowing and not knowing certain things doesn't dictate whether someone belongs in a space.

[far-side-skies]

Not a headcanon, but I'm just curious to know your personal opinion on the subject. How would Ravess and Snipe reunite after being exiled from Cyclonia? Would they look for each other?

Hmm, I don't think they would look for each other. Their vindictive meanness to each other is played up for laughs in the show, but I do see it as part of a genuine dislike and resentment of each other due to personal headcanons regarding their childhoods. I didn't give them any reasons to seek each other out after their exiles.

In fact, I think Ravess would even see her outcast status as a blessing eventually. She's free. Free from that brat Empress, all the pressures of being a commander, and free of her annoying brother.

Snipe is a bit aimless at first, but even he learns to embrace the lack of responsibilities and endless nagging from Ravess. I think he gets a job working for the Colonel for a while, and Ravess tries to pursue a full-time career in music.

They're both forced to reunite though when Cyclonia's new ruler after Cyclonia Rising invites them both back into the Talon ranks to help fight back against the sky knights who think that because Cyclonis bailed they get to shove around what remains of the Empire.

The reunion is explosive and a lot of swearing is involved. The Talons all get popcorn and watch.

[tazabel]

ok, but Six Hundred Strike has the same energy as "Demons run when a good man goes to war"

[yourinaudiblename]

ughhhh why is gender so hard to figure out. my body is like boom gender dsyorphia but won’t tell me noone about my identity

(I accidentally made an entire vent in the tags lmao)

[devil-in-hiding]

what's weighing on your heart ):

- 🧩

choices i made, things i let get away, people i hurt