#if the timeline with free to be you and me doesn't work. please just. ignore that

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Hi, please free to ignore( huge fan of your metas btw)

What are your thoughts on Peter pettigrew? In swm we saw him fanboying over james to being responsible for his death. Just because he was afraid or he never really loved his friends. Many people say James and Sirius treated him shitty thats why he betrayed. Some even say he was just a tag along. Please share your thoughts.

First of all, thank you!

(also, unless they are rude, I don't ignore any questions, it might just take me two years to answer)

Peter Pettigrew

My very controversial opinion on Peter is that I love him (as a character).

To me, Peter is one of those characters who represent how Rowling's clear lack of self-awareness as a person translates in her work into her being unable to recognize her strengths as a writer. The majority of the most interesting things she comes up with are not the ones she focuses on.

And that's the case for Peter Pettigrew, who might be the Marauder with the most interesting story.

It's way too easy to reduce him to a coward as the author seems to want you to believe. And even claiming he didn't love his friends is a flattening of his character.

You can have a tendency to be influenced by peer pressure all you want but you don't become an unregistered animagus to help someone if you don't love the friend you are doing that for and you don't have a bit of courage (especially considering how long the whole thing was and that he wasn't particularly talented). He risked extremely severe consequences on his body due to the possibility of the process going wrong and he risked Azkaban for being unregistered.

That's fundamentally the opposite behavior of the one he later has with the Potters.

I also think it's important to point out how Remus is not a close relative (father, son, brother) and how the help Peter provides is not essential to Remus' survival, it's emotional comfort. The lack of necessity of the animagus matter and the easily cancellable bond with Remus increase the braveness and love of Peter's act (in contrast for example with something like what Narcissa does with her son by lying to Voldemort).

I think Peter's story is the one of someone who lost his courage, not the one of a person who never had it.

Doesn't this also make it so much more delicious how his downfall is caused by the return of a glimpse of honor?

I do agree with the fact that in SWM, James and Sirius don't treat him particularly well, especially Sirius, but I don't think they are that aware of it, especially James. They are a bit crude, and they are arrogant. They are two bright posh 16yo guys in a boarding school in the 70s. I don't expect from them a particularly high level of sensitivity in how they talk to people, especially to someone they take for granted knows to be their friend. Sirius is probably more aware of it, but I believe James to be quite unaware of himself at this point in the timeline. This is before his maturation really kicks in, his whole interaction with Lily shows a lack of self-awareness in how he talks to people (we know Lily turns him into a bit of an idiot, the problem is that he doesn't seem to be aware of it). Sirius on the other hand seems a lot more self-aware than James. A lot of people are not going to like what I'm about to say but: James is canonically a better person than Sirius.

And yet, it is abundantly clear that both James and Sirius love Peter.

James gives into Peter's hands his own life and the ones of his wife and son. Sirius gives in Peter's hands the lives of the family he chose.

In the Shrieking Shack, under all the pain Sirius has for the death of James and Lily, it is evident that there's also the pain that comes from the betrayal of a friend.

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!" - Chapter 19, Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban

Lily herself is very attached to Peter, in her letter to Sirius, she calls him Wormy (how cute is that?). And, let's remember that she too puts her life and the ones of her husband and son in Peter's hands.

It's too easy to say Peter was just a tagalong, that they didn't love him. It incredibly diminishes the pain of his act.

I also would like to point out that Peter isn't stupid. He was a double agent, he managed to frame Sirius by using in his favor people’s low opinion of his skills (and Remus and Sirius' rocky relationship). James, Sirius, and Remus might have thought of themselves as smarter than Peter but I don't think they actually believed him to be stupid. Considering who the Marauders are, their knowing how good of a liar, and how cunning Peter could be, would be a perfect explanation of why they became friends in the first place.

Does this mean they all loved Peter but Peter only loved Remus out of his friends?

We can't really be sure of his feelings for Sirius, but the admiration he shows for James and the sense of guilt we know he has for his double agent activities don't really align with that image.

I think Peter's fear for his own life ended up winning over the love for his friends.

But why at this point? Why not at Hogwarts?

Something quite interesting is how Peter's father is the only parent of the Marauders who is never mentioned, not in the books, not in any additional material. Doesn't that align just so well with Peter always putting himself at the service of the most important male figure around? First James, and then after school, with the war going on, Voldemort.

Isn't it such a fitting image, Peter growing up without a father, with a too-cuddling mother whom he ends up resenting, faulting her for the absence of the father? It's so natural to paint him as a young man crushed by a sense of inadequacy towards an image of masculinity he idealizes but can't fulfill, supported by a society filled with a very toxic sense of masculinity and an absent father he can sew on any fantasy he wants.

When Peter was at Hogwarts, being friends with James, and being part of the Marauders, gave Peter a sense of security that allowed him to be brave enough to prioritize his love for his friends over himself.

Out in the real world, though, Voldemort is the dominant man and being positioned against the Dark Lord takes away the sense of security he had as a student. Both times Peter goes to Voldemort, he does it because he doesn't feel safe.

It's also abundantly clear how Peter's siding with Voldemort doesn't come from ideology. He becomes an animagus for Remus, he's a dear friend of Lily.

Peter dies because Voldemort doesn't trust him, and he is right in not trusting him. Somewhere in Peter, there's still the boy who risked his life for a friend.

Try to tell me this is not an interesting character.

He's still a coward overall, but a complex one.

Also, Peter Pettigrew is a clear victim of pretty privilege when it comes to the fandom. I'm ready to bet whatever you want that if he had been described as handsome the most popular ship with Sirius would be Sirus/Peter.

Actually, he didn't even have to be described as handsome, he just needed to not be described as ugly. Draco is described as having a pointy face and people have been lying to themselves claiming he's incredibly handsome for the last twenty-five years.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A Kindness

CW: Runaway whumpee, referenced hunger/malnourishment

Timeline: After Jameson escaped from Robert but before he found a safehouse

For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 3: A Long Cold Night

-

It’s fucking freezing out here. Jameson thought California wasn’t supposed to get cold like this, but just his goddamn luck, it definitely does. 

He’s curled up against the heavy concrete beneath the overpass, using it to block the worst of the wind. There are a scattering of tents around him, others who have figured out some slim form of shelter. There’s a couple fires going, too, but Jameson doesn’t want anything to do with the people circled around them, sharing stories and in-jokes. They’ve been out here for long enough to know each other. To trust each other, more or less.

Like everywhere else he goes, Jameson doesn’t fit.

He sure as fuck doesn't trust.

When he finds other runaway pets, they think he’s frightening. The twisted scar near his mouth catches the firelight too well. He's too brash, too angry, someone who might be violent.

When he tries to stick around non-pets, they read him like a book and treat him like shit on the bottom of their shoes. Or try to sneak up on him when he sleeps and get a hand down his pants, assuming that he won’t fight back, because everyone knows Box Boys will lie back and take it, right?

Well, Jameson isn’t like other pets.

He isn't just any Box Boy.

Nanda taught him how to survive, no matter what it cost. Nanda taught him-

Goddamn fucking dead Nanda.

If he wasn't so fucking dead none of this would be happening.

Jameson closes his eyes against a hot rush of tears he refuses to allow out, not now. Not when he knows he's being watched, considered for whether he might have a few dollars that could be stolen or if he could be held down and made to accept their touch. He won't be.

The ones who try learn that real fast not to try again, once they have busted lips and black eyes and, in one case, a set of balls so bruised and twisted that the asshole who tried to make Jameson kneel for him is definitely sterile now.

Cold nights make his legs ache, the final loving legacy of the braces he’d worn for too long that never let him stand all the way up. Two goddamn assholes had put those on him, and he'll never be free of the pain. Jameson ignores it, grinds his teeth until his jaw hurts worse than his legs ever could. He can ignore it just fine until the weather gets cold.

Mostly.

There’s a scraping off to his left, footsteps crunching on gravel and shards of broken glass. Jameson’s knife is in his hand as easily as he breathes and he’s already got it brandished when he turns, putting a sneer on his face, leaning into the ugliness of the scar that twists one side of his mouth more than the other. “Listen, motherfucker, try to stick your dick anywhere near me and I’ll fucking cut it off-... shit.”

His voice dies as he takes her in.

She’s small, almost dainty looking. He reads her for what she is in a heartbeat, the grace in every movement carefully trained until it was no longer a conscious choice, the soft skin that had spent a long time moisturized and cared for at odds with the hackjob and clumsy box-dye red she’d done to her hair to try and make herself less recognizable. She’s drowning in a man’s overcoat at least four sizes too big and so long it’s dragging the ground, heavy boots that she has to be wearing at least three pairs of socks to fit into. She’s wearing leather driving gloves too big for her hands. 

Her eyes are wide and frightened.

But she's not frightened of him.

She reads him right back, and they recognize each other before a single real word is said. She manages a slight, trembling smile. Jameson feels the snarl fade off his own face. They might have trained together, not that he remembers much of training.

“... can I sit with you tonight?” She asks, voice low, glancing nervously over her shoulder and then back to him. “Please? You’re, you were one too, right?”

Jameson’s jaw works.

He should tell her to fuck off, this is his spot, leave him alone. That he’s not nice, he’s no one anyone can trust. He’s been owned three times and twice they made him live on his hands and knees, once he starved, once he watched people die over and over again until he sees their faces every time he sleeps. 

He didn't deserve to be the one who lived after it all, but he's the one who would do anything not to die, so here they are. Here they fucking are.

Instead of rejecting her need for even one small kindness, he replies instead, "Yeah, whatever. Go ahead. Don't try to talk to me about it, though."

He closes the knife, letting it slide back into his pocket as she makes her way to him, dropping down to sit beside him, curling her knees to her chest and pulling a hood up over her head. Jameson feels… settled, at the gentle unassuming touch, her weight barely noticeable when she leans slowly until her head rests on his shoulder. She smells kind of gross, but he probably does, too. Who knows when either of them last showered?

“Sorry,” She whispers as she slides her gloved hand into his, twining their fingers together. 

“Uh-... what-... what the fuck are you doing-”

“There’s a guy who won’t stop following me around.” She keeps her voice low, turning and lifting her chin so she’s almost kissing Jameson’s cheek right over his scar as she speaks. “I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you-... just pretend to be, for a while? We’re good at pretending we’re in relationships, you can do it, right? I knew when I saw you that you’d been like me.”

Jameson fights the twist of pain.

Pretending we’re in relationships.

That’s as close as he’s ever going to get, and even that was ripped away from him. Jameson never even got to tell him-

He shuts that thought down.

He doesn’t think about Nanda anymore. He doesn’t think about anyone unless it’s to hate them - that’s easier. 

All he does is nod, giving a smile - fake but to anyone else it looks warmly genuine. He can make any expression an owner wants on command, still - the scars and bald patches where hair used to be, rubbed away by the muzzle day after day, make it a little scarier. But it never looks like a lie. 

“I got you,” He murmurs back, and kisses her forehead like they’ve known each other for forever. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man lurking, skulking around, one eye on the girl all the time, watching Jameson slide an arm around her waist with barely concealed jealousy. Jameson shoots him a serene smile, pulling the girl tightly against him. 

It’s going to be a long, cold night, and he’s not going to sleep at all.

The girl dozes off almost immediately, finally feeling safe enough to sleep, and that… that helps. A little bit. 

It's a kindness.

-

@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlin-always-writing  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes  @yet-another-heathen @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[the-anon-scp-confessions]

INTRODUCTION

Welcome to the SCP Anon Confessions blog. Where you anonymity matters! Annoyed about a character? Like-like a character? Have a head canon that you're admittedly too shy to post on your on blog? Well this is the blog for you! Send a confession in! But first: read over the rules!

RULES

Do NOT harass anyone, whether it's replying to the posts, sending anon hate or messages. I will not stand for it. If you have an issue with someone: block, directly make contact and speak to them in private, or ignore each other. I will not be a messenger bird for drama. 💥 If you want to show evidence about something, feel free to PM me the images/chat logs! Everything will still be kept anonymous. Unless you send death threats to me, gore, or something of that nature: I will call you out on it (unless you're a minor) (Note: If you're concerned about a user in the replies please curate your own experience by blocking them. I only block others if they attack me directly or outed and proven to be not a good person).

Avoid mentioning anyone by name, especially if they are a minor. This about the characters, canons, timelines, and similar aspects. Not to the people behind the screen. (Yes, you may post about your kin-memories, or struggles as a fictive so long as it doesn't involve the fandom related drama. This also not a source call blog as we personally don't believe in source calls or source dating).

No threatening people. This includes things such as: “I want to kill all Clef fans”. Or, "I think (USER) should rot in jail" is also not allowed. And similar. Threatening the characters themselves may be a case by cases basis.

What I share does not truly represent my opinions. This is just an inbox for anonymous confessions. For most asks, I will reply with a "." unless I believe it needs further explanation, or if I feel it warrants me talking.

Keep all confessions SAFE FOR WORK. I will not accept confessions that are in relation to sexual content. While I cannot stop anyone from doing this just note that I will not share them and delete them.

All asks will be anonymous even if you haven't toggled anon on. How? All non-anon comments will turn into separate posts* unless it involves media then I may just send it as is if you're 100% okay with that.

Questions:

"Are you 'Luigi' from the last anon blog?" - No, I'm not Luigi. The original guy. however, does have access to this account, as he did make the account some time ago when he felt right in returning but felt it was best to pass it on to a close friend of his, that being me. Please refer to me as Snippet, my pronouns are he/him!

"When does this blog update?" - I log on this account on the Sunday/Monday typically (or sometimes throughout the week) then I put everyone on queue on a 'three times a day' setting. Then rinse and repeat. This means I will not see any anons or messages regarding anything till said days. I do have a life outside the internet so sometimes I may miss these dates.

"Can we submit posts about Doctor Bright? Or confessions about Shaw, or other rewrites?" - So long as it relates to the character of Bright: Yes! Please, just avoid anything in relation to AdminBright / TheDuckMan, your confession will be deleted if it references them. This blog does not approve of the AB or their horrid actions. Again, keep drama out. Confessions based on Elias Shaw and Rewrites are also allowed so long as you are not harassing the rewrite itself, its creator(s), etc. To me, they all exist, multiple canons/timelines, and what not. They'll be tagged accordingly.

"How many asks can I send at once?" - Multiple, I don't care. Spam the blog!

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - Part 19 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: References to sex. Continued ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Thank you for your patience, my beautiful lil mamas, Part 19 is finally here! We are back in Reader's headspace, and lordy, oh lordy, it's A LOT...just remember, I DID warn and promise y'all pain before a happy ending. And the end is coming soon. 😭 I know, babies, I know. 💖

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Silence.

For the first time in over a week, you aren’t bombarded with images of the past or worries for the future as your subconscious desperately tries to guide you places you are not ready to go to yet. As you stir awake, you feel somewhat rested, peaceful almost. Your eyes flutter open and even though the room is dim, you still squint and hiss at the light that pierces through your eyes and seems to rocket through your head like a spear. You can’t help but groan a little at the pain behind your eyes.

The room is not familiar, however, which sets you on edge, that peacefulness of good sleep draining from you quickly. Frantically, you try to puzzle out where you are and how you got here but thinking sends a wave of nausea through you that you can’t ignore. You groan again at the feeling and crack your eyes open the slightest bit.

A man, first crouched in the uncomfortable looking chair he’s perched in, sits up ramrod straight at your movements. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s a vision to behold. You know without a doubt he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, what with his high cheekbones, lusciously pouty lips, and chiseled jaw covered in what looks to be a day’s worth of dark stubble. Raven hair frames his face, thick sideburns curling at his ears and locks haphazard on his forehead. And those eyes, dear lord, those impossibly long, dark lashes rim his eyes. His eyes, which feel as deep and dark blue as the ocean itself, cut through the fog in your head, widening and looking over you with care and concern.

You know those soulful, familiar eyes anywhere.

Elvis.

You blink and the world starts to snap into focus. Through the pain and nausea, you take in your surroundings. The uncomfortable bed you’re in. The IV in your arm. The dreary paint on the walls. The smell of antiseptic.

The hospital. You are in the hospital.

This must be why Elvis looks positively distraught, his large hand now frantically grasping at yours on the bed. You swear he is shaking, steadied only once he touches you and a wave of relief falls over his handsome yet worried features.

“Y/n. Oh thank God, y/n,” he murmurs. “Are you okay? How do you feel? What do you remember?” he barrages you with questions that you aren’t sure you have the answers to yet, especially with the way your head is pounding so distractingly. For some reason, the whole scene suddenly strikes you as silly, what with the most famous man in the world looking at you so damn seriously. You can’t help yourself.

“Who…who are you?” you croak out quietly, your unused voice cracking.

The look on his face is priceless as he rolls through shock, terror, and dismay all at once. His face falls dramatically then and there is no way you can keep up the pretense because the little boy look that comes over him is just too much.

“Gotcha,” you chuckle, cracking a smile that suddenly makes your face feel like it’s on fire and making you regret your smile instantly.

“You little minx,” he growls, a relieved grin spreading over his face before he sees the pain on your face. “You’re hurtin’. Goddammit, I should’ve killed him…” he mutters heatedly under his breath.

It takes more than a moment to process what he is saying and connect that with the burning tightness of the left side of your face. You bring your hand up slowly, gingerly touching the unfamiliar swollen, hot flesh of your cheek. You can’t help but hiss at the painful sensation that runs over you when you do so.

You close your eyes, feeling Elvis’ heavy but comforting hand squeeze yours.

What in the hell happened?

Reaching back in your memory, you attempt to piece together why you are here, why you are in so much pain. Dread fills your heart as flashes of memory come at you:

Jack accosting you in the bathroom.

Losing his mind at seeing the hickies on your breast.

Him dragging you out and humiliating you in front of everyone.

Then…then…

Oh, god.

Jack did this. He hit you.

Your head falls back, and you cover your eyes with your free hand. A wave of shock, then a wave of deep sadness overcomes you. Hot tears spring to your eyes and spill down your cheeks and you don’t attempt to stop them. The salt of them stings the abrasions on your face.

How could he? How could he?

Sobs wrack your body, each one a pulse of pain through your head, shooting red-hot through you. You knew, you knew deep down it was over, but you never expected it to come to this. You never thought Jack had it in him to truly hurt you. But you are lying in a hospital bed, living proof that the man you once loved was truly gone.

And it feels devastating, yet also strangely relieving, in a way you could’ve never imagined.

“Oh, Satnin, baby. Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” Elvis whispers at you, clutching your hand, his concern evident but unsure.

The wave of devastation crashes over you, both the physical and psychic pain nearly unbearable as it throbs in your head. You feel utterly raw. Humiliated. Gutted. Guilty. Relieved. Furious.

The sudden image of slapping Jack’s face as he knelt bloody on the floor resonates through you, the sting still evident in your palm.

Elvis had almost killed Jack, blinded by a protective rage, you now remember. You’d stopped him.

Part of you wishes you hadn’t.

It all feels quite unreal yet simultaneously overwhelming, all these flashes of memory hitting you in rapid succession. And you know there are more troubling memories waiting in the wings, ready to knock you off your feet once again. You can sense them lingering at the edges of your mind, somehow closer than they have ever been but still just out of reach.

All at once you don’t feel strong enough to bear them.

Everybody knows, you suddenly realize. Your affair with Elvis was now out there for everyone to see, for everyone to judge. You open your tear-filled eyes to look at the beautiful man before you, the one you love so much it feels as though it might destroy you, because god knows you haven’t forgotten that. You cannot bring yourself to regret being with him, no matter if it led you to be here, broken and battered in a hospital bed in Las Vegas.

But something is not right. Something besides the obvious. And it’s right there, just out of view.

Your head hurts too much to dwell on it, however.

“I’m gonna take care of you baby,” Elvis finally says after what you realize is too many moments of silence. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

The way he says it so softly and with such righteous conviction strikes something within you. The clasp of his hand on yours is almost too tight, the look on his face both filled with remorse and determination. You know what he says is true—he will not leave you to face this alone.

Despite this, the uncomfortable elephant in the room lingers: you would not be here if not for Elvis, and you both know it.

But with the pain in your body and the ache in your heart, that is not a mountain you can begin to climb yet. There are too many unanswered questions that you need to figure out and this is not the time or place. So, you let Elvis hold your hand with that mournful look in his churning eyes and you try to heal.

*

“Watch your step, watch your step!” Elvis supports you gingerly, his strong arm holding you at the waist, as if just walking will shatter you into a thousand pieces.

“E, I’m okay. I promise I can walk on my own. It’s just one step,” you say, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone. He’s been hovering as much as possible for the past two days you’ve been under observation at the hospital, only leaving when absolutely necessary to do his two shows a night. He sent the hospital staff into a tizzy with demands for your care while still managing to be charming and effusive to all the employees in a way that only he could get away with.

You’re not sure that he’s slept in the past few days, as he seems obsessed with making sure you are alright. Your pleas for him to go back to the hotel and get some rest fell on deaf ears. Hopefully, now that you’ll be in the hotel, he will relax a little.

While your face is healing, it is still covered in a nasty bruise, which you are reminded of every time Elvis looks at you because the wince that passes over his features, while nearly imperceptible to others, is quite evident to you. It serves to remind you how you got here and how he seemingly thinks him controlling everything about your recovery is going to somehow put you back together and make everything how it was before.

But it’s not like it was before.

Not with the looks that the Mafia are giving you. You can sense their pity, their judgement, their fear. Because Elvis having a known affair with you threatens them all. What if it was their wife or girlfriend? What if Elvis turns on them the way he turned on Jack? Jack was their friend, too. It’s written all over their faces. And you can tell they’ve been put on best behavior because more than usual they defer to Elvis, and they are suddenly wildly uncomfortable around you, even though you’ve been part of the group for years.

You can’t help but feel like the king’s consort. The mistress. The usurper.

The only exceptions are Jerry and Sandy, of course. And Charlie, in his usual Charlie way, has been kind and endearing. But the rest are quiet. Too quiet.

You don’t know what’s happened to Jack. You also haven’t seen Red, though you can’t say you’re upset about it. The few times you tried to ask Elvis, he brushed you off, saying you didn’t need to worry about such things while you’re trying to recover.

All of it has you unsettled. You knew there would be consequences, of course you did, but you didn’t expect it to be this strange.

Thankfully, your headaches are becoming less frequent, but when they do come, they are intense and debilitating, and weirdly, each one brings a host of images and fractured memories that you must try to make sense of. The doctor said this should hopefully get better as your brain heals from the concussion. A full recovery, he said, but it might take some time. Elvis takes this to mean you need constant care, and honestly you don’t have the energy to argue with the man about it right now, so you let him escort you into his bedroom suite as though you are frail and fragile.

“There you go, Satnin, all set,” he says, fluffing the mountain of pillows behind you, and then he gently takes off each of your shoes. You lean back with a sigh, suddenly grateful for the comfort of his huge bed in his penthouse suite because that hospital bed was truly terrible.

“Maybe you wanna to get into your pajamas?” he suggests. “I had all your things brought up, but I also went ahead and bought you some things, since I know you hadn’t planned on being here this long, and—” he rambles. The look on his face is almost childlike in his need to please you, to take care of you. It is quite the adjustment after spending a week basking in his masculine sexual dominance.  You aren’t complaining at this change in him; in fact, it reminds you of when you first met, of those early years. It’s just giving you a bit of whiplash.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m fine for now,” you interrupt, trying to keep your tone light. Bringing your hand up, you pinch the bridge of your nose as another headache threatens. Overly attuned to you, Elvis grabs one of your feet and starts rubbing, using his strong hands to knead deep into the sole of your foot.

The hurts-so-good feeling has you groaning and your head falling back onto the pillows.

“That feel good, mama?” he drawls quietly.

All you can do is nod and hum in response. You’re certain if this had happened a few days ago, that statement, this action, would be laced with a fierce sexual energy. You imagine that it would last only a minute before he pounced and worked you into a state of pleasurable bliss. That latent desire is still there—you can sense it—but with everything that has happened, it takes a backseat to your pain.

This both saddens you and makes you feel grateful. You covet your sexual relationship with him, as it is the definitive thing you know he wants and needs from you. You know this for sure, and with your ever-present uncertainty about the rest of your relationship, it makes you feel off-kilter to not be able to share that with him. However, his commitment to being by your side despite the lack of sex, has been somewhat reassuring. You desperately hope it’s not just a sense of guilt that keeps him here with you.

You sigh, your eyes falling shut, and relish in the feel of his hands on you in such a comforting way as he treats one foot, then the other, to this intimate treatment. But he is uncharacteristically quiet.

He practically has you in a stupor by the time he finishes with the second foot, managing to stave off your impending headache. Opening your eyes, you catch him looking at you, those deep blues of his taking on a darker hue in the dim lighting. You can see the wheels turning, the way his hand flexes and releases over his tailored pants, how he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

“What is it, E?” you ask gently, almost afraid it might spook him.

“I-I-I…can I hold you?” he stutters, changing tactics midway to get the sentence out, betraying his nerves.

“Of course, baby,” you respond quietly.

“I-I just don’t want to hurt you,” he says, crawling up the comforter to lie next to you. “Are ya sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” you say, as he curls into you, his arm coming over you.

All at once, you are flooded with memory. Your teenage bedroom. Your single bed. Elvis nestling close into your side, his cheeks still salty with tears. The way your heart races at his proximity and the way his touch, though innocent, burns through you like wildfire. His breath warm on your neck, tickling your bare skin.

He shows up on your doorstep such a mess, coming to you, of all people. You don’t quite understand it. (You’re still not sure you understand it—why it’s you, of all people, at that point in his life, that he’d chosen to come to.)

You fall into caring for him so easily, like it is second nature to run your fingers through his hair and massage his back as he cries in your lap, even though you’ve never touched him like this, so intimately, before. When he asks to stay, those bedroom eyes of his begging, your heart leaps in a way you are ashamed of. Your entire body feels on fire, flustering you as you consider the implications, consider just how badly you do want him to stay, and if it’s worth it to see where this might go.

It only gets worse when you find him stripped down to his underwear, waiting for you innocently in your bedroom, a place no man has stayed before. Your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him sitting there, exhausted and emotionally spent. Before you take him into your bed, he’s so good in reassuring you he would never hurt you, that he won’t touch you like that. Of course, he wouldn’t; you know this. But your trepidation isn’t because you are afraid he’ll take advantage of you—it is because part of you wants him to.

The memory makes you blush furiously. Yet another important moment you had buried so deep that remembering it now makes it feel like it just happened.

After the initial tension of him being curled so close into you wanes, you relax and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Oh, how you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, the musky scent and heat of him surrounding you as he holds on to you through the night. You wake up multiple times, thinking you must be dreaming that Elvis is in your bed, but are pleasantly surprised to really find him there, his warm, lean, young body pressing into yours in various ways. The moonlight through the window lets you see just how innocently beautiful and vulnerable he is like this, like some kind of angel not of this world, his long lashes falling over his cheeks. You feel grateful to see him this way, tucking the moment away in your mind. Despite the rollercoaster of hormones coursing through you, you’ve never felt so safe before, not with Ted, not with any man.

Or felt so aroused. That terrified you, you think, as the wave of feeling crashes over you in the present. You want him with an intensity that shocks you to your core. But he is your friend, for god’s sake, and he’d come to you upset and trusted you to help him, and here you are, suddenly lusting after him like every other girl on the planet. Oh, yes, you are so very ashamed of yourself, for the dirty thoughts you’re thinking.

But, oh, how you imagine him waking to kiss you passionately, willing him to touch you everywhere, wanting him to run his long, calloused fingers up under your nightgown and into your panties. Thinking that, in an instant, he could easily slide between your legs, and you would let him. You’ll gladly give yourself to him right this minute if he wants you. You screw your eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block out the image of him slowly entering you, joining with you, rocking you into submission, into ecstasy.

Back then, those thoughts were more dangerous than anything, especially when the man in question was in your bed already, holding you close. It was a different time, and at nineteen, you were young and bound by propriety, and yet, in that moment, you hadn’t cared about that part.

But it is Elvis. Your dear friend. He doesn’t think of you that way. He’s on the brink of stardom and already has half the country fawning over him, with girlfriends in every town. You know this, logically. You know this, but for the first time, you allow yourself to think that maybe there is more to the two of you than just friendship. That maybe there is a reason he’d come to you in his hour of need.

A wave of heartache rolls through you as you recall that next morning. You blearily wake up from your fitfully aroused but somehow comforting slumber to him pulling you close, pressing the front of his body into the back of yours. The heat of him permeates through the thin cotton of your nightgown, which is quite a pleasing sensation in the cold of this late-winter morning. You sigh and wiggle back into him instinctually, before you can think too much on it, just needing to be closer to him. But then he jumps out of the bed in a flash, as if you were on fire, scurrying to clothe himself, and then he practically leaps out the window to get away from you.

He didn’t want you. Of course, he didn’t want you. He probably regrets the whole thing, with the way he leaves you lying there. He is Elvis Presley, after all. Your friend, but nothing more. You’d been foolish to think it anything more.

His abrupt absence leaves you cold, tears welling in your eyes, yearning for something you know you could never have from him (or so you’d thought, at the time). You pull the covers over your head, the scent of him on your sheets enveloping you. The grease he used in his hair left a stain on your pillow, but you don’t care in the slightest because it is something tangible, something that lets you know him holding you through the night had been real and not a dream.

Now it hits you suddenly that—oh, god—that was the day Jack had asked you out for the first time. You’d been sad all day, trying to push Elvis out of your mind and Jack had shown up at the diner, suddenly quite brazen in his attraction to you. While you weren’t entirely surprised, as the two of you had been dancing around each other for some time, the timing of it helped bring you out of your funk, reminding you that in the real world, a good man like Jack wanted you.

You’d quickly accepted because you liked Jack and there was no reason not to.

Elvis Presley was just your friend, after all.

Now you realize that in that short 24-hour period, the trajectory of your entire life changed. Maybe you’d fallen into Jack’s arms so quickly because Elvis’ rejection had upset you more than you wanted to admit. It had been easier and more realistic to date Jack, and it had taken your mind off the unwanted thoughts you had for Elvis.

Oh, no.

The intense discovery of this long-hidden memory and the emotions to go with it rocket through your skull with a shooting pain, causing you to hiss. Tears flood your eyes, from both the ache in your heart and the pain in your head.

“Baby, you okay? What can I do?” Elvis shoots his head up, noticing your distress, looking you over carefully.

You can’t explain, not now. “Bad headache,” you breathe out instead. “Can you get my medicine?” You didn’t want to take pain meds if you could help it, but in this moment, everything, pain and otherwise, is too overwhelming and you think maybe you just need some sleep.

So, you take the pill he gives you gratefully. You try not to think about how the way he looks at you now has that same boyish quality it had all those years ago when you’d taken him into your bed and into your arms, and he’d left you cold.

It’s okay, you think. He’s here now, taking care of me. He wants me now, even if he didn’t then.

And with that, you drift aimlessly away into welcome darkness.

*

Everything is fuzzy, the dull ache in your head muddling the flashes that are floating to the surface in your dreams.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

Not Elvis now, you think, Elvis a long, long time ago.

But that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t kiss Elvis until two weeks ago.

He’s so sad, though, so alone. He needs you, he needs you, he needs you…

And you need him.

But it’s wrong, all wrong. And so right, all at once. Your body tingles through the ache in your head as you ever-so-gently press your lips to his. You’ve wondered for so long what he tastes like.

Soft and sweet, like marshmallows.

His bright blue eyes widen with shock.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this…” he whispers. The words echo and swirl around you.

He’s right, isn’t he? You can’t want this. You shouldn’t. Of course not…

You’re so angry, so sad, and he’s so beautiful.

Elvis. Your Elvis.

No, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not.

He belongs to no one. He belongs to the world.

Need pulses through you, a need so deep it brings you to your knees. It cuts through the pain in your head. It singes through your heart.

It’s unbearable.

It burns through you, from the inside out.

Those eyes, deep as the ocean, rimmed in black, plunder your soul. You ride the swell of the waves in them as they rise higher and higher and higher until they shatter underneath you.

The fall is blissful and terrifying, all at once, but Elvis is with you the whole way.

Free falling through the abyss, you are scared. It’s never-ending. You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom, and the anticipation of it runs like ice through your veins.

Guilt. Shame. That ache in your chest.

And then you hit bottom.

*

Your eyes pop open with a shuddering gasp. Gripping the sheets for dear life, you frantically try to piece out where you are, that you are not falling anymore.

Just a dream. Just a crazy, medication induced dream, you pray, seeing that you are in the darkened suite in Elvis’ penthouse.

But the unease remains, lurking more visibly now in the corners of your mind, trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear. Something you don’t want to see.

The door to the bedroom slowly opens and you jump, a hand flying over your chest in surprise. Elvis strides in quietly, clad in his white gi jumpsuit, sweat pouring over him. He must have just finished a show.

You had been asleep a while.

You are still amazed at how his presence fills a room, even when it’s just you here, even when there is no one to impress. He looks gorgeous and you know he’s riding the post-show high by the way his eyes sparkle and by the flush of his cheeks.

“You’re awake, baby. How’re ya feeling?” he asks, gliding over to you on those long legs of his.

You are still reeling from the dream. You shake your head, trying to clear that feeling of dread, of falling, and as he sits on the bed next to you, you are sucked into those oceanic eyes once again.

Your heart races.

“Are you okay?” He looks concerned, brushing your sweaty locks off your forehead, thumb grazing your cheek.

“Are you okay? he whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek. You sit still in his lap, saying nothing and can feel him begin to soften inside of you, the wetness of spent arousal leaking down your thighs under your dress…

The flash of memory hits you hard, because it was then, not now. Triggered by the same gesture, the same man, but it was a different time. He looked so young…

But that’s impossible. Impossible. The first time you had sex with Elvis was less than two weeks ago.

Your heart thunders in your chest because suddenly you don’t think that’s true.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, kiss the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, and then, with a strange boldness, you kiss his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

His pants scratch at your bare thighs as you straddle his narrow hips. His tongue explores your mouth, sending searing heat through you. Boldly, you rock in his lap, feeling him grow underneath you.

You need him, oh, god, how you need him.

The flashes aren’t complete, but they are real. You are suddenly so sure that they are, and you don’t understand, not at all. You look at Elvis now, wild-eyed, silently seeking answers. How? How?

His long fingers are cold as they part your wet folds, and he pushes one, then another deep into your heat while his thumb massages that ever-sensitive bundle of nerves at the front. It stings at first, this surprising intrusion, but he’s gentle, letting you adjust around him, letting you decide when to move.

Your breath is coming fast now, and Elvis looks more than concerned.

“Satnin, what’s happenin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, eyes searching you.

You screw your eyes shut. This can’t be real. It can’t be.

You sink down on him slowly, the tightness of your canal stretching around his considerable size as you try to take him all in. It’s easier now, after he prepped you with his fingers, and the discomfort wanes quickly as you bottom out. He’s hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed until this very moment.

Elvis looks utterly ethereal as you begin to ride him, his mouth open and pink, his freshly dyed raven hair falling in his eyes. Everything about him looks carved out by the gods, and his eyes drink you in in a way that strips you bare, right to the heart of you. He looks at you as though you hung the moon and the stars.

Those eyes are now looking at you in a panic.

He brings you to the brink easily and you crest the wave hard, your orgasm fracturing you into a thousand pieces as you fall. You’d never felt this way before, not with Ted, not with Jack, not even with yourself. The pleasure of it rips through you and he follows quickly, a warm, sticky heat pulsing deep as you cling to each other for dear life.

Oh. Oh god…

It was real. You know it now. You are more sure of it now than you’ve ever been.

Graceland, you realize suddenly, when he took you to see Graceland for the first time. That’s where it happened. Nineteen-fucking-fifty-seven.

Elvis and you had sex, a long, long time ago. And he kept it from you. Pretended it never even happened.

You push away from him and stagger off the bed in daze, flooded with so many emotions and sensations at once that you don’t know how to react. Dizzy, you sway a bit on your feet.

Flashes keep hitting you as you move. Waking in the hospital, not knowing how you’d gotten there. Elvis, worried at your bedside. The pills. The accidental overdose.

You think you might be sick.

“What the hell is happenin’? You’re scarin’ me. Talk to me, baby,” Elvis says from behind you. He feels so far away, but that deep seeded need to flee him is rolling through you and you walk unsteadily forward, though you aren’t sure exactly where you are trying to go.

Oh, he must have been so relieved when you didn’t remember anything about that night. That he didn’t have to take back what he’d—you’d—done. That it didn’t completely derail his friendship with you or Jack. That he got to keep being Elvis without any repercussions.

Twelve years. Over a decade built on lies and half-truths and pretending.

Tears are streaming down your burning cheeks now. You feel humiliated. Shocked at both yourself and at him. You’d cheated on Jack, with Elvis. It didn’t matter that Jack had cheated first. You’d had feelings for Elvis all the way back then, feelings you acted on in a moment of vulnerability for both of you. He’d been devastated about June, scared about his fame. You’d wanted to comfort him, but you had also wanted to prove to yourself that if a man like Elvis Presley could want you, then of course Jack should.

You’d thrown yourself at him. He didn’t stop you. And then he lied to you about it all.

If you’d have remembered…Christ, the repercussions would’ve been life altering.

Elvis grabs you then, in the present, his hot, long, ring-clad fingers circling your arm, pulling you back towards him.

And it is then that your anguish fully turns to anger. After everything that has happened these past two weeks, these past fourteen years…Suddenly, that sense of betrayal, your seeming lack of control of anything in your life, all the fear of the past, present, and future, pushes you to the brink. You feel done being at the mercy of the universe, done at being at the mercy of the lies and whims of men.

“Take your fucking hand off me, Elvis,” you hiss, venom in your glare.

You watch as his brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise, and with that, he releases you.

“Is this all a game to you?” you ask pointedly, voice shaking under the weight of your simmering fury.

“W-what?” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t emphasize enough that I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me for years,” you throw at him. A fueled rage clouds your judgement. You are quickly becoming unhinged and near irrational, but you are unable to stop it, almost like you are possessed, out of your mind, and watching your unusual behavior from afar. It’s as though a part of you wants to blow all of this up and you are powerless to stop this destructive side of yourself.

Elvis throws his hands up in surrender and begins to turn away. “That concussion has you bein’ all crazy, honey. I don’t even know—”

“That day at Graceland, right before you bought it. When I accidentally took too many pills for my headache. You know the one, don’t you?” you interrupt scathingly.

He stops and looks back at you, that pretty brow furrowing, and you think you can sense his panic truly brewing now. “I-I-I thought ya didn’t remember nothin’ about that afternoon.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” You think now you do, but you have to be sure. “You were awfully upset that day because of June, weren’t you? Going on and on about how you’d never know if a women would truly love you. And, come to think of it, you never did tell me how it was that I fell asleep,” you add, turning the knife with both curiosity and fervor, glaring at him.

His eyes truly widen now, his pouty mouth popping open and then shuttering closed again, his pallor turning pale.

And there you have your answer. You are not supposed to know this. He’d told you about June all over again after you’d left the hospital because you hadn’t remembered him telling you at Graceland. But he definitely hadn’t told you again about his insecurity of not knowing if a woman would love him for who he really is.

It’s all true.

That realization is horrible and vindicating and almost relieving all at once. You weren’t wrong when that voice in your head was telling you he was keeping something important from you. You weren’t crazy. And you even think this isn’t all he’s been hiding, but you can’t go there now. It’s too heavy a punch to the gut, and all you see is red.

A frantic, small voice in your head tries to remind you that you should consider Elvis’ feelings about that day, how he was vulnerable and frightened when he couldn’t wake you, and that your concussion has you not in your right mind and missing pieces of all this, but your rage kicks those thoughts aside and you plow forward anyway. You have too many unanswered questions.

“We had sex, Elvis. In 1957! How could you…how dare you then pretend it never happened! How could you not tell me?!” you scream at him, in a way that is utterly unlike the passive and quiet woman you’d become over the years. The woman who had learned to cower instead of speaking up for herself. The stubbornness and fire from your youth flares, driving you forward recklessly. It hurts your head to do it, but you can’t help it.

Elvis just stands there, staring, silent, using that well-honed talent of his to make his beautiful, godlike face an unreadable mask. It kills you inside, but you wait, unwilling to let him off the hook. But he still does not speak.

“Did it even mean anything to you?” you then ask quietly, tears prickling your eyes again, “Or was I just another notch on your bedpost?”

He blinks slowly and presses his lips together, and your heart sinks because you can’t tell if being with him so intimately meant anything to him at all. You should be able to tell, but you can’t, not when he’s shutting you out like this. And that deepest fear being realized both destroys you and pisses you off even more.

Finally, Elvis breaks his silence, voice low and measured and too careful for him, like he’s reciting lines in a movie, “It wasn’t…You were high. Your judgement was impaired. I was mortified...” He trails off, looking away. Then he pauses, taking a deep breath before challenging you with his intense eyes, “And would tellin’ you have changed anythin’?”

You choke at that and shake your head as you turn away from him. The words linger in the air, and you are irate at them, at him. They whirl within you, stabbing you in their coldness. He was mortified by being with you. Good god. The wound of that cracks through you like ice shattering.

You know deep down you didn’t sleep with him because you were accidentally high. You are certain of it. It wasn’t just about getting back at Jack, or just about feeling attractive and desired. No, it was so much more than that. After remembering what you have, you know you’d given yourself to Elvis willingly, medication or no, doing something you’d sworn after Ted that you wouldn’t do again until marriage.

He presses you on this, this thing you can’t believe he’s asking. “Would it’ve? You were with Jack, you loved Jack. And I’d just gotten home and was leavin’ again just as fast. What would’ve it changed, y/n, other than to make things awkward between us and ruin our friendship? Other than to ruin what you had with Jack?” Elvis asks from behind you, his gravelly voice strained.

You’re shaking now, your whole being quaking with physical and emotional toil, another headache slamming down upon you. Yes, you’d loved Jack, you truly had. And you know you’ve fallen in love with Elvis these past few weeks. But all of this craziness—these revelations, these secrets, these memories—are finally confirming something your mind has been trying to tell you lately about all those years ago, something you suspected and feared, but didn’t want to admit:

You have been in love with Elvis since the beginning. You had loved him then just as you love him now. And if you had remembered that, if he’d wanted it, if he had asked you, at any point, you think would’ve dropped everything for him.

Even if it would’ve ruined you both.

A bile of panic rises in your throat because, besides the times you truly can’t remember because you’d literally been dying, there had been all those other moments throughout the years where you’d pushed down your love for him. Important pieces of your life that you’d just forgotten, sometimes right away, in order to spare yourself the pain of this realization, the pain of Elvis’ rejection.

Maybe it started in the diner when he comforted you after Ted broke your heart, or maybe it began even earlier because god knows you can’t trust yourself or your memory. In fact, you are quite sure that there are still things he’s keeping from you, pivotal things you still don’t remember and it’s maddening. But after the diner, it feels like every moment you repressed is a missing piece to the puzzle of your life and reminder of how everything has gone so completely wrong.

Oh, and isn’t it rich that you are laying into him about keeping this naughty little tryst from you when you’ve been conveniently forgetting all these crucial moments of your relationship over your lifetime, a logical voice in the back of your head hurls at you.

Fuck you, you throw back, dread seeping through you.

And now your deepest fears are confirmed—Elvis hadn’t wanted you, not like that. He was mortified by it, in fact. He had a taste of you in a moment of weakness, because he’s just a man after all, and got lucky when you didn’t remember. Thinking better of it, he kept it all to himself. All these years, he’d lied by omission. And for some goddamned reason, he’d swung back around to you after all this time, destroying your life as you knew it in the process.

You spin back around to face him. Nausea rolls in your stomach because, suddenly, you’re not sure you know the man in front of you at all.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything,” you say vehemently, honestly, leveling him with your stare.

And it looks like you just slapped him by the way he recoils.

You can’t stop yourself from digging deeper, too angry to care, “But I’m sure that’s not what you wanted, since you were so quick to decide that I didn’t need to know, so fucking cocksure that you didn’t even deem to ask what I wanted. No, you just got laid and got lucky and moved right on to the next girl.”

“Th-that’s not—“ he sputters, those azure eyes a little frantic.

“Isn’t it, though, Elvis? Isn’t that exactly what happened? We fucked and you decided it was a bad idea, so you didn’t bother to tell me when I couldn’t remember myself. Who cares what I thought, right?! Then you went on with your life as though nothing happened.”

As if it hadn’t mattered at all, as though you hadn’t mattered enough to bother. You can’t bring yourself to say that part, though, as the icy pain of saying the rest out loud like this sends more tears pouring down your cheeks, despite your anger wanting to keep them at bay.

As if the rest isn’t bad enough, another thought hits you sideways, “My god, you even pushed Jack to marry me, didn’t you?” You look at him incredulously, remembering how Jack had joked about it after he’d proposed. The words ache through you as you say them, as you realize the implications of that. Yet another one of your deepest fears confirmed.

Elvis looks stricken as he backs up to the bed and sinks down on the edge, putting his head in his hands.

“I-I-I w-was no good for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t get to decide that, Elvis! You took those choices away from me!” you cry at him.

You watch as he holds his tongue, as his body stiffens at your words. His jaw clenches and his breathing changes. You know the signs by now, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s getting ready to explode and that it’s you pushing him over the edge. You want him over the edge. You want him to care enough to be mad about it.

“And what? Did you finally decide after twelve years that maybe you did like my pussy after all, so you decided to come back for more?” you spit at him nastily, driving him right over the threshold.

“I was protecting you!” Elvis bellows, leaping to his feet, face red with anger. His eyes darken and flash in a way that might have caused you to pause before, but not today, not after this.

You don’t let up. “Protecting me from what exactly? A bad marriage? A man that doesn’t love me?” you laugh haughtily at the irony.

He doesn’t elaborate, just bites his tongue in frustration and glowers at you, pulling himself back.

Then, another sinking realization drags you under. “Good lord—you had your hands in my relationship with Jack every step of the way. From day fucking one. You pushed us onto each other, a-a-and then you took him away from me, over and over again. The women Jack ‘dated’…Jesus, that was when he went to Vegas to see you that first time, wasn’t it? Of course. I should’ve known that’s when he started fucking other women. Because of you,” you point at him, more fury boiling in your stomach as you ramble.

God, was it all lies and subterfuge? Every fucking thing in your life related to these men?

Elvis stands there, jaw gritted so hard he might crack his veneers, his hands fisted at his sides, his leg going a million miles an hour. But you don’t stop.

“And then you came back home to find me upset, pretended like you didn’t know why, and then you fucked me?” The memories come to you too quickly, too painfully, fractured moments flashing in your aching head, weaving back together what you’d lost for so long, fueling your pain, fueling you forward. “And that was just the beginning. You sucked Jack and me both into your world, then played with our lives because…why? Why, E?” you demand.

Still, he says nothing, eyes fierce and his body vibrating with energy, letting you continue your verbal assault.

Your heart is going so fast you fear it’s going to explode, but you continue anyway, knowing that this isn’t like you, that perhaps this isn’t truly what you want. I love him, don’t I? But you are so mad, so exhausted from feeling like a plaything in the lives of the men around you, that you can’t stop. They’ve treated you as if you have no agency of your own. As if you were nothing without them. And you are done.

You shake your head. “You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit. Nobody can be happy unless the King is happy, right? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss, beside yourself with anger at him, on what he’d done to your life. In this moment, your love for him is entirely consumed by your rage, as your addled and bruised brain tries to piece together just how screwed up this entire situation is.

Elvis roars then and sweeps everything off the nightstand, sending things shattering and flying to the floor. You do your best not to wince at the outburst, unwilling to let him shake you. Then, he looks at you, like a caught, caged beast, his chest heaving and eyes dangerous. But he isn’t blacked out, and you know it because you can see the gears working in his head. You can see that the emotion in his face is not anger alone. There is a deep pain there and it confuses you.

Dread settles into a knot in your stomach because suddenly you can’t shake that terrible feeling that you are still missing something vital here, something both Elvis and your traitorous brain are keeping from you, but your head is pounding and your blood is up and you can’t think straight.

You stand toe-to-toe, staring at each other, chests heaving in the heavy silence.

He breaks first, but with an almost frightening level of clarity that you don’t expect after his outburst. “Fine. Y-you w-w-wanna make me th-the-the villain in this story, then fine, I-I’m th-the fucking villain, honey. I-I-I always w-was,” he stutters wildly, cutting, his stormy eyes narrowing like a crocodile as he levels you with them.

He doesn’t deny any of it. He doesn’t even defend himself anymore.

You don’t know what to do with that.

All you know is you hurt. Everything aches, inside and out. You feel like an absolute fool. You are infuriated with him and maybe even more furious at yourself. Then, your heart breaks, sending a wave of sorrow flooding through your chest and down your limbs.

Everything with Jack was bad.

Somehow, this is worse.

It feels like your entire world has been pulled from underneath your feet. The devastation you felt about Jack feels like nothing now compared to Elvis’ betrayal, and the weight of both together is crushing you from all angles.

There is no escape. You can’t breathe.

Somehow, you’ve lost them both. Or maybe you never really had either of them to begin with.

You silly, stupid girl. I tried to warn you.

You manage to hold back the sob that threatens to break you.

Wordlessly, you nod, clench your fists, then turn and walk out.

Elvis doesn’t stop you.

*

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 

Reblogs, likes, tips, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

[allycat75]

I don't know why, but I still hope there is time for you, Boston Dumb Fuck. I hope you deserve the consideration and kindness still offered you.

Despite what you may think, I am actually rooting for you. I think you got tangled up in something nefarious that was bigger than you thought and didn't have the proper people around you or the coping skills to get you out. But the decisions and their ensuing consequences are still your own, so let me remind you why I am here and why I will continue to push you (not that I think you are reading my posts. I am just screaming into a void):

You roped us all into this by trying to convince us you are happy in a relationship when it is obvious to almost anyone you don't like her. You maybe thought you were helping the cause by doing a bad job, but that act to save yourself came crashing down on your observant fans, hard. Because when we pointed out the many obvious inconsistencies, we were branded as crazy and jealous. Then there is the gaslighting with changing timelines, photoshopped pictures, sightings and non-sightings, poorly acted jump scares and general mindfuckery. You can't now un-invite us to the party because you don't like what we are saying about the ambiance, like a spoiled brat at her Sweet Sixteen celebration. We will defend ourselves from lies and manipulation and not accept the labels of "unhinged", "bully", "crusty old hag", "mentally unstable" or "delulu" (among others)

She is an awful person and by tying yourself to her like this you implicitly approve of her racism, antisemitism, fatshaming, arrogance, clout-chasing and entitlement, forever. That hypocrisy cannot go unnoticed considering your former stances on these subjects and your role as the face of ASP. The site may be useless and bland on its own, but politics is full of people talking out of both sides of their mouths, and you have made the platform potentially polarizing at a time when we need serious, clear discussions with no distractions

The fact that you look absolutely miserable and discuss your life as if it is not your own is more than a little unnerving. This is in no way to shame you, but rather out of a genuine concern for your safety and why you did this to yourself when you had every opportunity provided (hence, the "Dumb Fuck"). You have talent, but are wasting it on brain-dead pap because you seem afraid of depth and unearthing something blocked deep within your psyche

Show how your behavior parallels the issues of the world at large and how we accept things we shouldn't. We have kept quiet about unchecked privlege, intent vs. impact, performative activism, being child-like vs. childish, ageism, greed, mental illness and wellness, the power and weaponry of sexuality, toxic masculinity and misogyny, generational wealth, integrity, alternative facts and emotional truths, misinformation and disinformation, value placed on hard work, attributes of healthy relationships, preciousness of time, and the effects we have on our fellow mortals, all of which has got us to now, on the brink of societal destruction. And we see this epitomized in the microcosm of your shitshow

And I don't care if this is just how it is done in Hollywood. It shouldn't be- it's dumb, dangerous, unethical and doesn't work. Movies used to not have sound and Harvey the Hutt used to be a free and powerful man. Things evolve!

So please do better and until you do, I will be supporting you and calling you out on your shit. It's called tough love, and it may not be for everyone, but it is the tactic I am using for now. Anyone who disagrees has every right to block and/or ignore me. The only one I wish to debate any of this with is the BDF himself, and he ain't listening.

[krikeymate]

Hello lovely person :) I’m not sure if someone asked this before but I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it. I was wondering about what if we’ve gotten a younger Tara while everything else stayed the same? So similar to your 5 years late AU, but it’s not quite 5 years because that might be a bit much to keep things like they play out in canon.

Let’s say Tara is 16 when the first attack happens. Sam still used to babysit Mindy, Chad, Wes etc. even if they’re a bit older than Tara and that’s why she’s friends with them. They’re not in the same grade but the friendship stuck.

So everything still plays out like it did in 5, with maybe a bit more of a focus on why Christina isn’t showing up as Tara’s still a minor here.

How do you think things would continue after the movie? Would Sam stay in Woodsboro with Tara for years, until she finishes school? Would she try to gain custody for Tara so she can take her out of that town earlier, or maybe even just to get her away from Christina’s obvious neglect? Would she manage to get custody? Would Tara even want that?

I’ve been playing around with this idea in my head for a while now and I might actually start writing a fiction in this setting one day (probably not, I still have too many unfinished (Wednesday) stories on ao3 -.-), but you’re my favorite „scream fandom person“ so I’m curious to see if you have any thoughts on this. If you don’t, that’s fine, too :) Please don’t feel pressured to reply!

Hope you had or are having a good day! <3

Man I had the hardest time working out a timeline for this, so the friend group are born in 2004 which makes them 18 when the attack happens. I had to decide whether to make Tara 16 nearly 17, or 15 nearly 16. I decided to keep 16 nearly 17 even though I felt a year younger would be more appropriate, because baby. Tara's born late 2005. God, me and my compulsive need to be very specific about timelines.

In the five years late AU, Tara is 14 when their version of 5 happens, but there's a lot of focus on explaining why Sam wouldn't leave.

So let's look at why she still would. Christina's not the absolute worst to Tara here. She's not the best, and she's got her problems, but she's not actively awful. Sam's 8 when Tara is born. She's 5 when Sam finds the diary at 13. She's 10 when Sam leaves at 18. Sam loves her little sister so much, but she can't get her mother's words out of her head. The fear that she'll hurt her baby sister is too much, she has to get out of there. Tara's still so young, she'll forget about her, she tells herself. In a few years, she won't ever remember she had a sister. That would be for the best, Sam tells herself.

The twins + Wes start babysitting Tara instead, after all, Sam was younger than them when she babysat them. Despite the couple of years age difference between them, they stay friends and they all look out for Tara once she starts high school. (You'd think having cool senior friends would make her more popular, it doesn't.)

Sam's pretty horrified when she comes back and finds out that their mother isn't even here, doesn't intend to be here, and that she disappears frequently. It's ok, Tara tells her, I stay with my friends a lot. Sam's screaming that's not okay!!! in her head, but maintains a straight face and just leaves a lingering kiss on her sister's head.

Sam tries to get custody over Tara, she fights for it - she wants to take her away, get her out of this place - but the courts say no. They declare that Tara was old enough to be left alone at the time of the incident, that there's no evidence of neglect or abuse, they ignore the testimony of the Meeks-Martins that it's been going on for years (well why didn't you report it years ago, they chime back). She's almost 18 anyway, they say, then she'll be free to go where she pleases.

The twins go off to college. They wanted to stay local, to keep an eye on Tara, she convinces them to go, that she'll be fine. Sam promises them that she's not going anywhere, never again. Sam stays.

Her mother won't let her into her home, but her mother is rarely there. Sam rents somewhere dirt cheap and barely stays there.

Tara has a hard time knowing how to be around her sister again. She still remembers her so clearly, unlike her father who she doesn't remember at all. Sam's a little harder, she doesn't smile or laugh as freely, but she still feels the same. Tara doesn't feel the same at all. There's a part of her that's scared that Sam will leave again once she realises her sister is just a stranger to her now. She doesn't know how to bridge that gap.

But that's ok, because Sam keeps trying to anyway. She holds her through her breakdowns, and tells her she loves her, and apologises at night when she thinks Tara's asleep.

You should totally work on this idea, it's a really cool one!! And hey, you don't have to upload anything until you're ready to upload it. Work on things in your own time, the people who want to read it (me) will still be there ready and waiting for when you do.

[officialjohnjones]

Hello, Tumblr! John Jones here, you may have heard of me. Formerly an Agent of the IO. Some even call me a legend. I captained the forces of the island against Doom, and now I stand ready against whatever threat might rear its head next, as leader of the Reality Warriors.

I keep tabs on the island, so if you need help, feel free to ask. I'm always ready to fight the good fight!

Just don't send me weird stuff, don't insult Peely, and we'll be square, cool?

TAGS:

Captain Jones Journal: In Character Posting

Jones Reblogs: Reblogs

Jones Ask Answered: In Character Asks

//OOC Post: Out of Character Posting

Note: I'll also be tagging posts as "Open" or "Closed" depending on whether or not they're free for anyone to reply to.

OOC Rules, Headcanons, Etc

Rules:

1. No NSFW Asks or Comments. I will not respond, and if I find it necessary, I will block you.

2. I'd appreciate hard language being kept to a minimum. This isn't a hard rule, but Jones will call you out on it if needed. He's a Cap now, he's gotta be a role model!

3. I do take acting in character seriously, so I will interact or not based on how I feel Jones would. That said, he is a pretty funny guy, and has watched from the outside of this world for long enough that he may be a bit meta sometimes.

4. I am an adult. Just to be absolutely clear and upfront. I don't mind chatting if you're a minor, but let's keep everything PG, and I will end the conversation if it gets too off-color.

5. IMPORTANT: I reserve the right to refuse to acknowledge any RP, ask or response, if I feel it doesn't fit with the world I've crafted around Jones. This includes character's going "godmode" attempts to kill Jones, etc. For big events, please try to work with me beforehand so we can both have fun.

Headcanon Information:

The idea is that I'm playing the original Jones. The guy who joined the IO, defected to help the Seven, rebooted the timeline at Slone's behest, joined the Underground with Hope, and is now Reality Zero 's Captain America.

1. We're told that his original reality is super unsafe, which is why he joined the IO to protect his family. I'm taking this to mean that the Jonesy in Save the World is who he was-- a Soldier alongside Ramirez and them who ended up protecting Homebase.

2. He joined the IO, and was one of their most loyal agents until the Zero Crisis. He couldn't ignore his conscience when he saw the state of the island, and defected to help protect the loopers.

3. Really, really misses his family, the Seven, and the other people who he's lost. It's why he's so attached to Peely and Hope.

4. Always has to be the hero. It's a strength and a flaw that Slone called out during the Cube Queen event. He's stepping back a bit to let Hope take that role, but it's still getting to him a bit.

[misc-obeyme]

I think i forgot to add context on the song I linked. my worde aren't working to even form a proper sentence and IDK why it happens because his story is fully fleshed out :( (<lie)

lets ignore the song is about lovecraft m'kay,, I just love Aviators & their songs are Barbatos headcanon & om au fuel ـ

It's about future visions both Sharo (my mc) & Barbatos have since they share the same power (being a reality warper, but like, Sharo's is way weaker) :<

and the visions aren't only visual imo, they can be smells, tastes, sounds,, anything. even as far as shbconsciously not walking over an area. they can be very vague to very vivid. (ex. not walking over smth can have a varity of meanings like a tiny prop there or a dead body or a large dangerous pit while the visions can be as vivid as the realoty they're in.)

the song talks about voices and Sharo had these "hallucinations" from childhood. the doctors diagnosed him with schizophrenia and Barbatos didn't really,, look too much into his hallucinations (and Sharo was coping lol) until they both heard something. Barbatos realized it was from another timeline and was about to go on with his day, but seeing Sharo flinching made him realized he has also heard it too which makes him curious about the "human" who was mistakenly brought to the devildom lol

I have no idea how to talk about them. more op mcs please

Ohhh that all sounds super interesting!

Okay, so Sharo has visions (though this can be basically through any sense) from other timelines and Barbatos figures out that Sharo is like him because they both hear something from another timeline.

The fact you've got human in quotes makes me think Sharo must not be fully human? Is this at all related to Lilith's angel DNA or is it something different?

And what does Barbatos do once he figures out that Sharo has the same power as him? I mean, he's gotta be curious I bet he doesn't run into that ever.

I hope Barbatos tells him about it so that Sharo realizes the truth about what's happening. I suspect that'd be kind of a relief to finally understand why he's having those visions and things.

Of course you needn't answer any of my questions if you don't want to lol I'm just perpetually curious about such things! Feel free to ignore or answer whatever you like!

[nephymuses]

The code ​☠️​

Interacting

SEND MEMES, it’s a quick and easy way to start interacting. It can even work as an ice breaker. Whether we never spoke, or we’re RP a while ago, please send memes, I find them very entertaining while working on longer plots!

You can turn any ask into a thread. I don't mind having multiple threads! In fact, I encourage it.

Feel free to bombard my muses with asks, they love when both you and your muses interact with them, so they will always be happy to receive attention (Ones more than others lmao)

I love plotting! Please talk to me to plot something. I’m okay with almost all genres (Angst, fluff, fight, chill, romance, gore, smut, etc…). If you are shy to approach me to talk, send me an ask and I will land in your inbox

Few topics are blacklisted, but I’m not going to role-play anything related to pedophilia, rape, zoophilia, etc … but Gore is fine! (As long as mun and muse are 18+)

Don’t be intimidated by my length of writing! Quality is better than quantity! I always adapt to the way you write, just give me something that allows me to work! (For example: If you give me -hugs them- and nothing more of context, it is almost certain that I will not reply it, because it is not giving me the opportunity to work)

Romance / NSFW

For any romantic / sexual interaction there must be chemical (emotional or physical) first!

Shipping. LOVE SHIPPING. This blog is multiship, so consider each ship in a different AU! My muses isn’t here to play cheating games and stuff, unless we plot something about it, but it will be in the universe of that particular ship. Saying again, think each ship in a different timeline. I won’t ship anything underage or blood ties. Crush is fine!

Some of my muses are flirtatious by nature, that doesn't mean I'm forcing a ship! Your muse will always have the chance to slap them or laugh in their face (or maybe flirt back, who says?)

NSFW. Mun is 25+, all nsfw interactions, both mun and muse must be 18+. I reserve the right to not respond or block if you try to generate nsfw content while are minors. Usually use “Read more”.

You can talk to me if you want our muses to have a pre-established relationship or want to make one.

Disclaimer

My portrayals are headcanon heavy. So keep that in mind when interacting. They are my own interpretation of the characters

Drama-free zone. Please, this’ a hobby or an escape from the daily routine, bitter is life, so I take the liberty of ignoring anyone who approaches with bad intentions

Please have patience if I don’t reply quickly. Sometimes I don’t have time in my real life or I just feel stuck and don’t know how to advance the rp. You can ask me anything! Maybe simply by talking we can follow the course or plot something new.

Sometimes I just don't have time to sit down and reply to threads because real life is consuming me, but I can make quick interactions through memes. That doesn't mean I've thrown away our thread, I'm just waiting to have enough time and motivation to give you a good reply

No Godmodding, don’t take control of my character (unless it’s something basic like moving to a place, to make the rp a little more fluid)

[nephytale]

The code ​☠️​

Interacting

SEND MEMES, it’s a quick and easy way to start interacting. It can even work as an ice breaker. Whether we never spoke, or we’re RP a while ago, please send memes, I find them very entertaining while working on longer plots!

You can turn any ask into a thread. I don't mind having multiple threads! In fact, I encourage it.

Feel free to bombard my muses with asks, they love when both you and your muses interact with them, so they will always be happy to receive attention

I love plotting! Please talk to me to plot something. I’m okay with almost all genres (Angst, fluff, fight, chill, romance, gore, smut, etc…). If you are shy to approach me to talk, send me an ask and I will land in your inbox

Few topics are blacklisted, but I’m not going to role-play anything related to pedophilia, rape, zoophilia, etc … but Gore is fine! (As long as mun and muse are 18+)

Don’t be intimidated by my length of writing! Quality is better than quantity! I always adapt to the way you write, just give me something that allows me to work! (For example: If you give me -hugs them- and nothing more of context, it is almost certain that I will not reply it, because it is not giving me the opportunity to work)

Please, if you are going to unfollowing me, soft block or hard block me. This way I don't follow you again or talk to you by mistake.

Romance / NSFW

For any romantic / sexual interaction there must be chemical (emotional or physical) first!

Shipping. LOVE SHIPPING. This blog is multiship, so consider each ship in a different AU! My muses isn’t here to play cheating games and stuff, unless we plot something about it, but it will be in the universe of that particular ship. Saying again, think each ship in a different timeline. I won’t ship anything underage or blood ties. Crush is fine!

Ryoko is flirtatious by nature, that doesn't mean I'm forcing a ship! Your muse will always have the chance to slap her or laugh in her face (or maybe flirt back, who says?)

NSFW. Mun is 25+, all nsfw interactions, both mun and muse must be 18+. I reserve the right to not respond or block if you try to generate nsfw content while are minors. Usually use “Read more”.

You can talk to me if you want our muses to have a pre-established relationship or want to make one.

Disclaimer

Drama-free zone. Please, this’ a hobby or an escape from the daily routine, bitter is life, so I take the liberty of ignoring anyone who approaches with bad intentions

Please have patience if I don’t reply quickly. Sometimes I don’t have time in my real life or I just feel stuck and don’t know how to advance the rp. You can ask me anything! Maybe simply by talking we can follow the course or plot something new.

Sometimes I just don't have time to sit down and reply to threads because real life is consuming me, but I can make quick interactions through memes. That doesn't mean I've thrown away our thread, I'm just waiting to have enough time and motivation to give you a good reply

No Godmodding, don’t take control of my character (unless it’s something basic like moving to a place, to make the rp a little more fluid)

[ovaryacted]

✧˖° ── RULES & GUIDELINES

This is an 18+ blog, crude language and mature topics will be a regular occurrence. Minors should not be interacting with anything NSFW that is uploaded on this page. Minors should also not be interacting with me personally, requesting anything, or talking to me about sex & kinks (unless it comes from an educational standpoint, then I can make an exception depending on what it is).

Anon hate and discourse have no place on my blog, and I ask that you have your age visible on your account. This is a safe space for all people (LGBTQ+, POC, neurodivergent people, etc.) If you are racist, homophobic, zionist, islamophobic, sexist, fatphobic, an incel, a pedophile, a proshipper, a kink shamer, or are ignorant and/or bigoted in any way, I will block you.

✩ ─ Requests are closed, as I already have set ideas I want to write for and generally don't take requests. However, I will allow thirst messages in my ask box and I am open to writing drabbles/smaller pieces for things that suit my interests.

✮ ─ I usually post whenever I can or want, I don’t have a set posting schedule. I have a life and a full time job outside of this blog, so usually if I am not consistent with posting or I am not as active, it simply means I am busy.

✩ ─ I am often loud in the tags and enjoy using memes and gifs as my reaction to things. I like being funny on the timeline, so be prepared to see me being silly on here since I don’t take shit seriously.

✮ ─ I am always open to meeting new people and my inbox and ask box are there for interactions. No pressure of course, but if you have any questions or want to know more about me and the stuff I write, feel free to shoot me a message!

✩ ─ Don't just like my work, reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated and help creators stay motivated to create more!

I WILL WRITE:

CONTENT: smut, fluff, angst, etc. I focus on afab fem reader & gender neutral reader. When I write anything NSFW, especially BDSM, it comes from a place of knowledge and experience, and I value and support kink exploration. I make an effort to show healthy/accurate/inclusive sex practices and I am always open to criticism, recommendations, and additions so long as it's respectful.

I will write things that include dark content, gore, violence & things that are considered "taboo" like age gaps & abuse of authority. When I do, I will always have warnings and disclaimers so please do read them beforehand. You are responsible for the content you consume.

MOST KINKS: Dom/sub dynamics / femdom / impact play / Daddy & Mommy Kinks / PinV / Anal & anal play / DDLG & MDLB / knife & gun play / blood play / period sex / sex toys / squirting / cum play / spit play / foot fetish / breeding kink / cockwarming / breath play / degradation & praise / threesomes / somnophilia / overstimulation / dumbification / dacryphilia / orgasm control & edging / marking / voyeurism / exhibitionism / bondage / pet-play / age-play (with exception) / monster-fucking / bodily fluids (piss & vomit with exception) / CNC & free use (with exception) / more that I may be missing

DARK CONTENT EXCEPTIONS: Dub-con & Non-con / Psuedo-incest (depends) / yandere & stalker / some DDNE content / I don't mind exploring the taboo or other dynamics, just depends on what it is.

I WILL NOT WRITE:

Incest / pedophilia / hardcore rape or non-con / child & animal abuse / underage scenarios or aged up characters / bimbo! reader / domestic abuse & hardcore violence (unless it’s part of the plot) / race play / scat / necrophilia / limbless / intense bodily torture / beastiality (this doesn't include the omegaverse or monsters, I'm open to that with exception).

I won't write for male gay or trans characters. This is out of respect for people who live that experience and want to see a proper representation of those identity/relationship dynamics. I feel that I will do a disservice in properly depicting those very real experiences as a cis woman, and I advise readers to find writers who cater to their wants & needs.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

today’s drabble goes out to @spookyshrimpemotions​ and her autumn celebration 🍁 happy autumn and soon-to-be birthday, liza! you’re a joy and a delight :)

“C’mon, let’s make this quick,” Dean says, dragging Cas into the supermarket by one of his trenchcoat sleeves. “Can’t believe Sam forgot the fucking salt.” 

“We did leave in a hurry, Dean--”

“And you don’t know the first thing about hunting, you could just pull that smiting trick, but that’s not very--”

“Dean, the salt is on the other side of the store--”

“And it’s colder than a witch’s tit out there, who does this in mid-October? Have I mentioned that I hate Sam?” “Yes, Dean,” Cas says patiently. He’s being awful patient, Dean thinks, for someone who doesn’t even have to be here. He’d just showed up while he and Sam were heading to a salt-n-burn, because goddamned ghosts don’t stop for the apocalypse, and said he wanted to “help.” 

Not that--not that Dean minds. It’s nice to have company, especially company that's Cas, because the last time they’d hung out, just the two of them, Dean’d tried to get Cas with a girl and it had gone real bad, although it had also been real funny. He didn’t get to laugh that much very often. 

Or at all.

Dean pulls Cas past displays of random flavors of Oreos and pork rinds and Natty Light to the salt, which is exactly where Cas said it would be. On the way to the register, they pass all the autumnal shit, pumpkins and apple cider and cookies shaped like ghosts. Part of Dean wants to teach his angel about Halloween, but he himself hasn’t celebrated the holiday in a long enough time--

And there’s Sam and the whole deal with Stanford and the fire a few years ago. So no Halloween, not quite yet. 

“Dean, you can’t just walk out of the store.” Cas is the one to lead him this time. Dean wordlessly hands a wad of bills to the cashier, who doesn’t seem at all worried about two guys who look like they just spent an hour doing something like digging up a grave buying five canisters of kosher salt. 

“You’re thinking about something,” Cas notes as they emerge back out into the parking lot, holding the bag with the salt, and Dean rolls his eyes, adopting annoyance.

“And what’s that, Cas? You gonna read my mind?”

“You feel nostalgic. You want to have people to do something with and not have to worry about the apocalypse. You--”

“Shit, Cas. I didn’t mean literally read my mind.” Dean stops right in front of the Impala. “Wait. You can read my mind?”

“On occasion.”

Dean wonders, as he meets Cas’s gaze, if Cas could read his mind when he took him to that brothel. Something to the effect of wish it was me instead of that girl. 

Dean blinks, snaps himself out of it. “Well, don’t. Let’s go, Sam’s probably fallen into the grave or something.”

“Your brother is not that clumsy--”

“Can it, Cas.” 

[bts-hyperfixation]

Company Retreat

Y/N sees a different side to Yoongi on the yearly corporate vacation.

WC:5042

Request: Please no daddy stuff. Same age or slightly older (like 2 years) but not younger, please. Independent, strong reader, but maybe not self-confident?

"Can you come and get me?"

"It's 3am..." "I know..."

“Can you stay with me?”

Office Crush/Fake Boyfriend E2L

Min Yoongi never made much sense to you. He's quiet, antisocial, and honestly a bit of a buzzkill. But everybody loves him. Obsessed would be the word you used. Maybe you're just a little bit biased because you always seem to be working on similar projects, but he always does just a little better. Still, it felt a little excessive that everyone doted on the man.

There's no denying that he is an attractive man. That doesn't warrant the praise that he gets. Just the sight of him sometimes makes your blood boil as he goes about his business ignoring everyone in the room. Some days you sit and watch him work, his headphones on blocking out everything around him. You can't help but notice the girls that squeal when he looks at them and always make sure to check in at his desk with a new cup of coffee every time there's a Starbucks run. No one ever gets you free Starbucks.

You mess with the trinkets on your desk, unwilling to start a new project until the morning meeting at 10:00 AM. It's already 9:55 and there would be no point. But you also refuse to be the first one into the meeting room.

Once five or six of your colleagues have swanned into the room you follow behind, notebook in hand. Everyone knew that this meeting would announce the company trip. Last year was an awful team building experience in the woods. This year you have been praying for something better while making bets on how bad it could be. You had five pounds on it being a freezing lake trip in the middle of January.

The clock struck 10 and the only person not in the room was Min Yoongi. Someone from his giggling girl group left the room briefly to tap him on the shoulder. It looked like he hadn't even noticed that it was time. Once everybody was seated your boss began.

“Now I know everyone is very excited to hear what this year’s free trip is going to be. And I also know last year was a little bit of a disappointment.” There are murmuring groans of agreement throughout the staff. “I am happy to announce this year the CEO has decided to send us to the beach.”

The room was quiet, assuming he had meant a British beach. Somewhere cold and dreary with soggy chips and frozen waves. After taking in your expressions and leaving the information to hang, your boss continued.

“The beach in Tenerife.” Now excited chatter filled the room. People started discussing their wardrobe options, and food and drink they couldn't wait to taste. Your boss stared them down until the discussion stopped. “Of course, this is still a work Trip and I expect you all to be on your best behaviour as you represent our company. There will be multiple meetings during the day that you are required to attend, along with team building activities, and mingles with other departments worldwide. That being said your evenings are yours please feel free to take in the sights and the culture whilst we are there. Details will be sent to your email accounts this afternoon and I look forward to seeing you there, we leave next Friday. You're dismissed.”

The meeting concludes and you can't help but feel a little annoyed at how soon the trip would be. You were working on some stuff that would take you more than a month and having to take time out for this vacation just brought down your timeline. Still, it would be a nice change from the dreary weather you were used to.

Glancing around the room you noticed Yoongi looked almost as annoyed as you did. His gaze meets yours and he rolls his eyes like you're both in on the joke. You shrug back at him and quickly exit the room, eager to work hard in order to keep up with the workload.

The week goes by in a flash. You find yourself at the airport at 6:00 AM with an eye mask, headphones, and a bag of clothes for the week. You stayed up the entire night before but managed to get your work to a point you were happy with and we're more than ready to enjoy the week of limited freedom. HR handed out all of the airline tickets. Somehow out of the 20 people in your office you ended up sitting next to him. Luckily he looked just as prepared as you did to go immediately to sleep once you boarded the plane. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself at the death stares you received from his little fan club.

You sit by yourself as you wait for boarding to be called. It's interesting for to people watch the others. Serena, a usually level-headed woman that takes no shit, it's clearly extremely nervous to fly. Her nails dig into the chair as she glances anxiously at the gates. Matt has been staring at the new intern for 20 minutes on and off. It's clear he is thinking of a way to ask him out and just hasn't figured out the way. The intern, on the other hand, has been taking glances back clearly not opposed to the idea.

And Yoongi… Yoongi is just as difficult to read here as he is in the office. His face lacks emotion, completely serene as music blares through his headphones. He is completely relaxed. Or at least he seems to be. You'd never noticed how delicate his hands were before seeing them layout on his thighs as he tapped along to the beat he was listening to. You're still looking at him when they call your ticket to board.

You stand and head towards the gate but notice Yoongi doesn't move. Of course, he is in his own little world. You roll your eyes and decide to help him out so the plane can leave. You tap his shoulder, and he opens his eyes looking directly up at you. You'd never had the chance to look into his eyes before. Maybe you are starting to see what his little fan club sees. You shake the thought away as quickly as it came. He moves one of his headphones out of the way so he can hear what you have to say.

“We're ready to board” you mumble.

“Oh… great thanks” he gathers his bags and walks with you to the gate. You squish through the aisles onto the plane finding your seats he puts his bag in the overhead locker and then reaches to take yours from your shoulder. You shrug it off and mumble your thanks, taking the seat by the window.

“What if I wanted the window seat?” He asks with a frown. You stammer a little and think about getting up until he laughs. His smile is cute. “don't panic I'm only playing.” This week might kill you. To have to admit that maybe you're wrong about him will kill you.

The flight was easy. As soon as you took off you pulled down your eye mask and the next thing you knew Yoongi was waking you up to disembark. You were picked up by a coach and driven to a luxury villa complex. Each villa housed five people. You were extremely thankful that you managed to get your own bedrooms for this trip. The last time you shared with Serena and she snores…

It doesn't take long to unpack and all of you meet in the main villas living room where your boss is staying for a briefing about the timetable. It's a short conversation where he hands out schedules to each of you. The first thing listed is a team-building exercise an hour from now you were to meet at the games room across the complex. This was to be just your office so there was no need for anything too formal.

Instead of heading back to your room, you decide to explore a little in the time that you have. You walk through the gardens and find the pool. it's a Pretty Little space. a number of local flowers surround 100 or so sunbeds just waiting for you all to have some free time during the day. you drag one to the edge of the pool and sit down removing your shoes and socks to dangle your feet into the cool water. you can't help thinking how nice it would be to be here with somebody you cared about instead of work. but your workaholic tendencies left you with very few dating opportunities.

A few of the others must have decided to explore too. Indistinct chatter grew louder as your colleagues drew closer to you until you could finally understand the conversation.

“This is it, mark my words this is the week I make my move on min Yoongi!” One of them announced.

“Absolutely not, because I'm making my move.” Another countered.

“You’re all delusional if you think you're in with a chance. He smiled at me last week has he smiled at you recently?” A third chimes in. You can't help but shake your head at their childish banter. Surely this wasn't a man worth fighting over.

“Y/N! We didn’t think anyone would be down here…” one of the ladies said as they turned the corner and notice your presence. Each one went a little pink in the cheeks. You are unsurprised to find out it’s the latest highers. Fresh out of college and more interested in flirting with the clients than succeeding in the business. But they are young, they’ll learn.

“Yeah….” You look at them each individually to see if you can make the blush deepen.

“Did you hear… anything?”

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me. I won’t tell him your plans. I don’t talk to him anyway.” They each released a visible tension, swapping to confusion instead…

“Really you don’t? I think you guys would have a lot in common.” They seem to have switched from concern over their crushes to concern that you don’t share their views.

“Have you not seen how talented he is? How could you not want to talk to him for hours?” They pull up another sun lounger next to yours and sit in a row clearly gearing up for a ‘girly chat’. It’s been a while since someone has tried to force you into a conversation that wouldn’t pass the Bechdel test.

“I know he is very talented. I just always have my own work to do, unfortunately, it doesn’t leave a lot of time for the social side of life.” You shrug, trying to seem like you are indifferent to the topic rather than annoyed by his presence (and theirs). You pull your legs back and shake off the excess water, making it clear to the girls you intend to leave.

“At the risk of losing my own shot… I think you should try to spend some time with them.” The apparent ringleader suggests, earning her death glares from her companions.

“I’ll think about it.” You respond, with no actual intention to do any such thing. You make your excuses and decide to find your way to the games room early. Of course, life has a funny way of forcing situations. So naturally, when you walk into the room you find only one other person.

Yoongi is playing a claw machine filled with cute stuffed bears. You take in the rest of the room trying not to announce your presence. There are a few ping pong tables, old arcade games, and a handful of crane machines. The whole building is a little run down and in need of bringing into this decade in terms of décor, but it’s definitely fit for use. It’s most likely that the plan for today is to play table tennis to start things off.

Yoongi brings you out of your musings with a yell of triumph. He releases the bear from its prison behind the plastic flap and turns to face the room. He jumps when he finds you standing next to the door.

“I didn’t realise anyone had come I yet…” he hides the purple bear behind his back. He is cute when he is embarrassed…

“Sorry didn’t want to ruin your concentration.” You say awkwardly, gesturing to the machine. “So what are you gonna name the little guy?” You ask trying to fill the time before everyone else arrives.

“Name him?” He tilts his head in confusion until he catches up “oh the bear? I don’t know, I was only playing to waste time. Never actually planned on winning him.” You take the bear from him and turn it in your hands

“Barbera. It’s a type of grape… you suggest pointing to the grape embellishment before handing it back. “Barb for short.”

“Sounds good to me.” He looks like he is about to say more when the door opens, and others start to file in. The girls from the pool give you a pointed look when they see you standing next to their idol. You take a step away, but quickly find yourself pushed next to him as the room fills up.

Once everyone has arrived your boss announces to the room that everyone needs to find a pair. You scour around looking for Serena, your usual go-to, but just as you are about to walk towards her, Yoongi pulls your wrist.

“Stay with me?” He asks. “i don’t want to get stuck with one of them.” He answers before you can ask why gesturing to his fan club. “They are really nice, but it takes up so much energy.” You don't say anything, but you do stick with him.

“Great, everyone have a partner?” Your boss conducts a quick headcount. Satisfied everyone has a buddy he informs everyone that you are playing ping pong confirming your hunch. The couples are randomly put into force to play a doubles game in a makeshift tournament. A makeshift bracket is drawn upon a whiteboard and the games begin. It's hilarious watching everyone try to play not one person is good.

People lose more balls than they hit the longest rally is 10 long. Somehow you and Yoongi make it to a semi-final. Although it had been very close, with you being one point ahead during your previous match.

You stand in front of Yoongi for the first rally. Serving the ball to your competitors it goes well they miss the ball completely. Then Yoongi steps up to serve instead, and you find yourself getting a little distracted. Has his bum always been that cute and tight? Fully distracted you missed the next shot, earning a faux disappointed glare from your buddy. You grin sheepishly and tried to focus back on the game, but your eyes kept wandering away. you lost quite spectacularly, six points down.

The final came and went, and you were all dismissed. Someone suggested heading down to the beach to find a cocktail bar. And so that's what you all did. It was a short walk to the beach but you weren't sure you'd be able to find your way back later alone. You make a mental note to stay with the group at all times.

The cocktails are bigger than your head. Each one is easily a pitcher worth of alcohol. You only drank one before you went a little lightheaded and decided to stop. That didn't stop your co-workers though. You watched and laughed along as each one maker made a fool of themselves downing shots and having the time of their lives. You danced and played games until you were too desperate for the bathroom to avoid it anymore.

You can't have been more than five minutes but by the time you return, it seems your co-workers had moved to a new bar. Panicked you make a few phone calls, but nobody picks up. The last number you dial is Yoongi’s, praying that he looks at his phone.

“Hello?” A groggy deep voice answers

“Hello…” You say suddenly realise you haven't actually seen him in a while.

“Y/N? it's 3:00 AM…”

“I know, I'm sorry I didn't know you'd already gone back to the villa. sorry go back to sleep.” you are about to hang up the phone when he calls out to you.

“Is everything OK? you sound worried” he asks concerned

“Yeah I lost everyone I thought you might still be with them it's OK I'll find them.”

“Do you need me to come to get you?”

“I don't want to put you out you should go back to sleep it's OK…” you tried to brush him off while swallowing the panic.

“You wouldn't put me out, I don't mind,” he reassures you.

“Okay… can you come and get me?”

“Are you still in the last bar the one with the weird coconut sign?” you glance around to find the sign he's referencing. you see the massive neon pink sign I can't believe you didn't notice it before.

“Yeah, I'm still there.”

“OK, I'll be 20 minutes wait for me.” with that he hangs up the phone. You sit at the bar to wait for him and order a water. Not long after, an older man approaches you. he sits on the stool next to yours and shuffles it a little closer. the bartender eyes up the man but you shake your head, and he carries on.

“All alone tonight dear?” he asks, the smell of whiskey overpowering.

“No I'm just waiting for my friend,” you reply trying not to invite further conversation.

“a pretty thing like you? not waiting for a boyfriend are you?” he leers at you, eyes taking in the entirety of your body. You shudder under his gaze. You are about to respond when an arm snakes around your shoulders.

“Sir I don't think that's any of your business, but yes I am her boyfriend.” you turned to look at your saviour and find Yoongi staring the man down. the older guy holds his hands up in defeat and moves away.

“Having to save me in more ways than one this evening.” you chuckle, although it lacks the mirth of a real laugh. he takes your hand and leads you from the bar. as soon as you're out of sight from the creepy man you expect him to release your hand, but he doesn't.

“Are you okay?” he asks when you are far enough away.

“Yeah, I'm fine he hadn't been there long.”

“Good, I'm glad. I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to you. Or you know anyone we work with...” He seems to tack the comment on the end as an afterthought, but you don’t question it. The rest of the walk back to the villas is silent, but his hand stays in yours leading you along. You find yourself not wanting him to let go anyway. You're staying in the same house, so you walk all the way back together, he even takes you to your room.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asks

“Not a lot why?”

“Because I’ve wanted to do this for a while, and I don't want to do it while you're drunk…”

“I'm not drunk, barely tipsy anymore.” You assure him. “Do what?” he kisses you instead of answering.

“That” he stands back and waits for your response, but it takes a while for your brain to compute. He finally drops your hand and takes a step back wondering if he’d overstepped. In the meantime, your brain raced through all of the emotions you hadn’t even been aware you had regarding Yoongi.

All this time you’d assumed indifference with a hint of annoyance and professional jealousy. But as you stood there with your lips burning with the ghost of his, it occurs to you that maybe it wasn’t so professional. He starts to walk along the hallway back to his own room, looking only at the floor as he mumbles a goodnight, hoping to escape the awkward silence you’d let hang between you.

He is nearly at his door by the time you remember how your feet work. You rush to close the gap between you before he can shut the door in your face. Grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to you, you kiss him. Harder than when he kissed you. He shakes his arm free from your grasp so it’s free to wrap around you. He pulls you in tightly, dragging you back into his room.

You stumble forwards, following his lead as he heads towards his bed. He sits, bringing you into his lap, all while kissing you messily trying not to let you go as he manoeuvres you into a new position. You straddle his thighs, grinding down a little to find stability. Is hands roam over your back, blindly searching for the hem of your shirt. His slender fingers trail along the bottom of your spine sending chills to your core. You think back to watching him tap against his thighs in the airport.

The way each delicate digit kept time to the beat he was listening to, moving independent of each other but working perfectly together.

You think of how soft but firm his hand had felt in yours on the walk home.

You think of how they are going to feel across every inch of your skin and all of a sudden everything is moving too slowly for your liking.

You pull away from his lips, taking a moment to admire how puffy and red they’d become. Then you pull your shirt over your head and reach for his. He lifts his arms, so you can easily rid him of the barrier between your skin. While unclasping your bra you take in how much his perfect skin begs to be marked. Clearly, he has the same thought.

You quickly lose balance when he pushes at your hip, tipping you onto the mattress beside him. You shuffle back to stop yourself from sliding off the end of the bed. As soon as you stop wriggling Yoongi swings his leg over to trap you in place beneath him. He lowers his head to your neck and starts to bite, creating a small red mark, blemishing your skin. He sucks and licks at the surrounding area, creating a flower of bruises at the base of your neck. Satisfied he leans back to admire his work and you find yourself suddenly self-conscious with his eyes on you.

Instinctively your arms come in to cover your stomach. A move that earns a groan of displeasure as Yoongi tries to pry them away.

“Don’t hide away from me.” He says gently. Reluctantly you fight the urge to hide and let him remove your arms. He places your hands on either side of your head and interlocks your fingers so you can’t move them back again without his permission. “You never have to hide from me.” He murmurs, eyes lidded as he leans forward to kiss you again.

This kiss is slow as he lowers his body to completely cover yours. His hips roll into yours in time with the kiss. You groan as you feel the size of him against you, pushing back to feel him properly. He chuckles at your eager response. Each grind gets deeper after this, lining himself up better to drag along your clothed slit. The kiss gets hotter, faster as he works you both up.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You push against his hands to get him to pull away.

“If you don’t fuck me now, I am going to explode.” He quickly leans in to bite at your bottom lip and then trails his mouth down your body.

“Can’t have that.” He whispers against your skin. His fingers made quick work of your fly and he dragged your pants to the ground. You kicked them off your feet as he removed his own pants and underwear. His cock bounced against his stomach, and you couldn’t stop your mouth from watering. “Turn over for me.”

You do as you’re told, even a little reluctant to look away. You position yourself on your hands and knees. He grabs the crook between your thigh and stomach and pulls you back to meet him at the edge of the bed. The bed is the perfect height to line you up.

He reaches forward to play with your folds. His cool fingers feel amazing as he rubs gently against you, finding your clit and rolling it carefully. It feels like too much and not enough all at once. His hand recedes ghosting over your pussy. You clench as a finger barely dips inside.

“Do you want me to warm you up? Or do you think you’re ready for me?” He asks, digit circling, but never giving you what you want.

“I’m ready, I like the burn.” You admit putting your head to the mattress so he can’t see the blush rushing to your face. He reaches with his free hand to gently tug your hair, forcing your head to the side.

“What did I say about hiding from me?” You whine as the hand in your hair releases as he pushes two fingers inside of you without warning.

“Don’t.”

“Good girl.” He practically purrs. He removes his hand from your pussy lining up his cock instead. One hand steadies him on your hip, as the other guides him slowly. The stretch hurts so good. You feel every inch of him as he enters.

When he is as deep as he can get, he leans forward and peppers kisses along your shoulder blades. His hips sway slightly making sure you don’t quite get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

He presses one last kiss to the top of your spine and starts to pull back out. He speeds up with each thrust until it feels like he is trying to break through to your stomach. You whine in time to his skin slapping against yours.

“Sound so pretty Y/N.” Yoongi pants. He leans forward slowing his hips in favour of reaching underneath you. His fingers play with your clit as he finds his new rhythm, keeping perfect time between his touch and his thrusts. It takes you barely anytime to cum, dripping around his cock.

He groans as you clench tightly around him, stopping him in his tracks. Instead of trying to pull back out, he pushes in as far as he can and lets himself go. You relax around him as his dick softens and he pulls free. Both of you flop onto the bed spent. Without really thinking about it you seek him out for warmth, cuddling into his arms. He kisses your forehead and then stares up at the ceiling waiting to catch his breath.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” He says when his breathing finally returns to normal. You panic a little then… Was it a mistake… Is he drunker than you thought he was? You never thought to ask. As if sensing your fear he continues “I mean, I always meant to ask you out first. I’ve been trying for years but the words never came. I always struggled with words around you.”

It's a sweet admission. One you really hadn’t been expecting. It does, however, explain why you never understood why others had always said he was great to talk to when you only ever got curt nods and mumbled answers.

“Would it be weird if I asked you out now?” He shifts to look at you better and then seems to come to the realisation that you are both still naked, you dripping his cum everywhere. “Actually forget I asked that… let's get a shower and I’ll try again.” He unravels himself from your arms as you groan, not ready to lose the contact just yet. He stands and grabs your hands pulling you into his arms and towards the bathroom.

Each room in the villa luckily had an ensuite wet room with a rain shower so you didn’t have to worry about your colleagues returning from whichever bar they had made their way to. Yoongi’s hand never left the small of your back as he switched on the shower. He holds you close, your back to his chest. One hand rooms your body, ridding you of the sweat. You gasp as his fingers dip between your legs. He curls two digits inside of you to clean out his cum while his thumb absentmindedly plays with your clit.

He sucks at your shoulder as he listens to your little moans, it’s not long before you can feel his hard cock poking against you again. You grind back against him in time to the circles he draws into your nerves. Eventually, you can’t take the slow stimulation anymore.

Dropping to your knees, you surprise him into letting go. He doesn’t seem to have work out your plan before your lips are around his tip. His toes curl as you lick his slit. You dig your nails into his thigh as your other hand pumps the bottom of his length. His hands find purchase in your hair as you begin to take him down your throat.

His hands tighten as you swallow around his length squeezing down with your hand. Curses tumble from his lips as you speed up. The hands in your hair tug a little to influence your movements, you are all too happy to oblige.

You push down as far as your jaw will let you, right until it starts to ache. You glance up at him. water dripping from your lashes as you try to maintain eye contact. That’s what has him come undone; you pull back so some of his cum dribbles from your lips instead of choking it all down. You wait until his fingers start to smooth your hair down to pull away.

“About that date… What did you have in mind?” You ask wiping the sides of your lips with your thumb and forefinger as you stand back up.

Masterlist

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[knickynoo]

Hey! So, I'm working on an fic in which in the Lone Pines timeline, Marty has a little sister who's about six or seven (she was a bit of a surprise). I know a lot of people might have a similar idea, but I just love this idea of Marty seeing this little girl at the breakfast table and he has no idea who she is, but she utterly adores him. Since you seem to be the the headcanons expert, do you have any for this idea? Oh, by the way, her name is Leah, by the way.

Hi, so first of all: I love this idea. Please direct me to this fic when it's posted, please and thank you.

Second of all: I wish "headcanons expert" was a valid credential I could use in my actual life. (also, thanks!)

Don't know what you've already come up with in terms of this idea, so obviously my own headcanons may not work for you. Gonna include just whatever comes to my mind and run with the idea in general (not so much focusing on headcanons that fit into a specific fic or plot). Feel free to use what you like and ignore whatever you don't in shaping your fic and their relationship :)

I shall put it under a cut due to the unavoidable rambling I must partake in.

Anon (and whoever else is interested), here are some headcanons on big brother Marty:

Marty is understandably baffled at such a major change. I mean, his altered family is a major change already, but a whole other person is a little hard to digest. Dave and Linda may be different, but there are still many things about them that are familiar to Marty. With Leah, he's starting completely from scratch.

He probably goes through a whole range of emotions. Confusion. Maybe some anger. Sadness at not being the "baby" anymore.

Also, when he happens to first meet her is probably an important detail. If she's sitting at the breakfast table (like you mentioned) during that scene towards the end of Pt I, he at least has the benefit of being able to ask Doc questions about her over the course of their other adventures. Maybe during any "down time"/scenes we don't see in the movies, Marty picks Doc's brain about this new family member and is able to get a crash course before arriving back to 1985. BUT if she's like...in her bedroom during the breakfast scene and doesn't emerge until the family is leaving for brunch at the end of III, Marty is pretty much out of luck, lol.

Regardless, Marty has to pull himself together, get to know this little girl, and be thrown headfirst into being a big brother. He'd always wanted a younger sibling, though, so he tries to see the bright side.

Idk what you envision her personality as, but my headcanon instinct is that she's a lot like Marty: headstrong, energetic, and kind-hearted. Maybe the running joke in the McFly house is that they had Marty and then years later got surprised with another mini-version of him.

Anyway, it's abundantly clear right away who Leah's favorite sibling is. She absolutely thinks Marty is THE COOLEST guy ever and follows him like a shadow, which is weird at first because she feels so much like a stranger to him. But she's just so sweet and earnest in her love for him that he feels that innate pull to love her back. So despite not remembering anything about their relationship or about her in general, he does know one thing. He loves this kid.

At the same time, though, he's pretty sure she's also going to be the reason he either loses his mind or goes gray before he's 20. She's every bit as spirited and impulsive as he is, but being so young, she doesn't always have the ability to tell when something is dangerous. Sometimes Marty feels like he is personally responsible for keeping that girl from breaking a bone or setting the house on fire. It gives him a deeper appreciation for his own parents who had to deal with him when he was little.

Marty discovers that Jennifer and Leah have a special bond of their own. Leah looks up to Jen as well and is always excited to see her. Marty is bewildered to find out that, occasionally, the two of them bring Leah along when they go out. They'll plan a "date night" of sorts, but it isn't really a date because they've got a six-year-old with them. So, they usually end up at the arcade or go out to get ice cream.

If your personal headcanons include the Brown family moving back to 1985, you can bring Doc in on all of this! Given that Marty doesn't have the memories, Doc actually knows more about Leah than he does (which is strange & very jarring to Marty). But Leah loves Doc. He's her bizarre, eccentric, mad-scientist uncle-type figure. And once the fam comes back to the present, she becomes fast friends with Jules and Verne.

OOH! Having a little sister could also be a fantastic avenue to explore some of that "time travel aftermath" stuff Marty has to deal with. You know, after having to witness countless horrific, PTSD-inducing events? Well, Leah is super in tune with Marty, and being so young, she's very open about saying what's on her mind and expressing her feelings. So whenever Marty seems off or upset, she immediately stops whatever she's doing and focuses on helping him. Of course, she does this in a way typical of a six-year-old. Sometimes that means loudly asking, "Marty what's wrong??" or "Why are you sad?" in front of the rest of the family. But other times, she takes a gentler approach to comforting her big brother. Giving him a hug, sharing a favorite snack, or making up a silly joke to get him to laugh. She actually may be the family member who is most aware that Something Is Wrong with Marty, though she's unsure as to what it could be. Her top two theories include: a bigger kid is being mean to him at school, or there is a monster under his bed that is keeping him awake and making him cranky and upset.

As time goes on, Marty finds that having such a young sibling is a fantastic way to start working through the whole time-travel fiasco without raising suspicion. He starts getting into the habit of telling Leah bedtime stories, and at first, he really is just reading to her from a book. But soon he starts "making up" his own stories. One about a kid who is the youngest sibling in an unhappy family. A kid whose best friend builds a time machine that he gets to test out (Marty decides to leave out the whole "terrorists show up and violently murder the scientist" part, as well as some of the other questionable content). But night after night, Marty continues to weave together as much of his adventures as possible, all under the guise of just making up a story for his little sister. He tells her about the kid getting his parents back together and how the dad saves the mom from the bully. About how the kid and his friend go into the future, and there are hoverboards and holograms, and shoes that lace themselves. But the kid does something wrong and messes everything up, so they have to fix it. Except it's scary and dangerous and everything is upside down, but he has to make it right. Then, just when things seem better, his best friend disappears into the Old West. And on and on Marty goes, while Leah is on the edge of her seat every night begging for Marty to tell her just a little bit more. Eventually, he reaches the end: where the kid finally goes back home and has to get used to everything that's new and different in his life. Maybe Marty even gets a little choked up at this point, because sometimes he still misses the way things used to be and hates that he can't remember the details of his current life. And the two of them are just sort of sitting there silently--Marty because he's made himself all emotional, and Leah because she's confused as to why Marty seems so sad after telling such a fantastic, exciting story. But she just snuggles up close to him and tells him that maybe the boy in the story will love his new family and life. Maybe he'll be happy. And Marty wraps an arm around her and is quiet a while before adding on to the story and telling Leah that she's right. The boy does end up happy and loves his family, even though they're different.

Aaaand...I'm gonna go ahead and wrap it up there. Maybe you can use some of these as inspiration, and if not, I hope you at least enjoyed reading them. Keep me updated on the fic, because I definitely want to check it out. I don't think I've ever read a BTTF fic with this concept before.

Thanks for the ask!

[cienie-isengardu]

The Lin Kuei? As far as social dynamics and structure. You probably have a lot of these questions answered already, so you might just have to consolidate them... but what do think the Lin Kuei social structure is like?

I know there's the Grandmaster whose above everyone, and the Master Assassins (game characters we know about) and Sifu above everyone else, and rank is probably determined by skill less than birth. Sektor doesn't seem to get any special protection or treatment despite his family tree.

But what exactly is the hierarchy among the members? Who out ranks who? Both in teams, and as a group? What are the inter Lin Kuei relationships like, who feels what about who? What exactly is the qualifications? (Cyrax who I admittedly don't pay much attention to, for example confuses me, since he doesn't seem very impressive as a fighter?) How is rank maintained? I know they probably fight for it, but fighting constantly or to the point of death / serious injury seems counterproductive, even in mk? How is peace maintained? How is punishment dolled out, what constitutes punishment in a aggressively combative society like that, and in such a brutal environment, what is punishment?

If there's other things you think of to answer that I didn't ask, answer those too please. I love how much thought you put into these. Your the best. 🥰

"RELEASE THE RAMBLES!!!"

First off, sorry it took me so long to answer. Secondly, thank you very much for such a wonderful ask! Hope you will not regret once the rambles are set free, because there is a lot to talk about :D

The safest way to analyze Lin Kuei social structures would be to start with some basic question: what is a Lin Kuei? And the answer will be of course a clan, more precisely, a clan using assassins and thieves as its main source of income. But there is also another thing about Lin Kuei that will play an important role in creating and sustaining social structures - the strong independence streak and the pragmatism born from it.

Because the vital part of Lin Kuei is their loyalty to themselves. They work for those who can afford their service, but they aren’t bound to any earthrealm government or outworld ruler. I mean, Shang Tsung/Shao Kahn probably had a long-lived deal with Lin Kuei that benefited clan and in MK9 Lin Kuei offered the emperor their loyalty and service, but we also known that cyber Sektor refused to serve Quan Chi/Shinnok [MKX] once he decided the sorcerer had failed to fulfill his part of contract. Which means at the end of the day, the Lin Kuei benefit was the major goal to achieve. Even Kuai Liang’s reformed Lin Kuei shows this tendency - Sub-Zero will work with other Earthrealm Defenders but he isn’t blindly following anyone and is willing to go against fellow combatants (seen especially in banters with Raiden [MK11] where Sub-Zero questions god’s competence to protect the realm).

Interestingly, Shirai Ryu in the past did offer their service to various Japanese leaders / shoguns and who knows, even in modern days the clan still could have served the government as some special forces in time of need (and in return, have some protection and/or supplies from government?). In contrast, there is little to none information of Lin Kuei being loyal to one country - I mean, the sources usually call Lin Kuei warriors the “chinese ninjas” but we have never seen them showing any sign of national pride, haven’t we? Their only pride comes from belonging to Lin Kuei and their own skills. Another point against connection to any government is the fact that Lin Kuei are operating world-wide and collect people with special powers from over all world (Cyrax comes from Botswana [Southern Africa], Smoke/Tomas Vrbada from Prague [Czech Republic] and even Ice Bros were born in USA in old timeline). So, the fact that Lin Kuei warriors are diverse in terms of their powers and appearance/ethnicity will also affect the social structures.

So, the social structures on one hand must create a society that blindly follows Grandmaster’s will, on another be enough A) elastic to adapt a vast number of different people and B) solid to maintain the clan independence from others, Earthrealm and Outworld alike.

The problem with independence is that Lin Kuei works for the best price which also means constant danger. For warriors sent on missions to the safety of the whole clan. Without a clearly defined loyalty to anyone but themselves, Lin Kuei would be left on its own in case of enemy attack or any other potentially dangerous crisis. So the members of the clan must stick to each other because no one else would do that.

Regardless of type or date of source, the clan headquarters - one or many existing at the same time? - is usually presented as located in a naturally hard-to-reach, isolated place and with a clear defensive character, as can be seen below :

Lin Kuei for ages used naturally hard to invade / attack places like mountain peaks separated from the rest of the world by abyss with a bridge that can be easily destroyed and solid, thick walls to protect the clan. But here is a thing to think about - as much as there were a lot of strong, cunning and skilled warriors, Lin Kuei operated world-wide, taking jobs in various parts of Earthrealm and Outworld and some missions could take months if not years to finish and there was no guarantee that everyone would return. Which means the warriors couldn’t always be available in case of an enemy's attack or other serious crisis.

So, to maintain the defensive advantages, especially in a naturally harsh environment, there should be someone to control and if necessary take care of the state of walls, the bridge(s), residential buildings and so on. Which means Lin Kuei would need access to natural resources (wood, stone, metal) for expansion or repair but also for experienced craftsmen. There is also a matter of access to drinkable water and food supply, the most basic requirement for a clan to survive and thrive.

On one hand, warriors could fulfill such roles too, especially if we take into account a paragraph from Mortal Kombat novel by Jeff Rovin (1995):

They [Lin Kuei] would kidnap children when they were five or six and raise them in secret caves or woods to become superb athletes, great scholars, and unparalleled fighters, able to use all weapons and to improvise arms from common objects such as paper rolled to a knife-point or sand packed into a sock. They would train the children, boys and girls both, to be masters of many trades: carpenters, fishermen, priests, and even beggars, so they could blend in and make themselves useful in different towns as they traveled on missions for their lords.

Many young people died during training: some could not hold their breath for five minutes and drowned, others weren’t fast enough to avoid the weapons of the masters, some starved or froze or dehydrated when they were stranded, naked, in deserts or on mountaintops and told to make their way home. But those who survived were the Lin Kuei.

On the other hand, to become masters of the traders mentioned above, those children needed proper teachers. And yes, the already trained warriors could pass the knowledge to the younger generation but warriors first and foremost were responsible for earning money for the clan which is why personally teaching kids anything other than martial arts seems like wasting a time they could utilize in a better (more profitable) way.

This is why I suspect the social structures of Lin Kuei included various groups responsible for different needs of the clan.

The leader

So, we have a Grandmaster, the ruler. In modern times, pretenders for this title needed only to defeat and kill the current leader to take over the clan. Like Cyber Sektor and Kuai Liang did. But such practice may be just an exception to the long tradition, because Cyber Initiative was an extreme project that divided and ultimately destroyed the old version of clan. Killing the previous owner of the title may have some value (as in, eliminating any potential conflict of interest) but at the same time choosing and teaching a successor sounds much more practical. Because leading such a big clan is no easy feat thus any preparation would be useful and beneficial for the clan’s future. Not to mention the possibility of some secret knowledge that should be passed alongside.

Sadly, we don’t have much information about the inner politics of Lin Kuei. From the crumbs here and there, we know about Sub-Zero and past-Grandmasters that:

→ they could have offspring (example: Sektor).

However the sources don’t define if that was required from them in the form of a marriage or just as a way to secure the continuing inheritance of power (a tradition that Kuai Liang could simply ignore) or from their own choice or if the procreation of a child was unplanned and just happened. Whatever the truth was, in the case of Sektor, “it was never in question that he would join the Lin Kuei.”

The line from MK9 Sektor bio suggests that being a child of a warrior does not give immediate status as a member of the Lin Kuei. This in turn could suggest that not every child begotten by Lin Kuei warriors would be forced to join the clan. Sektor, as the son of the Grandmaster simply didn’t have a choice in the matter and who knows, maybe there is some premature qualification should the child be taken or not.

Another interesting part of Sektor’s BIO is this line: “Though this mission will put his clan in good standing with Shao Kahn, Sektor's ultimate goal is to supplant his father as Grand Master of the Lin Kuei." which may suggests that Sektor wasn’t the designated heir after all so plotted to overthrow his father?. I mean, he was sent to the Mortal Kombat Tournament as a participant and then cyborgized while the Grandmaster himself stayed human with a handful of other members of the clan. Then again, Sektor’s ending suggests that Grandmaster wasn’t surprised much by Sektor’s attempt to take over Lin Kuei, so maybe the killing of the previous leader was in fact a necessary part of rite of passage between old and new ruler?

→ it was against tradition for them to personally train new recruits

Stated in Deadly Alliance, in Frost’s Bio:

The winner was a mysterious female named Frost who seemed to have freezing abilities similar to those of Sub-Zero. Breaking with Lin Kuei tradition, the new Grand Master, Sub-Zero, took it upon himself to train this new recruit.

Interestingly, the Grandmaster was supposed to be the absolute ruler yet there were some traditions that actually regulated his or her participation in daily life of the clan. Kuai Liang simply ignored those and chose Frost as his apprentice, who at least in theory, became his appointed heir. By that logic, Sektor shouldn’t be trained by father, at least not before he gained the official status of Lin Kuei and proved himself worthy of Grandfather’s attention.

→ but it was their duty (choice?) to teach advanced arts to a few selected warriors.

This is mainly seen in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series. The third episode (“Cold Reality”) gave us Shang Tsung’s explanation about clan and its warriors:

“The Lin Kuei, an ancient sect. Their training is the deepest secret as is their code. They are silent, swift and always lethal [...]. For some, a select few… the Lin Kuei Grand Masters will continue their education into darker areas. Then death comes in more interesting ways.”

Then, through this and another episode, the TV series shows that Grandmaster in fact personally oversees the training of Sub-Zero. So, the training of the new recruits may be against the tradition, but passing the advanced knowledge and the final trials seem to be not. Or at least the trials of the warrior with special (ancient) abilities.

This suggests the social status of a warrior - or any clan member - is affected by Grandmaster’s favor or lack thereof. Those chosen will advance, become more powerful and thus sent on more dangerous yet profitable missions. With a successful streak of missions, their notoriety will grow between prestige clients and the Lin Kuei community for good strengthening their social position. And who knows, one day they could take the place of (grand)masters in the inner circle serving closely the leader? On the other hand, those whose loyalty or skills get doubted by the Grandmaster are punished in several ways.

Inner Circle / Ancient (?) Masters

The same as with Grandmasters, there is little confirmed information about Lin Kuei masters. Bi-Han/elder Sub-Zero seemed to be favored by Grandmaster who called him the “our most cunning assassin and thief” (Mythologies: Sub-Zero) but it doesn’t sound like he was one of the inner circle.

In Mortal Kombat: Defenders of the Realm (episode 5, “Old Friends Never Die”), Kuai Liang mentioned “Ancient Masters” who decided to change warriors into cyborgs, while in the Mortal Kombat Conquest TV show we could see that Grandmaster keeps talking to some men about Sub-Zero’s training and powers. Interestingly, those men had uniforms looking more like his own than of any warrior.

(If Lin Kuei co-operated with Shang Tsung for ages, their life-span could be extended by sorcerer’s magic. Or, their own special abilities allow for such a long life. Thus the name of ancient masters?)

I think it is right to assume those masters formed an inner circle that advised the leader and helped in training the chosen warriors and most likely oversaw specific operations / aspects of the clan's life. Most likely with Grandmaster, they made the higher command and were the law.

Warriors

In the simplest way, this is the working class that earns money and builds the reputation of the clan. The warriors were the main source of incoming profit for the clan, but it wasn’t just material goods from assassinations and stealing but most likely also important intelligence data that Lin Kuei could use for its benefit or sell on. Thanks to them, Lin Kuei was also feared and respected in Earthrealm and Outworld alike.

So, on one hand, being a warrior in itself was a prestige rank that gave a chance to gain fame. The skilled and smart could advance into higher positions (the master assassins and thieves) and maybe even get Grandmaster’s attention. On another the life of a warrior was the most dangerous and hazardous occupation in the clan with little prospects for a long life. The victory was paid in warrior’s blood and pain while punishment for failure was severe and harsh.

The easiest way to classified them would be those two categories:

→ the common ones,

in games and comics looking alike, without distinctive features. It is hard to tell, if they possess any special abilities, if they were blood related to each other, what kind of missions they took.

→ the master assassins and thieves,

whose uniforms and weapons are modified to their personal taste and style of fighting and who have greater independence than warriors from the first category. I think it is right to assume that named warriors should be classified as such. So we have Sub-Zero/Bi-Han, Tundra/Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax, Sektor, Frost, comics!Hydro.

Yet, this division may be in fact disastrous due to lack of enough sources. I mean, the lack of individuality does not necessarily imply a lack of appropriate abilities and for all we know, the “nameless” members just wear proper uniforms for their duties. Something that maybe even the named characters would wear if any source actually showed their downtime between missions. Frankly, the classic “ninja look” also makes everyone look alike, with only proper colors to distinguish between characters. Like the old comics version of Sub-Zero and Hydro - the main detail to tell them apart was the color of their eyes because both wore the typical Lin Kuei blue and dark uniform.

There is a lot to say about Lin Kuei warriors, so I will focus only on the aspects most vital to the subject and the role and effect it has on the Lin Kuei social structures.

→ armors, uniforms and their colors

Lin Kuei seems to have various uniforms, from those with plain (“classic”) look to very ornamented ones. Like I mentioned earlier, there may be an established type of clothes the warrior should wear on duty between missions while during the job the uniform was personalized due to the owner's skills and preferences. Some more advanced designs could be also a sign of personal achievements and were given / passed down (as family heirloom?) to said warriors.

The most noticeable thing however is the color. Since most clan members shared some kind of blood-ties (thus specific set of genes), the color may represent their connections to a specific branch of the clan. For example, blue was used by cryomancers and those warriors who had water-related powers. At the same time, blue seems like the most common color used by Lin Kuei. It makes sense for Kuai Liang’s warriors to use such tone, as to honor their leader and maybe even cut off from the dark past of the clan but frankly, Sub-Zero’s freezing power was called “ancient one” in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series that alone was set ages before the last tenth Tournament happened, so maybe the ice/water always played a big role through the history and Lin Kuei simply adapted it for its common use? As to combine the reputation of the clan with the terrifying powers of cryomancers?

There is also grey color used by Smoke that fit well to his special power and yellow worn by Cyrax. Albeit if that has any connection to his unique genes or is just a color for a specific branch of clan or just esthetic, hard to tell.

Then we have a red color that most commonly is related to fire, something that Sektor frequently used at least in the new timeline. At the same time, various Grandmasters used red / reddish or burgundy colors (examples: [1] Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series, [2] Mythologies: Sub-Zero, [3] Sektor’s Ending in Mortal Kombat 9). So the red accents on Sektor’s uniform may in fact be a sign of his blood-ties to the leader (or leading family?).

Whatever true reasons lie behind the meaning of colors, Lin Kuei warriors seem to be segregated in certain smaller groups. Interestingly, even if Sektor’s red color in fact symbolised his connection to Grandmaster, this played little to none role in the MK9 game. Of course, the source did not show much inner dynamic between Bi-Han, Sektor and Cyrax but even with so limited space, Sub-Zero was the central figure in the group screen time which makes an impression he was in fact the leader. Then, the argument about the Cyber Initiative project happened only between Sektor and Cyrax, which could also imply Sub-Zero outranked them so they did not want to bring attention of their superior to their personal conflict. Especially since disobedience to Grandmaster was a serious crime.

→ codenames

Mortal Kombat X and 11 provided information that Shirai-Ruy does have some system of official ranks including the term Chujin that in general was a middle rank between ninjas (Takeda Takahashi is a known example). Lin Kuei has complex social structures but as far as we know, they do not use analogous to Japanese ninja system of ranks and yes, I know I categorized the named characters as the master assassins and thieves but frankly, I don’t remember other warriors to refer to them as such. The warriors just called each other by codename and various sources say the codename wasn’t something that permanently belonged to one individual. The name of “Sub-Zero” is the best example since it was used by many warriors through the course of a long period of time.

In both timelines, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang come from lineage of cryomancers serving Lin Kuei

and currently have ongoing conflict to whom the codename truly belongs. Because apparently, the name is passed to new generations once the younger cryomancer will prove their worth, most likely, by defeating the present champion. This does not mean that one must die because frankly, “retired” cryomancer still could teach adepts or serve the clan in a meaningful way. Also, which is very prominent with cryomancers, their mastery over ice grew stronger with passing years, so Bi-Han and Kuai Liang’s Grandfather in fact could be a pretty powerful warrior even as an old man.

The important thing however is that, the codenames may determine the position in clan hierarchy. We don’t have a way to analyze the subjection between codenames and social status of Sektor, Cyrax or Smoke but names used by cryomancers may define their level of mastery over ice. The title of Sub-Zero has existed for ages and I think it is right to assume this is a codename intended only for the best of the best. Sadly, we don’t know how high in the hierarchy was “Tundra” but we can’t cross the possibility that Bi-Han at some point in his career used that name too, before he managed to earn the mantle of Grandfather’s name.

So, Lin Kuei may not use typical ranks and instead stick to codenames passed from one generation to another. Thus no one is addressing Bi-Han as the master assassin and thief but everyone knows that the person using the codename “Sub-Zero” is one of top warriors in the service of the clan.

→ combat experiences, teachers and retirement

Combat experience is something that affects a warrior’s position in a clan because no amount of training (even as hellish as training of Lin Kuei adepts) will be the same as real life and death struggle. The more experienced a warrior is, the more valuable become to the clan. At the same time, old age will slow down even the best of the best fighters at some point. Surprisingly, the first game mentioned (hinted) the idea of retirement in Lin Kuei in Sub-Zero’s (Non-Canonical) Ending:

"After receiving the title of Grand Champion, Sub-Zero disappears back into the shadows from which he came. His only goal in the tournament was...the assassination of Shang Tsung. He was paid a large sum of money by one of Tsung's wealthy enemies. With his mission accomplished, Sub-Zero will collect his fortune and retire from his dangerous profession."

The original Sub-Zero was usually described as 32 years old. Which doesn’t sound old, but if we take into account the previously mentioned passage from the book, the teachings started at the age of 5 or 6 which could mean Bi-Han already survived two decades of harsh servitude to the clan (that abducted him and his younger brother). No one leaves Lin Kuei but there is a possibility that at some age the warrior may step down from the dangerous profession. Then, such a “retired” fighter could train adepts and young, less experienced members of the clan and maybe even start a family that will produce offspring - preferable with special powers - to supply the clan with new recruiters.

Because of that I assume that warriors in their prime were used mainly to do the dirty job and get as much money and valuable items as possible. Once they survived to a certain age, they shared the gained wisdom with less experienced fighters. We don’t know how students and teachers (“sifu”?) were assigned to each other; it may be related to their family ties or similars powers (cryomancers teaching cryomancers, like Kuai Liang and Frost) or the veterans picked youngsters for certain skills or traits that made them worth the time and effort. Anyway, veterans, as those who survived years of service, should be placed high in the hierarchy. Because their experiences and wisdom help to shape a new generation of warriors earning money and fame for the clan.

→ they work alone, in pairs or in bigger groups.

We rarely see the “nameless warriors” working alone - in case of danger or mission, they form a small army and do as they are commanded by Grandmaster (MKX) or one of master assassins, like Bi-Han (Mortal Kombat 2021). In contrast various sources show that named characters usually worked in pairs (Smoke & Tundra, Cyrax & Sektor, Sub-Zero/Bi-Han & Hydro) or alone (Bi-Han, Frost) and in some special cases, commanded larger groups of warriors.

This is an interesting detail, because all the named warriors seem to be to some degree familiar with each other even though it looks like they were permanently paired. Of course, training together will have this effect, but Lin Kuei operated world-wide and in different realms so it is not guaranteed that warriors had time to hang out between missions or to be at the same time in headquarters. If they possessed diverse, opposing elements, after passing the trials and earning the title of warrior, they could be trained separately. Thus again, a smaller chance to form (forbidden) friendship. Which is why I think there must be some exercises that force fighters to cooperate or test their skills in some sort of tournaments. Partially to see how well they fare in fight (thus judge their usefulness to clan), partially to establish hierarchy between them.

Who and how decides about pairing certain fighters is completely a mystery. On one hand, Hydro (water) and Sub-Zero (ice) were compatible and probably naturally increased their own powers. But we also have Kuai Liang (ice) and Tomas (smoke) whose elements seem like not the best combination since Smoke’s power should work better with fire (at least his battle cry, “Where there is Smoke, there is fire!” suggests that) and there is Cyrax and Sektor who powerwise may work well, but their mindsets are extremely different.

Are warriors forced into such partnerships by their superiors or were they allowed to find the right partner, sadly we do not know. On one hand, the dynamic between named characters makes an impression they are in fact an equal partners - Smoke joined Kuai Liang in his quest for revenge on his own (MK9), Sektor didn’t manage to force Cyrax into submission before the man left the clan. Comics!Sub-Zero and Hydro were so close that “Bi-Han” wasn’t afraid to admit his fears of undead Scorpion relentlessly haunting him and Hydro was supportive all the time (“Blood and Thunder”). On the other hand, partnership could provide additional safety and increase the chances of survival during missions and maybe even uphold an already earned social position, so the warriors may seek each other for solely pragmatic reasons, even more since friendship was seen as a weakness and forbidden. I also suspect that though partnership between two warriors was based on mutual benefits, there could be fierce competition between pairs.

Surprisingly, all known to us partnerships are between male characters. There is no gender-mixed duo as far as sources are concerned (unless comics!Hydro was female, trans- or agender person and frankly, for 4 comics issues only one narrator box used the pronunciation of “he” for Hydro, while Scorpion was constantly called by Lin Kuei, other characters or narratives as “he”, which always makes me wonder about Hydro’s gender. Or did comics!Lin Kuei warriors talk about themselves in third person to not betray their and their comrades true identity / gender?). Regardless of the nature of said partnership, those working together share a strong bond. Kuai Liang and Tomas outright considered themselves very close friends (family) despite clan rules that forbidden friendship. Bi-Han was willing to show his weakness / fear to Hydro who in return was very protective of him and even Sektor shows a pathological need to keep Cyrax at his side despite all the oblivious signs how unwise this decision is. Frost, sadly, didn’t have any named partner (what may be related to her role of chief between female Lin Kuei warriors) and if she was included in an important mission, she partnered Grandmaster (MK: Deadly Alliance). And their collaboration was based on a master-apprentice relationship, so it had none of the equality that characterizes the previously mentioned duos.

Of course, ultimately, the warrior who works alone does not need to share the fame (and earning?) with anyone. Bi-Han is the best example of that (Mythologies: Sub-Zero, Mortal Kombat novel (1995) or his bio from the original game). And yes, every warrior should be capable of completing the job, but though weak Lin Kuei fighters may look superhuman in Earthrealm they will not last long in Outworld.

And that brings us to another important matter:

→ the place of activity.

Because those who work frequently in Outworld by default should be considered better in the combat area. But at the same time, Lin Kuei must have a wide and well organized spy network, to keep track of all potential recruits (Smoke and Cyrax), access to science research and laboratories and so on. So, especially in modern times, combat skills may not be the most appreciated feature anymore and some Lin Kuei warriors, no matter how weak they are compared to others, will still have their special value to Grandmaster’s plans. Due to the nature of spying, they could also work alone or in small groups far from their homeland. Thus, operate outside the social hierarchy established between other warriors.

→ Punishments

A warrior could die on mission at any moment, but also could be killed for various offenses, such as:

Leaving the clan - punished by death and this seems to be a consistent punishment in all sources. Of course a determined warrior could manage to successfully run away (like Takeda, the founder of Shirai Ryu or Kuai Liang did) but Lin Kuei does not forget such crime and will hunt down the fugitive for years. The best example comes from the Mortal Kombat book, in which Sub-Zero spent two decades hunting down his own ex-partner in crime to kill him in a brutal way in front of the man's family.

So even if someone managed to run away and start a new life, there was no escape from the clan's wrath. In the modern time, Cyrax was captured and cyborgized - for him, it was fate worse than death. This actually brings the question, if there were warriors responsible for hunting down fugitives or was it the duty of those whose partners broke the sacred rule of “no one leaves Lin Kuei”?

Failure of mission - another known major crime punishable by death yet most likely not applies to Kuai LIang’s reformed clan.

In the Conquest TV series, by Grandmaster’s order two warriors that failed the mission were killed by then current Sub-Zero. This was as much public execution to show others what happens once you fail as presenting the ice powers of freshly promoted cryomancer:

“Before you stand two who have failed. For this there can be but one consequence and it must come from within, within us. Earth, wind, fire, water. To control one element of the four that make up life is power. A twist of nature, an aberration, one who brings forth true killing force. Before you stand one whose ancestors have passed on such power to us. Remember this well. Behold... Sub Zero. [Grandmaster’s speech, episode 3, “Cold Reality”]”

This is just one example from the distant past but it may also be a suggestion that warriors with special powers played the role of executors.

Another example, from Mythologies: Sub-Zero, thus relative modern times:

Scorpion: Yessss... I am Scorpion. You killed me in cold blood.

Sub-Zero: I had no choice. If I had not stolen that map I would be the dead one.

Frankly this attitude is both inhuman treatment of subordinates (failure in itself is just another source of experiences and sometimes failed mission wasn't the result of someone’s mistake or incompetence but of independent circumstances) and unpragmatic (losing manpower). We may only wonder if warriors were punished for failing all kinds of missions or just selected ones. At the same time, a fighter that survived to old age should be really respected - with such harsh laws, not many members live to old age and those who did through the decades failed little to no missions.

Lin Kuei punished also impostors:

which brings us back to the point about codenames and their relationship with social position (and hey, Noob’s complaints aren’t baseless). We don’t know though what kind of punishment was used for such an offense.

Disobeying Grandmaster was also a big deal. I suspect this could be punished by death too although rather not in Kuai Liang’s clan:

“When Sub-Zero made historic peace with his clan’s enemy, Scorpion, defiant Frost challenged her Grandmaster as unfit to lead. Sub-Zero defeated and banished Frost. [MK11]”

In general, Lin Kuei laws were harsh and cruel and it was really easy to lose such hard-earned privileges and positions.

Recruits

In ancient times, children were abducted at the age of 5 or 6 and forced into harh training. Some didn’t survive but those who did became fully pledged to Lin Kuei warriors. In modern times, it seems like most adepts have some blood-ties to other members of the clan and usually are “given” for training freely. There are exceptions to the rule, like Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, who were stolen from home at a young age. Finally, there are people who seem to join Lin Kuei on their own (or at least they think it was their choice), like Smoke, Cyrax and Frost.

(Tomas and Frost are confirmed users of special powers. Cyrax most likely possesses some unique genes too or at least is capable of well controlling his own energy (chi) during fight. Frankly, it looks like Sektor is the only one named Lin Kuei who does not utilize any special power. Ironically, considering how Grandmaster (Oniro) from Defenders of the Earthrealm was shapeshifter. Who knows, maybe Sektor didn’t inherited father’s unique skills?)

So even recruits are a diverse group to begin with and include people ethnically totally different from the majority(?) who needed to learn a new language(s) and culture from scratch. This alone gives a ground for potential conflicts though there is little to none examples of racism between Lin Kuei adult members? I mean, Lin Kuei used to look down on everyone who wasn’t one of them all the same, with special hatred for Shirai-Ryu - not for being Japanese (different ethinc group) but just for being Shirai-Ryu.

The adepts were trained by older warriors and looking at Sub-Zero’s origin (MK9), some adepts trained with family members (Kuai Liang and Bi-Han and maybe even under their Grandfather’s eye?) and teacher (Sifu?) could train more than one student at the same time.

In a way, those coming from the lineage of warriors could be from the start at better social standing than those who were “no ones” or came from far away lands and needed to earn respect of others. Those blood-related to clan members either developed specific powers during training or at least possesed special DNA that could be passed down to the next generation. So, even if those children weren’t the best of best fighters, they still have something valuable to the clan.

At the same time, again, Sektor doesn’t seem to have any special privileges, not once in game(s) called his father as anything other than Grandmaster and in general, he did not have much presence (respect?) between other warriors. I mean, he freely spoke only with Cyrax who in the end did not listen to him at all and almost always fell silent if there were more people around. So yeah, how big an impact on social dynamic between fighters had their blood-ties is not sure.

I’m not gonna talk much about the life of adepts (and there is a lot to say about potential pathologies and harm done to the kids), but they for sure were the lowest rank in (warrior) hierarchy, at least until they proved their worth.

So, the Lin Kuei warriors could be separated in three categories, from lower social rank to the highest:

adepts (in-training, maybe assisting in missions under the watchful eye of their superiors),

warriors (the one earning income),

veterans (teachers)

and the circle was completed.

(For some reason, the circle of Lin Kuei warrior life resembles the “Three-field system” but I have weird associations, I guess).

Household?

When we talk about the Lin Kuei clan, the first association that comes to mind is its warrior nature. But with such a large organisation, warriors are just one social class rather than the majority. Because someone needs to feed them, cloth, arm, heal, which seems logical to assume that there were other specializations that keep the clan running.

I mean, Lin Kuei is an independent faction that as far as we know, has no ties to any earthrealm government. This alone suggests to keep that independence the clan have to possess their own source of food, water, medical supplies and access to other necessary resources, so no enemy could besiege their strongholds and starve them and so on.

⇒ The medics will be for sure an appreciated branch of the clan. And yes, warriors to some degree must have medical knowledge (if not to save people then at least to know how to successfully kill them) but at the same, with so many specific genes and used in fight elements, some Lin Kuei members may have different medical needs than normal people.

⇒ Armorers (and smiths?) provide clan additional defensive equipment and weapons. And we know that even in modern times Lin Kuei barely used firearms and relied more on shurikens, knives and swords.

⇒ Scientists, computer experts and researchers, especially in modern times when C.I. Project became a thing, most likely playing a big role in the clan, fulfilling Grandmaster’s wish to change warriors into cyborgs. May not be liked by the traditionalist members of Lin Kuei, but favored by the leader (so be untouchable).

⇒ Farmers and craftsmen, providing the clan with the basic needs. I doubt they had much impact on social dynamics and may not even live on the grounds of the Lin Kuei Temple / Fortress. I imagine them living in the surrounding villages (or at the foot of the mountains?), giving the Lin Kuei food and handicrafts (and maybe even their own children?) as a tribute, and in return get protection.

My conclusion is that, Lin Kuei have pretty complex social structures in which Grandmaster and his closes circle administrate the whole system, warriors, depending on their age and expertises, are responsible for earning money and prepare the new generation to replace them, while household is there to keep previously mentioned groups alive and in the best condition. Everyone plays a role that helps to maintain Lin Kuei independence and reputation.

So, finally I get to the main part of the question about the dynamic between characters.

Who outrank who is a good question. The Grandmaster of course is above everyone else and so are the “ancient masters” / inner circle. Bi-Han seems to be one of the favored warriors by Grandmaster, the only(?) one confirmed to be the most cunning assassin and thief and the use of a codename associated with “ancient power” only adds to that impression. So, in regard to the named five characters (him, Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor) I would say Bi-Han outranked everyone. At the same time, he does not act arrogant against his fellow clansmen. Okay, to be honest, he seems to not interact much with anyone but that is rather the abrasive, asocial nature of cryomancer than anything else, really. And we have examples from various sources that Bi-Han wasn’t always rude to people around him. (Noob is another deal, but even then he has a more passive-aggressive attitude toward his brother than outright hate / arrogance).

Anyway, Bi-Han outranked the others. And yet, he does not seem to perform any special social functions - except maybe at Grandmaster’s command executing those who failed. In contrast, in MKX intro vs. Sonya, Frost was described by Kuai Liang as “chief among [female Lin Kuei]” which implies her high rank and responsible position in social structures.

One may wonder why Bi-Han most likely wasn’t given similar honor but to be an effective chief, the person must be available and close at hand. Going with Mythologies, the elder Sub-Zero barely came back from one mission (stealing map of elements) to be sent right away for another difficult task (stealing Shinnok amulet and side trip to Netherrealm) and then next one (Mortal Kombat Tournament). Of course, the game due to its limited time and space, won’t focus on realism such as making a proper preparation for the job but even if Bi-Han was allowed little rest between one and another mission, it really looks like he didn’t spend much time at Lin Kuei Temple. Thus there was no point in giving him any big group to oversee, if he wasn’t available to control what was going on between his subordinates. Also, he seems pretty familiar with Smoke and Kuai Liang’s close relationship but there are not many hints that he tried to do something about their breaking clan rules forbidding friendship.

Then again, there is a possibility that Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor did in fact belong to Bi-Han’s own “cohort” what could explain

A) why all the five characters are always so closely tied up to each other while the rest of clan members are just a background and

B) why with Sub-Zero’s death everything went to hell between them.

(And again, the amount of duties to female Lin Kuei could keep Frost from leaving headquarters too often, thus no need for partnership with anyone. Because of that, she grew angry at Kuai Liang for “holding her back” and at the same time not respecting enough to grant her the title of Sub-Zero).

Pragmatic resolution to solving inner conflict would be some kind of neutral judge (chief) and the fight for rank and position most likely happened under watch of superior(s). As in, official challenge, especially for top ranks like Sub-Zero. The official fight did not need to end with someone’s death but this could be one of rare situations when a warrior could kill the other fighter - or even the hated teacher / master? - without much consequence. Of course, Lin Kuei proved pragmatism is not always a priority but I strongly believe the clan structures were based on discipline and so arbitrary fights were also severely punished. What is the point of having warriors if they can’t be sent to earn money due to unnecessary injuries? Also, corporal punishment in itself shouldn’t be that big deal for society growing up in brutal ways since early childhood - which is why I suspect that the punishments were administered in public. As a form of humiliation, to force the guilty people to earn respect of fellow warriors again from scratch.

I suspect that warriors could be separated into smaller groups - basing on their special powers or family connection? - that competed with each other. Age could also regulate how one person should act around the others; for example, like youngling around veteran or fully trained fighter. Not sure how this rule could relate to those representing “household”. Were there laws protecting them or could they be bullied/killed on whim? Could warriors even be involved romantically with “servants” / lower class? The good thing from such affair could be the birth of children given to the clan once they were old enough and well, sex with “outsider” in itself can be a good way to relieve the warriors growing tension / stress resulting from living in a brutal environment without complicating things between companions. To be fair, some warriors could have romantic / intimate relationships with each other as well but most likely kept them secret to avoid punishment.

There is also a matter of who and how chose warriors to represent Lin Kuei at Mortal Kombat Tournament. I mean, Bi-Han was always the first choice, supported by the first game and Mythologies but did he choose Sektor and Cyrax as his companions or they naturally were chosen as part of his group or did Grandmaster assign them to Sub-Zero on his own? Dunno but keeping the five named Lin Kuei warriors together through the course of years really makes me think they came from the same, for a lack of better word, a cohort.

Cryomancers most likely stuck together (Bi-Han and Kuai Liang) and Smoke tagged along. Cyrax looks like an easy going type of person who isn't afraid to speak his mind so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were either on good terms with most clan members or pissing the rest while human Sektor, in contrast, is much more introverted, or even withdrawn from social interaction. This is of course only my subjective feeling, but he lacks a dominant presence to make a big impression. Not like the older Sub-Zero or Cyrax. Then we have Tundra!Kuai Liang whose loyalty belongs first and foremost to an older brother than the clan itself and to honor Bi-Han he will get into all sorts of dangerous problems and conflicts not caring for consequences at all. A behaviour that may not sit well with Sektor (even more, if he never had such a strong bond with own father/other people?). Sektor and Kuai Liang have a long history of ideological conflict and I suspect they truly could agree only about not giving up Cyrax’s remains to anyone and whatever was going on, protect the body at all cost.

Interestingly, as much as Kuai Liang and Tomas or Kuai Liang and Cyrax were close and on good terms (especially after the fiasco of C.I. project), Bi-Han and Sektor seem to be much closer to each other. If not in the stricte emotional sense, they at least share the pride in Lin Kuei and strive for perfection (manifesting itself in accepting their drastic changes for example). Even with limited sources, the storyline never(?) put Sektor and Bi-Han against each other, either as humans or cyborg and wraith and I strongly suspect there may be something much deeper about their relationship that lack of interaction on screen could suggest in the first place (x)(x).

Then we have tradition vs technology.

This most likely is a modern issue that could be the basis for serious inner conflicts between warriors. Those taking jobs in Outworld for sure must be powerful fighters, especially since technology is not something working well there. Bi-Han in most if not all sources was a traditionalist who didn’t use much or outright refused to use technology and I wouldn’t be surprised if he worked in Outworld frequently (especially Bi-Han in the newest movie was presented as a close associate of Shang Tsung). For the weaker warriors, advanced technology could be a life-saver. Then there is the whole Cyber Initiative that divided (and ultimately destroyed) Lin Kuei. For such a project, the clan either worked with independent / private researchers and cybernetic experts or actually had its own specialists (another possible social group?).

From MK9 we know Cyrax spoke in public against Grandmaster’s plan. In Defenders of the Realm, Smoke and Kuai Liang run from the clan at the first occasion to avoid such fate. Logically thinking, Sektor (supporter of the advanced technology) should not get along well with Bi-Han (stubborn traditionalist), the same as he fell out with Cyrax, Smoke and Kuai Liang. And yet there is not much evidence suggesting any big conflict between them. Of course, Sektor could simply not speak against his superior(?) the same as he argued with Cyrax but in all fairness, I doubt Bi-Han’s lack of use of technology was a secret not openly critiqued by others. I mean, even comics!Kuai Liang said about his brother that Bi-Han was “stubborn in many ways, refused to utilize modern technology on his missions. A shame, really. He was among the Lin Kuei’s finest --although fast becoming obsolete”. If Sektor and Bi-Han (and the rest of the group) worked together on joint missions, the issue of technology would come sooner than later. Though I suspect that no matter what Sektor would say, Bi-Han outstubborn him anyway. On other hand, it looks like only Sektor needed/chose to use advanced technology (flame thrower) while the rest relied on their special powers. In that case, being Sektor between gifted people for sure was a hard deal.

So, if I have to rank them I would say Bi-Han → Sektor & Cyrax who most likely were at least a bit higher than Kuai Liang (younger cryomancer) and Smoke. In case of conflict, I think as long as it was possible, they solved their problems among themselves. Bringing authority (Grandmaster, one of chiefs(?) or Bi-Han)’s attention was never a good idea because it could lead to public punishment / humiliation. Bi-Han may or may not knock some sense into others if the inner conflict gets out of hand or at least told them into face how idiotic they are (and he is pretty famous for insulting/mocking even those he shouldn’t. Like Quan Chi, a powerful client. Which is why I doubt he would tone down his natural abrasiveness. Especially not for an idiot that actually deserves it ).

And yet, whatever conflict was between those five characters, they still stayed loyal to each other. At least until someone outright broke one of the most punishable laws, like leaving the clan.

For example, Cyrax and Sektor argued about C.I. project - and most likely it was already an ongoing argument between them. Cyrax even was “among those speaking out against the Grand Master’s plan”. Not a good thing for their partnership yet Sektor still vouched for Cyrax when Shang Tsung had his doubts about the man. Or how Bi-Han changed sides during Tournament (MK9) - otherwise his fight against Scorpion would have zero sense - and maybe he did discuss the course of his action with his fellow clan members. But whatever he told or not what was going on, Cyrax was absolutely ready to kill Scorpion to avenge fallen cryomancer (“Scorpion will pay for this!”). Then we have Smoke not abandoning Kuai Liang even though he was already turned into Cyber Sub-Zero and attacked his friend and of course furious Tundra interrupting the Outworld Tournament and literally demanding from the Emperor to bring him Bi-Han’s murderer to kill. Hell, even Noob and Cyber Sektor stick to each other despite everything that happened.

Those five were a really loyal group, weren’t they?

So, in general:

the social structures of Lin Kuei were diverse and complex,

the punishment was harsh and deadly - in some cases, executed by a fellow warrior in public.

Bi-Han most likely had a high position in clan hierarchy but he wasn’t outright called a master

and there is possibility Sektor, Cyrax, Smoke and Kuai Liang worked under his command.

Most of the Lin Kuei members share blood ties to some degree but experiences and skills seem to outrank any family bond. In contrast to friendship, keeping touch with family (within the clan) is rather not forbidden. There may be a conflict between friendship (a choice) and family matters (a fate / tradition of serving Lin Kuei to uphold).

Kuai Liang and Smoke broke clan rules forbidding friendship (and Bi-Han did nothing about that?).

Cyrax most likely were familiar with Tundra and Smoke enough to like / respect each other. In the case of Tomas, the additional factor for keeping together could be the fact that both were born as outsiders (different ethnicity, lack of blood ties to clan).

Cyrax and Kuai Liang had ideological conflict with Sektor, who in turn seems to be on good terms with Bi-Han.

Bi-Han on the other hand seemed to not have any conflict with the four named warriors? Kuai Liang was his brother (and there is no example he was abused in any way by the older sibling, I think?), MK9!Smoke may not be on a first name basis with Bi-Han (didn’t call him in game as anything else than Sub-Zero or Kuai Liang’s brother) but he was accepted as Kuai Liang’s close friend. At the beggining of Tournament, Cyrax was seen on Sub-Zero’s right side and there is the scene-parallel (with Sektor cut off from the frame, the impression is that we were shown the honorable/”good” Lin Kuei) and he showed protectiveness toward Sub-Zero.Then there is Sektor who somehow get along with Bi-Han (and Noob) without any complaints or problems. Of course, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor could be smart enough to not get in any open conflict with abrasive Bi-Han. Kuai Liang is a whole different matter, I guess.

The named characters in fact didn’t need to like each other but they were taught discipline and loyalty to the group from the start. Though it would be really hilarious if the most abrasive cryomancer with little to no social skills was in fact the one that keep them all together and was a bridge between strong-willed/hotheaded Kuai Liang & Smoke, independent Cyrax and blindly loyal, withdrawn Sektor.

I’m not sure if such a mix of strong personalities was the norm between warrior groups or was it just Bi-Han’s luck to get involved with duos of Tundra-Smoke and Sektor-Cyrax at some point. Anyway, this is my take on social structures and dynamics between Lin Kuei.

Hope it satisfies your curiosity!