#ironically this is one adult swim show that HURT

[tehshelaroxx]

This Christmas is starting to feel like the Moral Orel Christmas Special.

[lolita-lollipop]

Ooooh I got an avatar request ;]

The reader has been friends with the sully kids for a while now but hasn't seen them ever since they moved to the metkayina clan. After hearing that kiri had fallen unconscious, she begs norm and max to accompany them to the islands, because she's worried about her friend. It pretty much follows the same as in the movie, they arrive, do a check up, find nothing and then get kicked out by neytiri. Reader is just chilling outside since she isn't allowed really allowed to be in the same room as kiri, but doesn't want to leave until she knows her firend is awake and healthy. The adults are talking with Jake, she's alone and that's where aonung and his gang arrive. Drama ensues. The conflict can be about literally anything and can end however you want, but there needs to be scene where the reader leaves a strong impression.

Sorry if the req I a bit long and thx <3

Protective

PROTECTIVE NETEYAM X HUMAN READER

When you had heard of kiri fainting underwater, it took you only a few seconds to grab your things and go beg norm to let you come with him. He was against it, of course, as he knew how the metkayinan people were with humans. But, you remained adamant, being that kiri was one of the best friends you'd ever had in your life, if she was hurt, you needed to be there. You wouldnt take no for an answer. Norm knew that.

so , you ended up sitting on a helicopter that was so old and beat up you thought it might fall out of the sky. Strapped down by a seatbelt, watching the waves pass by below. It made you nervous. The water, that is. Growing up in the forests with the sullys and norm, there was a lack of large bodies of water, the biggest was the falls under the hallelujah mountains, and even those were pretty little.

Also, on a more important note, you didn't know how to swim.

You don't know why, ever since you were little, water just freaked you out. Jake and neytiri saw that, and figured that you wouldn't need the skill of swimming, as you lived in the forest. Not out at sea. How ironic is that.

So, in your anxious state, you pulled at the wires of the mask, and tapped your nails at the metal of the chair. Staring down at how the waves washed over the ocean floor, unease slowly sunk into your mind, not only because kiri was sick, possibly dying, buut because you felt so out of your element. Norm noticed, but chose not to say anything, chalking it up to the fact that your best friend was in a coma.

When you landed, it only took a few moments to be surrounded with the natives, immediately lo-ak was on top of you in a bone crushing hug, you fell to the ground, and lo-ak proceeded to blow into your neck, tickling you like an older brother bullying his sister . Tuk then piled on top, then kiri, and then neteyam. THe metkayinas around stared at the odd display between human and na-vi. Strange. So strange.

But, a particular group of boys stood front and center, taking more notice than everybody else. They all snickered with eachother, staring at the alien freaks with an actual alien. They had all known of the sully families close association with humans, but bringing them here? And showing affection. Crazy.

“Lo-ak, tuk! Get off of her, now.” Neytiri hissed, pulling the four off of you, dropping them, and then giving you a small hug herself, her touch lingered for a little bit, but you chose not to say anything, neytiri was practically your mother. Hugging was A human tendency you liked, even though they very rarely did it.

Oh god how much you missed these people, you weren't allowed to come with them, mainly because it was dangerous for you to be far away from other humans, lest your mask break and you didnt have a backup, they didn’t want to risk it. But you still loved them so very much, and jumped at the chance to see them.

It didn't take very long for norm to be lead to where kiri was, and along with him, you. The sight of her alone brought so much happiness, you wanted to go up and tackle her, and scream to her about how much you missed her. To gossip about her brothers and others in this new place. THen you remembered she was unconscious, and that someone would probably pounce on you if you tried. A woman was huddled over her, crushing some form of healing herb.

You chose to stand by the doorway, making the active decision not to approach, you were one of the only people in human form here, also the only one without any medical experience, or anything that could help, other than that you were her friend. Norm sent a short glance your way, and then proceeded to approach kiri. You gathered by the door for a little while, then chose to sit outside and watch the water.

You were wary at first, staring at the little fish dancing about, but as norm took a painstakingly long time, it let you warm up to the flowing form of ey-wa. By the time an hour passed, you were lying chest down on the dock, both of your hands in the water, swirling figure eights into the foamy sea. The small sea creatures ebbed and flowed, following your hand , you watched the glittering little white squids play your fingers, they were almost cute.

You'd never seen such creatures before, they were different from any fish you’d ever seen at home, even in the biggest bodies of water. Your eyes followed them as they perked up and down in the water, putting on a show for you. The little squids held your attention so well that you barely even noticed the heavyset footsteps behind you. Not until it was too late.

A large hand hooked around your ankle, and with a swift motion, threw you off the peer, no warning, just a harsh splash as you plunged face first into the water. Shattering your mask along the way.

You hit the water heavy, diving in head first with a bent neck to the point of pain. All of a sudden, panic filled your lungs just as fast as water did, and you forgot all of the things anybody had ever told you about swimming, which already, was very little. You hadn't realized how deep the water really was, and before you knew it, you panicked more. Oh god.

your body Is sinking.

You flung your hands around, thrashing and splashing in the deep water, the fish around you swam around in a circle, seemingly trying to help. The glass that had broken upon impact found it's way into your eyes, and you let out a scream, continuing to thrash around.

Any efforts made to rise back to the surface were beaten by your lack of oxygen, and as the last bubbles of air left your mouth, you choked on your tongue, and began to fully drown. Black spots danced around in your peripheral vision, slowly closing in on you, your throat closed up, and your thrashing began to be much less violent, instead being replaced with small, weak movements.you heard yelling, but it was too far away to understand.

And then it all went blank.

---

“Tell them! Tell them what you told me!” A voice echoed around you. when you came to your senses, and were able to open your eyes, you were sitting in your own puddle of water, wet clothes and wet hair. A salty taste in your mouth. Your head was in Tuk’s lap, and she held an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose, smiling at you goofily when you met her eyes.

Your eyes burned, and you could feel how red and puffy they were without even touching them. You took deep breaths, remembering what it felt like to have all the air in your system sucked out of you, to slowly sink down with the increasing pressure of the water. So, instead of focusing on that, you sat up, locking eyes with neteyam, who was holding anoung by his ear, yelling at tonowari and ronal.

“It was supposed to be a joke- I didn’t think the human would drown!” The teal skinned na-vi slurred out, his mouth was bleeding, and a nasty blue bruise was already beginning to form on his temple. Jake and neytiri just stared at the scene, choosing not to speak, neither of them had ever seen neteyam so… unhinged.

Usually, he was the most perfect oldest child any parent could ask for, following rules, having a kind heart, listening like a puppy. But now. He had a look, more than a look really, his entire posture had changed, he looked uncontrolled, he looked like lo-ak . Neteyam punched that metkayina boy so fast it was uncanny. He looked feral, as the boy glanced between you and anoung, there was a deep ferocity in his gaze.

Even neteyam himself didn’t understand why he was acting like this, but seeing you underwater, and seeing the little pieces of glass from your mask float to the top, seeing you struggle so hard. It brought out something in him, something that made him want to bus anoungs face in. His dad even told him to calm down, but he still punched him in the face so hard it brought stars in his vision.

Nothing they say would change a damn thing. So they stayed quiet.

“The human has a name. What if she had died? What would you have done then? Would it still have been a joke?” Neteyam continued to scream, smashing the back of his head. The Navi boy just looked down in embarrassment, people were staring now. Including You, who was staring wide eyed at neteyam, not knowing wether to be mildly afraid at the sudden change in character for him, or to be happy that he’s so keen on defending you.

“Well, she didn’t, she’s fine.” Anoung replied, shoving off neteyam, who hissed at him in return, you wanted to laugh at how strange the boy you’d known since you were just a baby was acting. He was never so harsh, and he never got into conflict unless lo-ak started it. Was he really going this far for you?

Apparently, yes he was.

“Ill fucking kill you, you fish brained fu-“ neteyam puffed his chest out, curling up his fists and making the motion to run up and sock him in the face, again. Lo-ak, bring the chaotic instigator he is, was of course, cheering his brother on, neytiri hushed him.

This wasn’t good, they had clearly worked so hard to develop their relationship with these people, and you’d crushed it down in a few seconds. So, instead of letting things get worse and making the entire sully family get kicked out, you stood up from your spot, pulling your hand away from Tuk, and slowly walked to neteyam. You seperated the space between the two idiots, and eventually grabbed neteyams hand.

“Neteyam, Stop it. I’m fine.” He scowled at you, breathing heavily, barely able to contain his anger. But he still listened to you anyway, choosing to follow you away as you walked back to kiris hut. His hand found it’s way placed firmly on your shoulder on a protective stance, and he turned around one last time to meet anoungns gaze, smirking at the blood that left his nose and mouth, daring him to say anything. He didn’t.

“If anybody ever touches you again, I’ll shoot them. I love you too much to see you hurt” He squeezed your shoulder with a smile, sending death threats with such ease. You let out a short laugh, and let him walk you away, choosing to ignore how his “I love you” felt different all of a sudden.

“I probably won’t be taking you up on that offer.”

—-

*bonus*

“Someone’s got a boyfrieeendddd” kiri teased, wiggling her fingers at you and dragging out the word for way too long. This is how you were greeted when you walked into the hut. Tuk had been gossiping with her about it, and had filled her in completely.

“What?”

“Y/n and neteyam sittin in a tree k-i-s-s-i” tuk started, and kiri giggled at how red you automatically got at the mention of him. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t just leave because that would be even more embarrassing, but you also didn’t want to talk tot he. About it-

“Shut up- oh my god shut up- somebody will hear you”

“oHhHhHhHh somebody like neteyam?” Kiri kept going, practically yelling out the words for anybody who was even remotely close to hear. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment and glared daggers at the two giggling toddlers.

“I will kill both of you right now.” Your threats only seemed to spark more enthusiasm from the both of them, and even though you tried your hardest to get them to shut up, nothing worked. They went through fit after fit of giggles, until eventually kiri paused from laughter.

“Ok ok fine- you just have to promise me one thing.” Sending one of her smiles to you, the one that makes you know

“…go on.”

��Promise that my brother won’t steal you from me forever. And I mean it- I want my designated hour a day-“ she joked, still very loud, still doing anything and everything to make you as embarrassed as she could.

“Jesus Christ. Yeah, I promise

Your brother won’t steal me forever”

———————————————————————-

Ngl I’ve been reading way too many father jake x daughter reader fics and it’s rotting my brain away. But if you want to request those I’m so down.

Anyways I completely misunderstood this as a neteyam x reader request and only saw it once I was finished. And there is no way I’m deleting an entire fic now. So I hope it’s good

Thanks for requesting anon! And thanks so much for reading my lovely readers!

[thesoftboiledegg]

"Mort: Ragnarick" was pure fun, but a different kind of fun than "Rickfending Your Mort" and "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie."

"Rickfending Your Mort" was a laid-back clip show that gave the viewer a break after the insanity of "Unmortricken"--a smart decision but not one with a lot of substance. "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie" has been controversial. I thought it was entertaining, but it would've worked better as a YouTube short.

If "Unmortricken" represented lore episodes at their best, "Mort: Ragnarick" was the best of classic Rick and Morty adventures: a wildly imaginative plot, goofy satire, fantasy science and Rick and Morty working together as a duo, reminding us how much they need each other.

Rick's the driving force behind these adventures, but without Morty, he's just a miserable old man trying to distract himself. Morty's the heart and voice of reason. He also gives Rick something to live for. Without him, Beth, Jerry or Summer, why do anything?

Rick pretends to live for science, but "science" just caused decades of grief and isolation. His family isn't a concept; it's an entity that loves him back.

Bigfoot, an evil pope, Pokeballs, Valhalla, clone bodies, infinite energy sources, zombie Summer, Rick screaming "PO-O-O-O-OPE!": only Rick and Morty could combine all those concepts into one cohesive episode. I never thought "Wow, that took me out of the story." The Pokeball came close, but the end credits scene tied it all together.

Jerry's scene was a standout, too. Chris Parnell's reading of "Nana!" was genuinely sweet. It seems like Jerry's becoming a (mostly) willing participant in Rick's schemes instead of a helpless guinea pig. Is Rick learning that releasing his iron grip on his family makes them more attached to him, not less?

I also loved it when the Vikings called Rick a witch. He loves crystals, plays with magic, has two crows as familiars: damn right, he is!

You have to suspend your disbelief a couple of times, mainly when Bigfoot attacks Rick in the kitchen (he crushed Rick earlier like it was nothing, but now Rick walks away with a few scratches?) Still, the little character moments overshadow these flaws.

Judging by old posts that I've seen floating around, I think Rick and Morty's relationship is finally becoming what fans wanted it to be in seasons 1-3. Rick's still mean, but he's less dominant and more of Morty's mischievous co-conspirator. An alien mobster freaking out in "The Jerrick Trap" because of Rick's "touch my grandson and die" policy is straight out of fanon.

Rick's more physically gentle, and Morty responds in kind. He grabs and supports him when Bigfoot attacks him at home and touches his arm during their weird, overdramatic Bigfoot send-off. His pained cry of "Rick!" when Bigfoot nearly crushes him is heart-wrenching. Operation Phoenix is back online, but Morty's tired of watching him die!

Season five is when Rick started showing emotions on his face besides that cold, pissed-off glare--we all know the one--and in season seven, it's accelerated to Rick crying in front of others. He matches Morty's feelings instead of pretending that he's above human emotions.

Needless to say, dudebros have been flooding Adult Swim's Instagram comments and Twitter replies with "Rick and Morty is shit now!" "Rick's too nice!" "Rick and Morty has gone woke!" Justin Roiland's firing gave them more fuel, but they started even while he was still on the payroll.

Their favorite line is "Rick isn't Rick anymore!" And they're right. Rick's not the asshole from seasons 1-2 who had a couple of redeeming qualities. He's not the monster that he was in season three and parts of season four. He's not the defeated man in season five who started to realize that he's hurting people but still wanted Morty to look after him like a child.

Season six is when he started to grow up--not a lot, but enough that he began taking on adult responsibilities instead of thinking he's a teenage boy who sees another teenager as his peer. I wish we saw more therapy appointments, but while they're mostly off-screen, we're definitely seeing the effects.

This doesn't make Rick a great person or atone for what he's done. Some of his crimes are beyond atonement, and not just the obvious ones like blowing up planets. This is a universe where everyone has a body count and events that should've destroyed Earth have no effect on civilization. Death and destruction don't mean that much.

His worst crimes are the personal ones: destroying Morty's psyche in "The Vat of Acid Episode," treating his family like garbage for most of season three. You can't atone for that. You can't apologize for that.

However, I don't only judge characters by their past. I judge them by their capacity to change.

Walter White is a brilliant character, but he's not a personal favorite because his arc is a slow descent into hell. Rick's slowly climbing out of his crater, and while it doesn't erase the past, it's still happening. For me, that's more satisfying than watching a monster become a bigger monster.

Of course, he's still not above cosplaying as Odin while wearing a golden crown that literally says "GOD." But the former "no girls allowed" alpha male has become a dedicated therapy patient who's also a thirst object that would make bros cry about double standards. Sure, Rick, you're a god, now put on that weird half-shirt and prance around a little.

[evolutionsvoid]

While many Illhveli are proud to show their ferocity and strength, not all members of this group are famed for their offense. In this case here, this particular Illhveli is known for its incredible defense! Yes, tooth and tusk are imposing weapons, but such intimidating tools are worthless if they cannot pierce such an impenetrable hide! The Skieliungur boasts such armor, and it is certainly what draws so much attention to this particular species.   Despite its appearance, the Skieliungur is indeed a whale. It is just hard to recognize it underneath that impressive armor! The other name this species goes by is "Shell Whale," which should tell you all you need to know! This whale is heavily plated with keratin armor, from snout to fluke! Though they are strong, they are highly articulated to allow this beast to properly swim through the ocean. In a sea filled with hungry predators, which often includes other Illhveli, such a defense is crucial! No tooth or claw can break through these shells, making adult Skieliungurs practically immune to predation! Not only is it good for protection, but these same shells can be used for communication. The sound the plates make when rubbing together can be used as an identifier for individuals of the species, as it is supposedly unique for each one. By making purposeful motions, they can practically stridulate! This is how they talk to one another, rattling their own shells to say hello and goodbye! They can apparently say way more than that, but researchers have yet to fully decode such a strange language. One particular thing that is known about their communication is that they may have a word, or sound, for death. We can never be sure of the true word for this kind of language, but it seems certain that this noise is meant to warn of danger. Folk have equated the sound to that of iron being grounded and filed, a rather grating noise. When this sound is used, it gets them all in a panic, desperate to flee from this mentioned danger. It honestly makes me wonder what would get them so scared, especially since they have more armor plating than a paranoid knight!

Their armor protects them from being eaten, but what protects the other sea creatures from the Shell Whale? The answer: not much. Skieliungur are ravenous eaters, devouring anything they can get down their gullets. Their mouths are an odd combination of that of a toothed whale and that of a baleen whale. They have a huge gaping maw that can suck in gallons of water, but instead of those hairy bristles, they have teeth! When they open their mouth, they suck in anything in front of them and then shred them in this toothed chamber. The pieces are swallowed while the water is flushed out, preparing their deadly jaws for the next feast. This type of feeding allows them eat anything that fits, be it fish, seals, unwary swimmers and more! Most of the time, they target schools of fish, looking to swallow the entire group in one gulp! They are big beasts, and thus have large appetites! Some have suggested that this shredding maw could be used to envelope larger prey and slowly grind them to paste, but this seems unlikely. First, their actual throats are quite small, so food needs to be cut down to a particular size. And second, such a feeding method would be very awkward and cumbersome. You would first have to deal with a huge thrashing beast trapped in your mouth, and then take the long time to slowly whittle away at them. Gives plenty of time to get hurt by struggling prey and one terrible time trying to swim or stay afloat with such a weight in your mouth! So I think they just stick to a regular diet of fish and the occasional piscivore that might get sucked in along with them.

As a member of the Illhveli, you should already know what people think of this whale. They are hated and feared, but honestly some of this animosity isn't their fault. As a species with a big mouth and big appetite, they tend to eat a lot of fish, which already makes fishermen hate them. When one of these whales is on the prowl, know that every school that hasn't vacated the waters will probably be in its stomach soon. The other thing that makes this species an "evil whale" is that people kind of keep running into them. Literally. The Skieliungur tends to float near the surface as they travel or hunt for food, meaning their bulky mass can get in the way of ships. The armor that protects them from predators also makes them a bit uncaring when something approaches them. They assume that their thick shell will easily protect them, and they are often right! The issue is that boats don't deal with this armor so well, and they don't really have the chance to stop or take evasive action when they realize they are headed straight towards a lazing Shell Whale. Striking the whale will cause it to react, which often involves it thrashing or trying to throw the "attacker" off. So those who crash into a Skieliungur and don't immediately capsize will only get a brief moment of relief before the angry whale tries to finish the job. It is unfortunate that this species was given the "evil" label, as these interactions seem to be the result of "wrong place, wrong time." Unfortunately, once the whale gets mad about getting struck, it comes across as the aggressor to those aboard the ship. Most stories suggest that these "accidents" or actually purposeful, and thus why it is an "evil whale," waiting to knock over ships and devour the sailors. I honestly think it is just a misunderstanding of a terrible situation, as I don't see the whale getting much from eating a couple of fishermen. Not to be rude, but I don't think that is a whole lot of meat, and this whale has a big ol' belly to fill! Speaking of eating, a strange fact about the Skieliungur is that it is the only Illhveli that does not have that special poison in its flesh. This means that the Shell Whale is edible! How bizarre! This strange exception has made many researchers wonder the reason, as how could such a toxin be absent when the other sea beasts seem to be rife with it? I have heard theories suggesting its diet as the culprit, while others think the armor shell eliminated the need for such a poison. No real definite answers have been found, but we do know that it can be eaten! Good luck trying to find Shell Whale on the menu though, as eating it also means having to hunt it. With armor plating like that, no harpoon will ever have a chance at downing this beast. Whalers don't even look at this whale when they come across it, as it is a lost cause trying to down one of them. So honestly your best bet of tasting Shell Whale is carving a chunk off of a washed up carcass! This is still not recommended, and not just for sanitary reasons. If you know there is a Skieliungur corpse there, then there is a high chance that the Skeljaskrímsli know it is there too, and you don't want to be anywhere near such a thing! There is a reason why research of a washed Illhveli carcass is so quick and sloppy, as you got to get your samples and notes as fast as possible before the feeding frenzy starts. You get too close to the main course and you will wind up as a surprise appetizer!     Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Back to the Illhveli! Turns out I still got a ways to go, so might be picking up the posting pace!

[youngbugandtonystank]

And now anti Tony people are blaming him for letting Sam’s family being in financial trouble wtf the man is dead! Let him rest!

Yeah, I saw. 

They’re definitely going to keep doing that, gotta say, the MCU never failed with Tony's character, they created circumstances for him exactly just like Stan envisioned. The ‘love-to-hate’ trope is strong when it comes to him, this is what Stan wanted out of Tony Stark's relationship with his fans/audience. Thing is, the reality of the MCU superhero is that they’re all flawed. None of them are exempt from anything. Why Tony gets more hate than the others?

He’s the most popular character. There’s no discussion in this instance. Popular superheroes that first come to people’s minds are always Batman, Iron Man and Spider-Man. Tony Stark/Iron Man is a pop culture legend and the fact that RDJ got to portray him as great as he did, helped a lot. People are always going to circle back to the character who has more hype and audience. 

He’s the one with the money. The fact that Tony is swimming in money automatically makes him the target of the ‘eat the rich’ mentality. People fail to remember that other characters such as T’Challa (who has more money than Tony would ever wish to see and lives in the most technologically advanced country in the world), Shuri, Thor (a literal king with a kingdom), The Pym family, Danny Rand (he has a net worth of $5 billion and is one of the richest comic book characters of all time), etc exist. And we still haven’t seen the other Marvel characters (in the MCU) that are richer than Tony like Reed Richards, Professor X, Warren Worthington, Norman Osborn, Namor, Doctor Doom, etc. 

Even if some of us see RDJ as attractive and good looking, some people don’t. For them, RDJ is nothing compared to Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Sebastian Stan, etc. It’s easier to hate a character you don’t find attractive. And also the fact that they find those actors relatively younger than RDJ. 

It’s the most shippable character. This also means he must be in the way of some other ships. Even if this sounds unbelievable, many people don’t get their irrational hate for a character until it dawns on them that they only hate him because he either treated one half of their ship unfairly or because he’s in the way of that ship. The more reasons they can find to hate him, the more legitimate their senseless hatred seems in their minds.

People don’t call out characters like T’Challa or Shuri because they’re scared of being called ‘racist’. T’Challa is so rich that Howard Stark could only buy (just an assumption, it’s a possibility he stole the vibranium lmao) only a portion of vibranium to build Steve’s shield, and because is the world’s most indestructible material, his worth is approximately $10,000 a gram (Fantastic Four #607) and Wakanda's vaults hold 10,000 tons of the material (Doomwar #1) T’Challa is not a billionaire, he’s a trillionaire lmaoooo everyone else is a joke compared to him.

Even having all of this info, Tony and T’Challa owe nothing to anyone.

T’Challa helped Bucky because of his principles (Tony offered to do this at the beginning as well until of course, he found out he killed his parents) but because of that, that doesn't mean T’Challa owes Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha money or housing assistance. He didn't give it to them at all and he doesn’t have to. 

James Rhodes: Well. You guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.

Sam Wilson: Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five star.

Wanna know why? Because T’Challa knows they’re adults and they make their own decisions. Sam chose to be on Steve’s side, Wanda did too, Natasha too, etc. Adults make decisions and they should deal with the consequences that come with that. Tony was not going to deal with their financial problems because they made a choice and it’s not his problem to deal with. Tony is not their father. People need to ask themselves why Sam was not in the ‘lift the hammer’ scene after the party, because he wasn’t familiar with them, he wasn’t friends with Tony, only with Steve. Besides that fact, they all fought Tony, hurt his best friend, and left him to deal with the rest in CW. They’re not family.

Sam Wilson: No, I'm not actually sorry. I'm just trying to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons case. Avenging is your world. Your world is crazy. Steve Rogers: Be it ever so humble. Sam Wilson: You find a place in Brooklyn yet? Steve Rogers: I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn. Sam Wilson: Well, home is home, you know?

There’s absolutely no reason Steve can’t afford a place. He’s an adult, he has a good reputation, he worked for shield (why aren’t yall on Nick Fury’s ass if he had Steve and the others as employees? Fury set an entire place for Clint, why can’t he do it for the rest of them, he is the founder of the Avengers after all), and was pretty much capable of doing stuff for others. Tony provided them with a home while they were working together, he doesn’t need to concern himself with their personal problems because they’re not actual friends. Rhodey is his friend. Happy is his friend. Also consider the fact that maybe Sam didn’t want his help? 

And let’s also take into consideration that Tony is not only an Avenger, but Tony is also a businessman, an inventor, an engineer, has a company to keep an eye on, he is the one who finances the Avengers’ messes and other superhero messes too by co-owning the department of damage control, etc. He has other things to do. The rest of the Avengers are adults too, they should seek a job that could give them a future too, not just depend on Tony’s money. Tony had a family and he had to make sure they were covered after his death, this includes, Pepper (his wife, therefore she gets his stuff), Peter (his son, he left him EDITH, he’s basically set for life with that given the A.I. has access to the majority of his things including bank accounts), Morgan (his daughter; his responsibility), Happy and Rhodey (I’m sure we’ll see what he left them in Armor Wars). Why? They’re his actual family. 

If some of you know this and you’re still looking for reasons to put the blame on him, you’re failing to recognize you’re obsessed with hating Tony just for the sake of being right. Wouldn’t you like a life where you don’t have to constantly look for reasons to hate on a fictional character, better yet, a character you don’t like at all. Why the effort? You can love Tony and Sam at the same time, I promise you, this is not going to kill you. 

So please, instead of whining about Tony Stark all the time, why don’t yall just enjoy the fact that the show is showing you a vital and important event that happens in life while representing a part of Sam’s life to add to his emotional depth and character development? Especially because he’s a superhero and possibly the next Captain America, it’s good to see someone who is supposed to be a figure (superhero) whose actions or achievements are far greater than what people expect deal with normal things. They’re giving you a background; a solid storyline for his character. Let it be. Enjoy the shows yall, you can’t keep coming back to blame Tony for everything that happens after every single movie or Disney+ show, look for another metaphorical punching bag. The man is dead. 

[johns-prince]

John also had a lovely mix of masculine and feminine physical traits, though this wouldn't become obvious until 1968. When he was on the skinny side (which I loved, sue me) you could tell how beautifully delicate and dainty his bone structure was, way more than Paul's imo. He had those gorgeous long legs and graceful narrow hips that you most commonly find in fashion models. And I love that until at least 1975, he showcased his body beautifully, especially those legs.

Ironically I feel as if people didn't embrace John's femme beauty as well as they did with Paul. I don't know why. Most people seem to prefer him with the more masculine look of 1966. Which was great as well, he was gorgeous but I am a big fan of the 1968 to 1974 run. Btw, note to fanfic writers: please, show John's body some love, I know Paul is stunning but it's kind of exhausting reading 10 pages about how pretty he is and when it comes to my boy John he barely gets a paragraph 😂

Alright, I feel like I’m probably gonna rub a lot of people in this fandom the wrong way with what I’m going to say but this is my blog and you did send this to my inbox so here we go; At the end of the days these are my thoughts and feelings and I might not articulate them very well or I often ramble till I do!

I have my issues, and a complicated relationship with 1968-70s John Lennon. I love John, and thought him healthy and just right in his body type, basically up until 1968, and it’s spotty onward throughout the 70s. To me, John was naturally masculine looking, there’s not exactly an era or year that I could give you like you gave me [Specifically 1966? What about his teddy boy days? All of the early 60s? Hell even throughout the 70s, to me John still was masculine looking to me] He was a bit awkward in his teenhood, but all the boys were, and gradually grew into his adult body. Boy was built and sturdy, naturally thick and strong. 

So we’re probably split on this, because while you see the positives in 1968-1974/70s John, I only really see the negatives. You say skinny, I say malnourished and/or sickly. Depressed druggie who was pushing everyone and everything he loved away, and becoming pathetically dependent on an individual like Yoko [and the other vultures during that time who were terrible influences] 

George was skinny, John was not well and either starving himself or simply using drugs and alcohol as the basis for his diet. And diets.. don’t even get me started on that, the diets he was on, the unhealthy lifestyle that his wife only seemed to enable and help him get on. 

When I look at George, sometimes I get the need to feed him, like an old Mexican mother. When I look at John, who’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight for what it looked like for his body type, I don’t see delicate and dainty bone structure. I see a man who just, he’s not well, something’s wrong.

I’ll give it to you that 1974 New York photoshoot looked very nice, he had muscle again in his arms, though he was still relatively skinny, he didn’t look sickly, or depressed. So I can give you that period during the 70s, I will give you that [hey he was away from Yoko during this no fucking wonder he looked pretty good here] and that shoot was definitely a model moment, wasn’t it? [Not like he didn’t have many of those moments throughout his life] 

So there moments in the seventies where I think John doesn’t look half bad? Even relatively fine? Certainly, I’m devastatingly attracted to this man, dear God almighty have mercy on my soul yes I am. So I’ll agree that yeah, there were periods during the 70s in which John seemed to hold himself fairly well, I’d still climb it.

But I’m at least willing to admit that when John started his spiraling, in 1968, that he was Not Okay. And I personally believe he wasn’t all that okay throughout most of the 70s too... Maybe my issue isn’t with him being ‘skinny’ as it is I don’t like the underweight/severely underweight look on John, I just don’t. The incredibly unhealthy way he went about losing weight... Physically frail doesn’t fit him, and it only upsets me whenever I see photos of him that show how thin his legs became or how you can see his ribs, just how wasted away he’d look at times throughout the 70s, up until the last days of his life. 

You want a “skinny” or ''skinnier'' John Lennon? A healthy, ‘’skinny/skinnier’’ John Lennon for his body type, is ‘66 and ‘67 in my eyes, and even then it wasn’t a radical change in weight loss; John still looked like John.

And speaking of 1968-1969, or the White Album era; don’t think it isn’t lost on me when I see people making light of John’s unhygienic appearance during the making of the White Album. Boy was depressed and hurting for whatever reason, again, spiraling, and getting lost in Yoko and heroin as a means of escapism and someone to tell him ‘it’s alright it isn’t your fault it’s everyone else’s fault’. Of course he didn’t care much for his personal appearance or hygiene... I will say I appreciate your appreciation for him during that period, instead of getting the whole ‘stinky/smelly rat man.’ Maybe I’m too much of a ‘’stan’’ but I don’t find it very amusing or endearing. 

Don’t find me mocking or ‘’teasing’’ Paul’s depressed ass and his appearance during the breakup period/white album era-- but I suppose it’s because Paul actually tried and wasn’t on hard drugs, and had a good wife, so he was able to wear his depression and struggle with alcoholism a bit better, hmm? I don’t like Paul’s beard simply because I know it was the result of his lack of energy, depression, and falling into the drink-- he simply didn’t feel the need nor had the energy to care for himself, so that’s why he let it grow out. I don’t like it because of that, but that’s as much as you’ll get from me. 

Anyway... Maybe I just don’t see John as characteristically feminine/effeminate as Paul, although he has his moments of acting and wearing clothes that are campy and elegant or give off a softer appearance, specifically around 1968 and throughout the 70s. But otherwise, I can’t agree, John didn’t have the same mixture, or balance of masculine and feminine traits as Paul-- and if it’s only made obvious during the downfall turning point of The Beatles and John (1968), then I don’t think that really counts as a ‘’lovely’’ mix of masculine and feminine traits for the reasons I mentioned. So I’ve got to disagree. John's always come off as much more masculine, or naturally masculine, both physically and characteristically, to me.

You know maybe it’s just the blogs I interact with, but I feel like it’s the other way around. I know I can sometimes come off as aggressive but at the end of the day I don’t necessarily care what one person thinks or believes, since it’s all relatively subjective to our own ideas of things and biases, etc... I have my thoughts and beliefs and theories and whether people agree or disagree with them on tumblr dot com... Well, what’re you gonna do? Nothing, it’s not my problem. 

What I 100% agree on you with is about showing Johnny’s body a bit more love and attention to detail when it comes to writing about him in fanfiction! 

There’s his auburn red hair, a darker ginger, which was thick and fun to watch as it lit up like fire when sunlight hit him, and could easily go wavy and curl when left unkempt and natural. The splattered and scattered galaxies of light freckles up and down his arms, his shoulders, his back, even a couple on his face. His aquiline nose, a relatively square jawline and facial structure, thick, heavy eyebrows which really intensify expressions of rage and hurt, almond shaped eyes which are the color of honey-amber when the light hits them just right and outlined with thick, long lashes, blind as a bat without his glasses but can give a mean squint which either helps scare off trouble, or brings it right to him, especially when he’s got thin bitten lips that could pull off a devilishly cheeky smirk or a no-good, charming grin to showcase teeth with the upper front turned slightly in towards each other, gives that imperfection which truly just perfects it-- a face like that of a tragic hero in a Greek Romance, distinctive and handsome. How he just oozed filthy sex and genuine trouble, sweaty leather and smoky dancehalls and rock & roll that crawls up your spine like an orgasm. Hips that could roll like Elvis and strong legs, thick thighs which would make a lovely place to sit. Broad shoulders, strong arms that could easily manage to lift you up and manhandle you in any way he’d like. Big hands, almost like shovels-- beautiful hands, with fingernails usually bitten short and occasionally had black ink or charcoal under them from when he’d be working on art, and rough, callused fingertips from playing guitar till they split and bleed, add a lovely roughness to any gentle touching he might do. A naturally thick midsection, a normal, healthy layer of fat which covers the sinewy just beneath. Any hair is light, light and lightly colored, on his arms and legs and chest. Cute tush, nice butt, a nice boy butt, slightly muscular bubble butt. 

Fun facts; he had the largest feet out of all four Beatles. John isn’t circumcised. John and George share the same height. John has a surprisingly long tongue. John’s skin tone may be light, but for comparison, he’s much tanner compared to Paul-- he’s a bit more olive or wheat to his skin tone, and tanned very, very well. John’s cheeks could become easily red though. John liked the scent of citrus to wear--  he was also self conscious about the fact he could easily sweat and so usually wore such colognes or scents, didn’t want to smell bad. He started smelling of witch hazel when with Yoko. Despite his issue with sweating, he didn’t smell bad naturally. John was a true romantic, being an artist outside of being a musician/rock and roller-- he just didn’t like to show it, and growing up in his time, you couldn’t. John’s a swimmer, he loved to swim and loved the ocean. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Post-credits scene II (Iron)

Words: 1,931

Chapter 11  Chapter 12

Masterlist

2011

Part of the deal to train Lily is for an agent to be aware that each aspect is carried out according to the directions of S.H.I.E.L.D. The little girl, hearing this, did her best to make that agent just be Natasha. Although she did not imagine what she was waiting for her.

The thump of her body against the ground is not so loud, but that doesn’t mean it was less painful.

"If this had been real, you would be dead,” says Nat looking at the girl.

"I can't feel my body,” she complains she dramatically.

"Time's up," says Tony arriving at his new home gym. He approaches the ring. “Come on, Kid. It's movie time.”

"I can’t, I’m dead.”

Nat laughs, Tony watches her.

"I know you and Fury are trying to turn my daughter into James Bond, but even I think this is too much."

“We’re not trying to turn her into nothing. This is just for her to be prepared."

“Whatever," replies Tony, Lily is slowly exiting the ring. "C'mon, spykid.”

After a bath, Happy, Pepper, Tony and Lily get ready in front of the TV to see the next Star Wars movie.

"Have fun!" Nat yells as she walks out of the room.

“Wait!" says Lily getting up from the couch. She runs to the redhead. “Don't you want to see the movie with us? We have popcorn.”

"Honey, I think Natasha has things to do," says Pepper.

Lily looks at Nat with a pout. She laughs.

"Which movie?"

"The return of the jedi.”

"Star Wars?"

Lily nods.

“You'll stay?"

“Sure."

Lily takes her hand and guides her to the individual chair, hands her a blanket, and goes back to her place.

"Why doesn't it surprise me that the Starks are geeks?"

"Hey!" Tony exclaims. "I'm just trying to teach my daughter culture,” He excuses himself when he sees Nat's mocking smile.

From that moment on, movie night has been held twice a month and Natasha is always invited, regardless of whether it is training day or not.

***

"I'm not sure about this," says Lily shivering on the edge of the pool. She has floaties on each arm.

"Easy, I'll be with you,” affirms Happy.

Lily's heart is pounding, she can hear it. She had never been near a pool before.

She slowly sits on the shore and tucks her legs in, feeling the warm water.

“We'll go little by little,” says Happy taking her hands. He pulls and she falls into the water.

"No!" She squeals clinging to the man's body.

"Lily, calm down, I won't let you go, I promise…”

"Class is over,” She says.

"We haven't even started!”

"I see that we’ve progressed,” says Nat walking towards them.

"C'mon, Smarty. Don't you want to show Nat how great you are?" Happy tries to cheer her up.

"I'm not a little girl anymore,” She complains, moving away a little. "And I don't need to prove anything to anyone," She frowns.

"Well said," Nat adds.

“Okay," says Happy defensively.

Lily nods, but then she remembers where she is. She squeals and hugs Happy again, making him laugh. The abrupt movement makes her a little dizzy.

"C'mon, Lils. The floaties will help,” encourages Nat.

"I don't think it's a good idea," She answers, blinking. Her vision begins to blur.

"Trust a little," continues Happy.

Lily sighs and loosens her grip on him. Little by little Happy takes her away to know how to use her arms and legs. She holds onto the shore while Happy swims to show her his movements.

She sighs, shakes her head trying to focus her gaze, thinking that it was her nerves that caused that.

"Your turn,” says Happy.

Lily gets into the position and with awkward movements begins to swim slowly, she smiles.

"I'm doing it!" She squeals. Nat and Happy celebrate behind her, but her excitement ends as their voices grow farther and farther away until they are replaced by a high-pitched, piercing beep.

She gasps and stops. This time, she feels a pressure in her chest, which started with a strong heartbeat, now it seems that her heart is getting weaker.

"I don't feel good," She whispers. Her eyelids weigh down on her and she loses her vision fast. Her weakened body slips away.

"Lily?" shouts Happy when he sees her still in the middle of the pool.

Nat frowns and walks to the other side, she kneels when she’s in front of Lily.

"Lils?" She calls her.

Both adults panic when the girl stops moving. Natasha jumped into the water to help her, Happy swims towards them. The redhead takes Lily and climbs her up, neither wasting time to get her out of it.

The door of the mansion is open, Tony runs to see Natasha trying to make the girl react.

"What the heck happened?" Tony demands kneeling on the other side.

"She was swimming and suddenly she didn't move,” explains Happy, upset.

"Jarvis," says Tony.

“Apparently her body had a reaction against the water, sir. Her pulse is stable now, but I register a drastic change in molecular compounds,” reports Jarvis.

Lily slowly opens her eyes.

"Kid?" Tony calls. She turns to see him. She inhales deeply and exhales trying to speak. He leans in to hear her better.

"I can't move,” She whispers.

"What?" Happy asks.

"Do you put any other chemicals in the pool?" Nat asks.

“No, and that doesn't make sense. You would also have some reaction,” He answers confused.

He takes Lily in his arms, the four enter the mansion.

Thanks to Tony's technology and intelligence -with the help of S.H.I.E.L.D.- They discover that Lily cannot be in large amounts of water. The pool, the sea, she can't even spend a long time in a tub.

"I told you it was not a good idea,” says Lily taking the mug of hot chocolate that Happy gives her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was going to be so bad," He says. He sits on another bench next to her.

"Don't worry, I didn't know it either,” She adjusts the blanket that surrounds her.

They both drink chocolate, waiting for Pepper to finish scolding and asking Tony a thousand things. Ever since she found out what happened, she hasn't stopped yelling at Tony and hugging Lily.

***

"Fix your eyes on the mannequin," Nat says behind the girl.

Now both are in a special room of S.H.I.E.L.D, something similar to a shooting range, the difference is in the fire extinguishers in the back.

“Now," Continues the redhead. "Imagine flame in your hands, feel it, do not stop the tickling.”

Lily sighs and obeys. A soft flame spreads in the palms of her hands.

"Don't limit yourself, nothing bad will happen," She assures.

The flame increases in size.

"Concentrate and launch it towards your goal.”

Lily takes her time. She pushes the invasive thoughts away from her. As if it were baseball, she throws the fire at the mannequin. The projectile hits the target's chest directly. The girl smiles satisfied, she turns to her left, meeting Nat's smile.

“Again."

**

"I was thinking.”

"I hear you,” answers Nat.

“The guns are supposed to have a spark. They can produce fire.”

“Correct."

“So, do you think I can stop the bullet from coming out? As soon as the spark is produced, make the bullet explode?"

Nat frowns.

“We could try, with certain measures, but not for now. What made you think that?"

“You’ve told me that this is all to defend myself,” She shrugs. “Many times someone will try to hurt me with a simple gun. I did some research on the structure of one and came across that."

“It’s good to learn things about your enemy.”

"How do you know who your enemy is?" She looks right into her eyes. “You've told me that I should not trust anyone except my family, but how do I know that someone is my enemy and who wants to be my friend?"

Nat sighs.

“For now, I can help you with that and I know Tony will too. It's not easy, Lils. That's why I told you not to trust anyone. It’s complicated, but you should always be aware of who tries to enter your life. We will not always be with you, so you must keep an eye out.”

The girl nods, processing.

"C'mon, just one exercise and you can take your break.”

“Finally!"

***

Outside the facility, Natasha looks closely at the girl.

“I saw the video in a workshop where you made something similar to a shield. I want you to do it again,” demands Nat from the other side of the glass.

“But I don't know how I did it."

"What did you think when it happened?"

“Well, the armor was going to explode near me. I thought: I don't want to die!"

The agents monitoring the exercise and Nat laugh.

"That works. Think that again. We have practiced, now I want you to imagine fire as protection.”

"That makes no sense. The fire only hurts,” replies Lily.

“Fire also serves as survival, light, warmth, and protection. Imagine a shield, remember what you told me about that night.”

“Good," the girl sighs.

She closes her eyes, remembers the orange particles around her, the thin layer that protected her from the big explosion.

"Good girl,” says Nat.

Lily opens her eyes. The shield surrounds her, almost touching her skin, but it doesn't last long.

“Again."

***

“Kid, come to the workshop. I have a surprise for you,” says Tony from the intercom in Lily's room.

"Did you make me an armor?" She sits on her bed quickly.

“Nice try, but no."

She follows his voice and enters the workshop.

“What's the surprise?"

“This," says Tony standing up from the chair. In his hands he shows a black suit, similar to what surfers or divers wear. She frowns without understanding. Tony rolls his eyes. “I designed it to withstand high temperatures. I could see the expense on my card when replacing a half of your clothes.”

"They were accidents,” She defends.

“Well, they won't happen anymore. Try it on,” He says, holding out the suit. She goes to the bathroom and in minutes she comes back. She caresses the soft, flexible material. “How is it?"

"It's comfortable,” She says moving.

"Are you trying to burn it?"

She looks at him in surprise.

“You sure?"

“You're supposed to have it under control now, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah,” She answers nervously.

"Just try to burn the sleeve.”

Lily concentrates, makes a small flame and puts it on the opposite sleeve. She waits a few seconds and then pulls it away from her. The material of the suit resists.

“It’s a good start. I did several tests, I guess in time we’ll know for sure. I’ll ask the super agents to do more.”

"Do I have to use it all the time?"

"If you don't want to burn your clothes, yes.”

“Fine,” She looks towards her desk. "What are you doing?"

“Investigating," He answers returning to his seat. She follows him.

Desktop screens display many pages and reports along with some photos of a WWII soldier.

"Who is he?"

“Steve Rogers. Captain America. Fury gave me some files on a possible team."

“But he was in the war. Why do you want him now?” She asks without taking her eyes off the files.

Tony watches her, he knows that face. He knows that won't be her only question.

"Sit down, Flower. It's time for a lesson.”

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[impalementation]

Do you think the trio were good as villains? (As foils, as obstacles etc) I know people tend to dislike them in general

Anonymous asked:

Why do you think “the trio” make sense as the antagonist of season 6?

i’m combining these two asks together, since they’re both about the trio.

i love the trio as villains. they might even be my favorite villains in the whole show. angelus and glory are both classic, and easily my favorites after, but the trio just get under my skin—much like season six in general—in a way those classic villains don’t. adding a cut for length.

i think a lot of what i like about them was covered in these two excellent posts by @comradesummers, so i’ll probably end up repeating some of what she said. i’ve also talked about the trio before myself, so there’s a good chance i’m repeating my own past posts as well.

but to put things in my own, new words. the reason i love the trio is because of how many levels they operate on, and how interesting those levels are.

on one level, the mundane nature of the trio and their villainy parallels the depressing, irritating banality of adult, real-life problems that the season spends so much time exploring. it’s very deliberate that after a season in which buffy defeated a god, she finds herself antagonized by a cringey trio of boys her age. the writing emphasizes the lameness of the trio enough times that you know this choice was on purpose.

scenes like:

BUFFY: I'm just saying, all the things that have happened lately? Okay, the, the bank robbery, the jewelry heist... XANDER: The exploding lint. BUFFY: I-is it me, or do these things seem really- ANYA: Lame? BUFFY: (shrugs) Well, I was gonna go with unusual, but, yeah.

or:

DOCTOR: Buffy, you used to create these grand villains to battle against, and now what is it? Just ordinary students you went to high school with. No gods or monsters...just three pathetic little men...who like playing with toys.

the fact that buffy dismisses the trio, but eventually finds herself in danger of them, echoes the way that she struggles to “defeat” the problems of adulthood that she thinks she should be able to handle. as she says in “flooded”:

BUFFY: Okay, it's, it's bills, it's money. It's pieces of paper sent by bureaucrats that we've never even met. It's not like it's the end of the world. (she thinks about that for a moment) Which is too bad, you know, 'cause that, I'm really good at.

the fact that the trio is so “ordinary” and “lame” adds to that season six feeling of having been rudely brought to earth. of the magic of childhood being left behind, and having to deal with problems you can’t build a myth around. there’s just something so real and brilliant to me about how wrong it feels that these are buffy’s antagonists. because of how well it evokes that wrong feeling of: this is what adulthood is? these are the problems i have to deal with? it seems so easy, so why is it so hard?

the second level of the trio relates to the first level, in that they represent the mundane dangers of real-life misogyny. season six is all about making the metaphorical literal (ironically, as a metaphor for how the transition from childhood to adulthood can feel), and so there’s something very fitting that in a show that has spent a lot of time creating horror from metaphorical, supernatural misogyny—it suddenly becomes literal. no more swim team jocks becoming rapacious fish monsters, no more frat boys sacrificing girls to a snake demon, no more vampires cornering victims in dark alleys. and okay, the trio is still doing spells and such. but besides that, everything about them is so normal it becomes disturbing. they are simply boys who feel disempowered in their own lives, and think this entitles them to play with other people, particularly women, because they barely see those women as people in the first place.

there is also something crucial to the fact that the trio are the villains that are most like the writers, and who the writers probably conceived of as their audience. it’s on record that many of the nerd debates that the trio have were lifted directly from debates the writers would have amongst themselves. the writers were also on fan boards, and well aware of the fact that their show was popular with very nerdy people. which means that when they made nerdish avoidance and entitlement a villain in season six, it was another way of bringing the show to earth. by making the trio into some of the show’s mostly subtly, yet acutely, horrifying antagonists there is an implication that: misogyny and wrongdoing is not something that only oafish athletes and distant authorities are capable of. it is something that anyone can be complicit in.

which is also why the third level of the trio, the fact that they act as mirrors of all of the other characters, works so well. because season six is when the show makes some of its most beloved characters do very bad things. the protagonists become aware, just as the audience does, of their potential for complicity in evil. and i think this is a very very important aspect of becoming an adult for the show to capture. to me, becoming an adult means becoming responsible for yourself and your moral choices in a way you aren’t quite, when you’re younger. bad choices are a bit cuter when you’re younger, a bit more forgivable. you’re growing, right? but at a certain point that stops working, and you need to own your choices. and that means being able to recognize that you’re capable of being the villain, so that you can choose differently.

so over the course of season six, all of the characters get tempted by irresponsible and easy ways out. sometimes they give in, and sometimes they don’t. but no matter what, the trio is there to help frame the actions of the protagonists. so for example, while the trio robs banks and steals diamonds, buffy takes a difficult job, and doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity to blackmail the doublemeat palace. or the fact that buffy is giddy at being turned invisible in “gone” is framed as troubling in part because the trio are giddy at the idea of invisibility as well. and of course: willow, spike, and buffy, and how they behave in intimate relationships, all get paralleled with warren and the trio. what tara says to willow in “tabula rasa” for example, is much like what katrina says to the trio in “dead things.” (TARA: “violate my mind like that? how could you willow? how could you after what glory did to me?” WILLOW “violate you? i…i-i didn’t mean anything like that, i-i just wanted us to not fight anymore” / WARREN: “i just, i wanted us to be together” […] KATRINA: “well this is not some fantasy, it’s not a game you freaks! it’s rape” JONATHAN: “what?” ANDREW”: “no..we didn’t…”). or buffy’s “tell me you love me” exchange with spike in “as you were” is almost word for word what warren says to the mindwiped katrina in “dead things.” and of course, there’s the fact that spike and warren both assault the woman that they claim to care about in an attempt to get them back.

does this mean that all of our protagonists are irredeemably evil? of course not. the reason that warren ends the season flayed and burnt alive is because he repeatedly commits to doing the wrong thing. while the scoobies and spike don’t, because as flawed as they are, they still ultimately try to make better decisions. but it doesn’t mean that they’re not capable of harm. and specifically, the kind of harm that comes from not seeing oneself as truly capable of it. spike thinks he doesn’t hurt buffy, willow thinks she’s just trying to fix things, jonathan and andrew think they’re living out a comic book. this is why i also love how the season lulls you into a sense of complacency with the trio. you think the show might be playing their hijinks straight, and validating their less-than-savory plans as funny, until “dead things” pulls the rug out from under the season and shows what the writing has been doing with them all along. that wake-up slap of katrina saying “rape” is like the slap of willow’s breakdown in “wrecked” or xander leaving anya or warren shooting tara, or—and this takes us back to the central metaphor of the season—buffy being brought back from heaven. that slap of “childhood is over, it’s time to be responsible now, and it turns out you’re fucking up at it.”

this honestly is just the surface of what i could talk about with the trio, and it’s already long enough as is. and when a villain has that much thematic richness in it, i just can’t help but love it.

[redxblueihateloveyou]

What would you say are Rin and Haru's biggest flaws, individually?

Hmmm... I think when it comes to Haru, it’s firstly his stubborness, like he’s one of those people who would rather go broke, than budge from their life principles, which is not necessarily bad in my opinion, but it’s just very impractical and sometimes can lead to, well.. season 2 kind of thing, when you know... you gotta think about your future and realize that in reality you can’t be “fully free” in life, or like how you gonna pay the bills haha (like I skipped school a lot like him too, but this kind of thing doesn’t really matter if you can pass anyway, cause you smart without them and like reading, but after school you still gotta do smth, and even tho I undestand the whole “turning smth I adore into profession can make me hate it” dilemma, there’s still ways of figuring out how to go around it, which thanks to Rin he did, so it’s all ok).

But that was like s1-2 Haru’s problem, now he’s completely changed and grew up so nicely and behaves like an adult and does everything he needs to do, once he realized what his dream is, plus he didn’t even faulter after the Albert thing and I was so proud of him, I just didn’t expect such radical growth tbh, so it’s getting harder to find the flaws in him lol

The second one (and that once again not now!Haru related), but it’s been mentioned in the books too is his unwillingness to accept help. He’s like a real tough cookie, when it comes to this. Like the only two people who can make him do it and whom he allows to are Rin and Nagisa. And that's mainly because they manage to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt his dignity, I think. Cause like with Makoto for example, Haru stated that every time he tries to help him, he does it in a way, that makes him feel pathetic and weak, like Makoto is pitying him. And I don’t know if anybody ever experienced this, but when you feel like someone pities you, normal people’s pride just won’t allow to accept any help like this, and when it comes to ppl like Haru (and coming from a person like this xD), he’d rather die somewhere in a dumpster, than accept it haha. Which leads to situations like “I’ll let all Makoto’s mom food rot in the fridge, but won’t touch it, even if I starve and pass out.. cause I have my own rice, you bitch” haha

And I know it’s kinda a bad trait to have maybe, but I understand it. Plus it’s really mostly past Haru related, I mean, after the last movie, when they released a scene, when Haru himself went to ask Ryuuji to train him (well, in his own savage way, ofc and disrespectfully in the middle of the night haha, but still), I kinda think he’s dealing with this real good and gonna be okay. But in case something too drastic happens, everyone knows they should call Rin lmao, but now it’s okay, since he’s gonna be always near us anyways:)

Rin... well, his biggest problem in my opinion is the fact that he’s complitely oblivious when it comes to reading people’s feelings. And I mean, most might think that’s it no biggy and just a cool trick to have, but no needed in general, but to be honest it can really help you in life, and in Rin’s case, literally half of his problems wouldn’t even be there in the first place. 

I know, it’s very ironic, since he’s obsessed with watching melodramas and it’s really funny in moments, like when he thinks Gou is into Momo or smth like that... like him being clueless about other ppl is pretty harmless. But when it comes to his personal love life it’s just, it gets sad and just absurd. Like okay, he didn’t get that Haru didn’t want to let him go and that he was heartbroken seeing him cry (although since when Haru runs after people, and physically refuses to let them go idk), but he also apparently thought that Haru asking him to call him was just him being polite... and even after everything was resolved and Haru dropped the new team and everything, just to say that without him he doesn’t even need swimming, and after knowing that Haru wasn’t even swimming all these years... he still didn’t get what it was about. And let me just remind you, that he returned home on each holiday with a thought that Haru didn’t want to see him and when Gou said that it killed me, it seriously killed me!

He wants to call Haru, but then he doesn’t, cause “what if he disturbs him”... when Haru literally said to his face that he can’t wait to see him again, when they went to their sakura date, when Haru was all “pls come back soon”... but nah, Rin’s brain still went “he doesn’t want to hear you, let me pine here”.

He fucking thought that Haru called him and ran to him in the middle of the night... because he was intersted in Gou. I’m... shoot me, pls.

I literally know only two fictional characters who were oblivious to this extent. And the other one had to die, reincarnate, and be on the verge of dying again to realise this and only after he was told openly by another person “bitch ya blind”, so I honestly do not know how do we deal with this here lmao

The second one (and that once again mostly about past Rin and I think it’s fine in that age)... he was a drama queen, he’s like “I quit!!!!!!!!” and he throws his goggles and he kicks the trash bins and squeezes and throws cans around, but we all know that he just needs to calm down a bit and he’s gonna keep going xD And that’s perfectly fine, I mean, I have such days, too, but the problem is that many people around him actually take his words seriously, so like, idk... I get it, everyone gets emotional, but maybe be careful about throwing words like “I never have to swim with you ever again” out there, some things are hard to forget, even when they’re said in the heat of the moment. Like, did you ever like say smth in the middle of the fight that you didn’t mean, but just cause you knew it would hurt the other? This is like very common, but still wouldn’t recommend xD And it applies to both of them actually, like Mr.”What dream? What future?” is no better haha, although Rin still wins the crown, cause in s1 he was offended by literally everyone, and he was like little Godzilla all cause he thought Haru didn’t want him back lmao. Which really leads us back to his first and only problem:D

P.S. Their biggest flaws tbh were just like a normal part of growing up thing in my opinion. I just feel like they were both extra in their own kind of ways back then, but now... looking at them now, the way they talk, the way they behave.. I mean, they grew up so nicely and their characters progressed so nicely, that I don’t even know what flaws they have now.. well, except for Rin still not getting anything, when it comes to Haru’s feelings. He was like “you’re the one for me” and Haru went “same” and Rin went “hahaha well, okay, we must not say that, do you want me to show you how to put your seat down?” and then he fell asleep... yeah #EXTREMELYSLOWBURN #YOUMIGHTDIEWATCHINGTHEMBUTITSOKAY #TOTALLYWORTHIT

I’m just literally waiting for them in 2021 to have a scene from the memes:

Person A: I love you.

Person B *is heartbroken*: Who is You? Do I even know him?

Person A *points at B*: No. You. I’m in love with you.

Person B *turns around to see that there’s no one behind him and starts crying* Well, of course you’d love this beautiful piece of air, before you loved me.

Person A: Jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick...

[neomikey]

For June 2021's #ryukoprompt!  Time to go swimming!

I don't have a favorite “summer memory,” exactly.  However, I do remember growing up that summers were always a proper season book-ended by the end and start of the school years.  The weather grew warmer, I was relieved for three months of the obligation of going to school, and that time was spent hanging out with friends any day of the week, playing video games, and sometimes my parents would take us all somewhere for vacation.

Some place that was a staple of the summer, though, was the Hobart Community Pool, though we all just said “the Hobart Pool.”  As of this writing, it's 59 years old and is still in operation today, though they've added more from when I was a child.  Growing up through the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, it was a basic pool – technically two – and we all loved it.

It was a meeting place, where you and everyone you knew were likely to bump into each other at some point in the summer.  All manner of people grouped there, from the young to the old.  We would spend hours there at the pool and the time always went by quicker than expected.

You passed through a wooden gate house, where you would show your membership or pay them.  The main area where the staff was had two large windows – one facing out to incoming customers and one facing in towards the main pools.  They had music playing there, pool supplies on the wall, and were generally easygoing.  All the staff were that I encountered.  You then passed through a gendered show area, where you could clean up and change, and then you were put out in front of the kiddie pool.

Almost no adults ever hung out in there.  The shallowest end of the pool was two feet deep, where the absolute beginners – regardless of age – could literally get their feet wet.  The pool deepened as you went further in, until you stood at one end where it just reached three feet.  There was no paint on that end to mark how deep it was, but I remembered as a kid being absolutely sure it was three feet, since the water went up to me the same amount when I was in the other pool.  I felt like a genius.

The other pool was the main pool, which is in the shape of a large L. The main rectangle went from three feet gradually down to five feet. Of course, this also meant that as you went deeper, the people swimming generally were older as well.  This pool was mainly where I and everyone else did our swimming.  In the middle was a huge water slide, and at the end deep in the five-foot section was a basketball hoop.  I remember my dad frequently playing over there.

The smaller rectangle of the L was the deep end – 12 feet – and was separated by a rope which no one was allowed to cross.  This was where the diving boards were.  Normally, the deep end was only for people using the diving boards, but oftentimes they would allow open swimming as well.  I remember being older and being able to get to the bottom, where I would stand and walk, simply because I could.   There were three diving boards.  Two of them were on the outside and were short, and the high-dive was in the middle.  I think it was two stories tall at the top.

Every hour they would blow a whistle, announcing that “adult swim” had started, meaning that the kids needed to get out, rest, and let the “old people” enjoy the whole pool to themselves.  I still remember the whistle blows they would do.  If I recall correctly, there would be three bursts, which were echoed by all the other lifeguards who heard it.  When it was time to go back in, they would do one long blow that would shift its intensity, mimicking how we would say “alley-oop!” when hoisting something heavy.

Adult swim was also when people would take the time to visit their cafe...though I use the word lightly. It was there to sell cheap food like candy, hotdogs, and soft drinks. It was also the place where I was introduced to banana Laffy Taffy, and to this day, I still love the stuff.  Park benches were set up in a lightly protected area, and I remember occasionally seeing curious wasps in that area.

The pool used to have a line of trees protecting it.  They were tall evergreen trees planted side by side, and did fantastic work blocking out the wind when it came from that direction.  However, eventually Hobart's hospital was built and they built a road right through what used to be a prairie to give it better access.  Part of the road's installation involved taking down those trees.  I didn't think they “needed” to, I thought there was plenty of room, but I'm sure there was some proper reason.  My friend Tim joked this was going to cause a lot of accidents.  He said guys were gonna be driving, see a hot lady in a bikini, and get distracted.

I have many memories from there.  Most good, some bad.  I loved being underwater and would frequently be under there.  My eyes would eventually hurt from the chlorine, but that was the price I willingly paid.  I would sometimes be underwater and swim through crowds of people.  I'm told I surprised a few of them, as they weren't expecting to suddenly see a child going past their feet.

My friends and I would frequently play there.  There would be light roughhousing, but it was mostly just swimming, playing, and laughing.  We would talk about or mimic stuff we had seen in video games.  I remember squirting a line of water out through my teeth and calling it a laser.  When we were allowed to swim in the deep end, I jumped off the side and brought my limbs close to my body, mimicking Iron Man in the Captain America and the Avengers arcade game. This always got me pretty deep pretty quickly.  Other times we would try out stuff, such as someone lying on the bottom, then someone else standing on their back to keep them there.  When the person on the bottom had to come up for breath, he would stand and topple the person on top over.  I remember back skin feeling really weird on my feet.

There was a way to swim during adult swim if you were a kid, and that was to pass the “Dolphin” exam.  You had to get from one end of the main pool, down the length, and to the other side.  You had to do it while swimming properly – freestyle – and had to go straight.  It was difficult for me to pass and I remember once skewing to the side and hitting the side of the pool near the water slide.  I failed that one.  I know I did pass it at least once and wore the Dolphin badge on my swim trunks with pride that summer.  

There was one incident where I thought I was older, mature, and brave enough to tackle the high dive.  I stood in line, ascended, and then once at the top, looked over the edge.  It was so, so far down and I couldn't bring myself to jump.  I remember some people calling up to me, telling me I wasn't allowed to climb down and I had to jump.  I appreciate them trying to motivate me to get over my fears, but it only made me more scared. Eventually, I climbed down and broke into tears.  My dad was there to comfort me as I came down and I told him I would never swim again. That turned out to be wrong.

When I was old enough to drive, I started going to the Hobart Pool on my own.  My whole life up to that point I had always gone there with someone and getting to be there on my own felt like another step into adulthood.  It was a nice feeling that if it was hot out and my parents were busy, I could hop in my vehicle and just go.

As time went on, my time wasn't as structured.  I was no longer in school, I had jobs, and held different interests where the pool didn't interest me as much.  Summers were no longer an event, but something in the background that meant we had to roll down the car windows.  I didn't have a need for membership to the Hobart Pool anymore, and it wasn't until years later after I was married that I realized how long it had truly been since I had gone swimming.

Once the pandemic is over, my wife and I agree – we're hitting the pools hard.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Peculiars (Pt.1)

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

Patton Boleyn was a special child, not necessarily special in the way most would describe. He was smart, yes, but he was average smart. He was skilled in things like singing art and cooking, but not profesionally.

Looking at Patton most would assume he was completely ordinary, and he was for the most part.

But Patton could do things most humans couldnt. Most people would watch him sitting in fields and wading through lakes and rivers and say it was just him being a normal energetic child.

Patton's parents knew better, they saw the way the flowers moved to face their son, and the way the lake seemed to become empty in the spots Patton swam in.

Patton's father said they would have to keep him inside for his safety, his parent said that Patton's gift was one to be nurtured, not locked away from the rest of the world.

Patton hated the days they would argue. The way his father's eyes would narrow as he yelled at his spouse over a petty incident of a flower growing quicker than it should in the school yard. The way his parent's hand clutched the nearby table as they struggled not to raise their voice at their husband.

The day Patton asked to go to the pool was the last straw. His father had panicked, words were exchanged that Patton wouldnt forget for years. So Patton and his parent had packed up their things and left. Patton found out later that they hadnt been happy in the marriage with his father either way, so Patton was glad both of them had escaped.

That was how the first nine years of Patton's life had gone, and the next five had been full of Patton hiding his gift from everyone except his parent.

They had the most vibrant garden in the neighborhood, and a little pond with a small waterfall in the backyard. Patton would watch the koi swim through the pond, manipulating the water to small bubbles occasionally so he could lift the fish out of the pond without hurting them. He had to stop doing that when the neighbor tried to catch it on camera and call the police.

Patton didn't mind having to hide, but sometimes it hurt, he felt wrong, he wanted to run around in lakes and fields like he used to, wanted to watch the water ripple under his hands, and flowers bloom where he walked. But it wasnt safe anymore, people were scared, they wouldnt trust someone like him.

Today felt different, he'd woken up same as usual, to his parent's voice calling him down for breakfast, their soft brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. It was almost identical to his own, only a little darker, and a lot less healthy from all their years of dying it as a teenager, they'd told Patton that if he ever wanted to dye his hair he would have to wait a while between sessions so it wouldnt fall out.

Then he'd gone to school and had a perfectly ordinary day, he'd done well in his classes, he talked to other students, and he hadnt caused a single flower to bloom or ripple in a puddle of water.

He was beginning to think that the feeling he'd had this morning was just nerves, until he walked home to find his parent on the front porch with a woman who had white hair with streaks of pink and blue. The woman was smiling and talking to his parent, who's face was one of shocked Awe and silence.

"Patton! There you are!" His parent threw their arms around him.

"What's going on? Who's this?" Patton put his hands in his pockets, an expression of concern on his face.

"Mrs. Hera Raven, she runs a school for kids like you," Patton's jaw clenched.

"You're not sending me away are you? I haven't done anything wrong!" Patton stepped back, he'd almost tripped into the street before his parent caught his arm, their deep blue eyes were full of a mix of sorrow and understanding.

"No one is saying you've done anything wrong dear, but people with your talents arent safe out here, Mx. Boleyn has agreed to let me take the two of you somewhere safer," Mrs. Raven was smiling, Patton noticed her lipstick was an odd blood-red color. Patton looked between the two adults, the confusion in his face only becoming more pronounced.

Mrs. Raven's face shifted suddenly to one of fear, "we need to leave, quickly, follow me," she gestured to a car.

A few minutes of driving later they had come upon a collection of oddly shaped rocks, and disappeared through the center of them.

"Now hurry up hurry up, we'll be safe once we're at the school," Mrs. Raven said, ushering them through the woods. Eventually they came upon a large building, it was made of bricks and stone, and the brick was painted black.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Patton said, fidgeting with his clothes.

Mrs. Raven looked around for a few seconds, Patton noticed that, rather than both her eyes being the bright green he thought they were, one was a striking yellow color.

"Patton, you are what we call a peculiar child, it's a recessive gene in families that manifests in, as you might call them, supernatural abilities in children," she said.

"You mean theres more kids that can do what I can?" Patton said.

"Well, not exactly what you can do, they all have their own abilities, you can meet more of them here," Mrs. Raven said.

"Oh, and the main rule, now that you're here, you cant leave, if you leave the loop you will be in danger once it resets," Patton opened his mouth to ask another question.

"Loops are rewind in time created by ymbrenes like myself, they are used to protect peculiar children such as yourself, some of the children within this loop have been here for nearly one hundred years, if they were to leave, they would age until-" Patton's parent covered his ears.

"So what about Bon?" Patton asked, looking up at them.

"The same rule applies to humans, typically parents who accompany their children to the school become members of staff, it's actually quite good for the children to have multiple parental figures," Mrs. Raven said with a grin.

"Patton, I'm gonna let you go make friends while I go with Mrs. Raven ok?" Bon smiled, running their hand through Patton's hair.

"Ok Bon," Patton said. He watched the two adults leave before finally walking into the main portion of the courtyard. There were dozens of children chasing each other and playing around, and adults talking to each other on the sidelines while watching their children.

"Watch out!" Patton barely had time to react before a basketball came hurling it's way across the garden, a tree branch curled it's way around the object just before it made contact with his face.

"Wooooaaaahhh! Awesome!" Patton moved the tree back into the ground, picking the basketball up and turning on the direction of the voice. A boy that looked a year or two older than him, with red eyes and the wisp of a mustache, was smiling brightly at him.

"So you can make trees huh? That's cool," he said as he took the basketball out of Patton's hands.

"I can control water to," Patton whispered, shuffling his feet in the grass.

"Remus! Who's that!" Another boy ran over to them, this one had bright green eyes and a mass of red hair.

"New kid, he makes trees," Remus said with a grin.

"Well come on, it's your turn," said the boy.

"Can we call it a tie for today, I wanna show him around," said Remus. The other boy nodded and ran off to a group of five other boys.

"Well, I'm Remus Duke-Prince, and I can reanimate the dead," Remus said. Patton blinked a few times while trying to process this, earning a laugh from the boy.

"Patton Boleyn, I can manipulate earth and water, which I guess are kind of similar since they both make up the actual planet anyways," Patton mumbled, tapping his fingers together.

"Boleyn? Like as in beheaded Anne Boleyn?" Remus said. Patton nodded and flinched slightly as Remus let out a loud howl of laughter.

"Come on- let me introduce you to my favorite people here," Remus said, grabbing Patton's arm and running over to the group of six.

"Everyone, this is Patton, Patton, this is Roman, Logan, Virgil, Janus, Emile, and Remy," Remus said, pointing at each of the boys in turn.

"Roman Prince-Duke, yes, I'm related to the rat," Roman said, picking up a rock and holding it out in front of Patton. Patton was about to take it from his hand before Roman closed his fingers around it, when he opened them again a light blue gemstone had taken its place.

"He makes rocks boring," Remus said, laughing. Roman let out an annoyed huff before fixing the gem into a silver necklace and clasping it around Patton's neck.

"Logan Mercedes," said the boy next to Roman, he had fluffy brown hair that seemed pushed to one side of his head.

"I can breath underwater and see in the dark," Logan said before turning to the boy next to him.

"This is my boyfriend, Virgil," Logan said, moving a lock of vibrant purple hair out of Virgil's face.

"Do you want to show him?" Logan whispered to Virgil, who was fidgeting with his hoodie strings. Virgil gave a slightly nod and Logan pulled a rope out from his belt, wrapping it around Virgil's waist. Virgil bent down to unlock what seemed like iron boots fastened to his legs. The moment he'd stepped out from the shoes, the boy was a few feet above the ground, Logan holding the rope with one hand and Virgil's hand with the other. Logan helped Virgil back into the boots, fastening them back up before he took off the rope and placed it back on his belt.

"Virgil doesnt talk much," Remus said simply before turning to a boy with a large scar on his face. His skin was a dark brown, which made with yellow eyes stand out all the more obviously.

"Janus Allen, I can talk to animals," he said simply, bowing slightly and placing a kiss on Patton's hand, Patton noticed Remus shift slightly and let out a soft giggle.

"Remy Hypnos, and this is my little brother Emile," said the boy next to Janus, his skin was a lighter brown than Janus', and he was wearing sunglasses despite it not being very sunny out.

"Hes like medusa, and I can move stuff with my brain," Emile said, fidgeting with the bow in his hair.

"Well now that you've met all of us, welcome to the loner squad Patton," said Remus, clapping a hand on Patton's back with a grin. Patton thought he might enjoy it here much more than he'd first expected to.

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

Tag List:

@nerosdayinhell

@meowthefluffy

@thecolorfulolive

@thefivecalls

@melodiread

@spooky-scary-virgil

@youtuberswithalex

@boobmaster69

@januses-nap-corner

[fuwafuwamedb]

From Utu’s Temple Pt 2 (Gilgamesh, Siduri)

Thus far: 1

__

Eight Years Later

__

She’d escaped the temple again.

Weaving her way through the crowds of marketplace people, her cloak firmly wrapped around her body, Gula couldn’t help but to be excited about the adventure today. Her brother was so careful, guarding her like a lost treasure. Her mother was so concerned about them venturing out, keeping close to Grandpa Utu and Grandma Aya.

However, she knew nothing was better than the river breeze after a heavy rain. The large puddles were fun to splash in, muddying her skirts and cloak. The riverside was filled with fish who’d jumped out of the water in the heavy rains, thinking themselves amongst the currents. She’d dug a careful hole earlier in the day, before the others had awakened and while the earth was soft. Now she could see the fruits of her labor.

Her mother always said that meat was a delicacy. Today she would bring lots home.

Gula hurried up, scooting around a stray horse and beneath the large bridge that went from one side of the great Euphrates to the other. She could see the overflowing river. She could see some smelly dead fish, being pecked away at by the scavenger birds.

Her hole was filled though, a splashing showing signs of success.

“Yes!” Gula cheered, quickening her pace. She pulled the pouch from beneath her cloak, setting it down upon the soft earth and opening it.

Her brother’s knife from Grandpa Utu was in hand in a flash, slicing one after another of her catch.

She set each carefully into her pouch, pleased at the size and the colors of them all.

There were eight. They’d be dining like a king!

“YOU! THERE!”

Gula jumped, scrambling to pick up her pouch as a set of men appeared. Their grip was upon a figure, the man’s golden armor was coated in blood.

“GIRL!”

She ran for it, but the others were closing in. She could see the symbols on their armor. She knew those medallions from her grandmother’s teachings.

Nippur citizens!

If they were hurting someone, then it was an Uruk person.

Their hands grabbed at her cloak, yanking her back. She couldn’t think, not at the sight of a knife. She spun her twin’s blade in her hands, sending it into the face of the man holding her. The heel of her other hand slammed it home, yanking it out as another went to grab her.

Her hand rose, blasting energy into the faces of the other three.

She didn’t think, only felt. She felt scared. She felt lightning in her veins, spurring her like Iskur’s mightiest storms. She flew from one to the next, slamming blow after blow.

But then a shadow rose.

She could feel their presence as her blade went flying out of hand. She could see the man’s eyes, the whites of them reflecting her own face. Her mouth was open, a sound escaping-

Gold flashed before her.

A sharp squishing sound met her ears, blood pouring towards her as she saw the assailant falling. The man from before, the golden armored man who had been being carried, was now before her. There was a large slash and crack in his armor.

“…M-Mister!”

Gula felt a lump forming in her throat. Her vision was swimming as the man pulled away from the bad man. He was looking to her.

“Mister! You’re hurt!”

“Your eyes…”

The man looked so much like Grandpa Utu and her brother. Gula couldn’t help but to feel the water around her eyes falling forth. She had to rub at her face with her sleeves, pulling at the armor and looking at all the blood.

The wounds were bad, worse now that the sword of the bad man had been pulled out.

He wouldn’t live if she left him like this. She needed her brother, Ur-Nungal here. He would have been able to help this man. He always was teasing her at being bad at magic. He always warned her that she would need the magic at some point and she would be useless.

“…I-I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help it. Her voice cracked as she looked at the pretty man, feeling her heart tear in two. “I should have listened to my twin. I-I can’t do magic well. I can’t-“

“You can do magic?”

His voice was just like her brother’s. Gula nodded to him, feeling her chest shaking in soundless sobs.

“Do you have the energy? Right now?”

The man was pulling off his armor more, throwing it aside as he looked to her.

“Girl, do you have that power right now?”

“I’m not good at magic. My ummum and brother can. My ummum is the best. My twin and I were born from a half god and my ummum. My brother can do anything-“

“You can do this.”

She shook her head, her sobs beginning to escape.

“Shhhh,” the man murmured. “Shhh, there is no time for finding help. I feel my senses fading already. You merely need to hold onto my shoulders and imagine the wounds closed. Imagine me without the pain and torn up chest. Can you do that?”

“I have to do more though-“

“Listen. To. Me.”

He made her look into his eyes, his gaze dark and focused.

“Can. You. Imagine me without the pain and wounds?”

Gula nodded.

“We do this together,” he told her, keeping that gaze. His hands moved hers to his shoulders, holding them there. “What is your name?”

“Gula. I was named after my grandmother and patron goddess… OH! But don’t tell my ummum that I picked a goddess!”

“Gula, focus.” The man held her hands to his shoulders. “Close your eyes. Imagine giving me the energy to heal. Wish all the pain away.”

Right.

It wasn’t much, but she had to try. She had to do something.

Her eyes closed, her thoughts focusing only on seeing the man able to stand and run again. She wanted the man like her brother and grandfather to be able to laugh and feel better again. He didn’t need to die here, like the fish being eaten by the buzzards. He was too pretty. He was too kind in saving her.

“You’re doing well,” the man murmured. “You are doing very well. Just a little more, Gula. I will be fine from there.”

She pushed for more power, giving as much as she could.

Her eyes opened as she felt her body swaying.

“I’ve got you.” The man wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as she saw the wound was closed. “You did well. I am healed and you’ve saved the great king of Uruk. Let none tell you that you cannot use magic.”

“I did it?” Her eyes drifted up to his, earning a soft smile.

“I am able to breathe and function again because of you, little one. You’ve done your family proud. Your goddess would be pleased to hear that someone of her namesake saved her son’s life.”

“Ninsun is my abum’s ummum too.” She closed her eyes, humming happily. “I can’t wait to tell my brother that I saved someone with magic. He teases me too much.”

“…Your father is the child of Ninsun?”

“Mhmm.” Gula leaned against the man. “I left my fish beneath the bridge. I caught them for Ummum since she was feeling lonely and sad again. I think she misses my abum.”

The man nudged her gently. “What is her name?”

“Ummum is named Hakuno.”

“Hakuno… Hakuno…”

Gula glanced up, watching the man looked at her once more. His eyes were strange like hers, making her reach up and touch his cheek.

She frowned.

“Why do you have strange eyes like mine?”

“Child-“ he shook his head as he said that. “Gula, your eyes are exact copies of mine. As is this power of yours. It is little wonder you’ve done this… You said you had a twin brother?”

“Mhmm.” Gula closed her eyes again. “And Ummum and Grandpa Utu and Grandma Aya. Utu and Aya keep us in their temple. Grandma says it’s dangerous to let anyone see us outside the temple. Someone may tell the bad guards that hurt ummum.”

“Gula-“

“I’m sleepy.”

The man sighed, standing up with her in his arms. She could feel him adjusting her around, turning to head towards the kingdom.

“Please don’t leave my fishies and my brother’s knife. I took the knife without asking.”

“Thievery?”

“Ur doesn’t share his weapons. He has more knives and he’s just mean.”

She hummed at the soft kiss to her forehead. It felt like ummum’s own, except with rough little hairs from the man’s chin.

“Mister-“

“I’ll grab your meager knife and fish. Close your eyes and rest for now. We’ll return to Uruk and I will ensure that you are cleaned up before we inform the temple of Utu of your presence.”

She nodded, letting the fatigue take over.

The man was safe and alive. She’d been like the great magicians in their storybooks. She’d managed what many adults could never do.

One day, she’d protect her twin brother and they’d roam all over the kingdom of Uruk, free from cloaks and able to laugh like the other children.

Maybe they could wear nice clothes too.

“I will keep you with me, little treasure,” the golden haired man told her. “Let us return to my ziggurat.”

“Don’t forget my fish,” she mumbled in a slur of words.

His soft chuckle welcomed her to sleep.

~~

“My king!”

Siduri was the first to reach him at the palace doors, her face paling at his muddied and bloodied appearance. The guards had taken the heavy pouch of fish and the girl’s knife was in his gates, safe and sound from being taken.

Speaking of the girl...

“Siduri,” Gilgamesh held up the girl in his arms, frowning. “Call forth the guards, inform them to head into the audience chamber for me. And find me servants. This girl needs to be bathed and dressed properly.”

“Properly?”

“I have children.”

The woman stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. A natural reaction, all things considered. There had never been so much as a whisper of a child of his. His maidens whom he took pleasure in never bore him so much as a headache, opting to simply revel in further lust and senseless greed.

“She shares my eyes and my mother’s voice and power. Along with that, she has my mother’s own name for herself. Gula.”

“Gula?”

It was ironic, he knew. Then again, he recalled slightly the woman whose face this child shared. Hakuno. If he remembered right, she’d been a magician. She’d been a phenomenal bed companion. 

Her death, his close advisor and the guards had informed him about, had left him disappointed.

Something had been amiss then. He should have guessed then, considering that advisor had grouped up with Nippur recently and caused him such trouble. Him and his useless daughter whom he’d slaughtered a week ago.

“...Is she... Is she alive, my king?”

“Hmm?” The question pulled him from his thoughts, making him glance to Gula. “Yes, she’s alive. She’s a child though. innocent as they come. Have a bed for her set up in my chambers in case she does not wish to rest beside her father.”

“You intend to claim her?”

“Siduri, my daughter slaughtered a handful of men and assisted me when it was most appropriate.”

He could still hear her crying over being unable to help him, a stranger, to feel better. The girl was without influence, purer than the clearest jewels in his collections. Ah, but then-

“I’ll take her to bathe myself.”

Siduri pulled back as he passed her, heading for the bathing chambers. 

“Prepare her bed in my room and inform the guards to assemble in my audience chamber.” 

“May I know what for, my king?”

“Later, you will see.”

She would be finding him servants to clean up the bodies when he was through with them. 

[halorocks1214]

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

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

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

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

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

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I did?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to take over?...”

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

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

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

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

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was easy.

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

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

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

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

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

Back to said story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The response was instantaneous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

We’re all here now.

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

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

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

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

“It was… Zambia.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“I got him.”

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

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

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

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

Son of a bitch.

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

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This kid, man.

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

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

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

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

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

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

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

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

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

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

Alan saved them both.

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

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

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

There, now he watched Alan blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made it all worth it.

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

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.

[celticfeather]

Chapter 1: Dawn

Chapter 6 Below

-Uchiha Itachi-

"Itachi, wake up."

"Itachi."

Itachi opened his eyes and regarded his partner calmly. The first thing he saw was Kisame retracting a guilty hand, and a bluish eyebrow twitched. "Did you have trouble sleeping?"

Apparently he had overslept.

"The nights in this country are short," Itachi said.

Kisame looked over at the rising sun over the waves. It was already two hours high. But the mist-ninja said nothing.

Gulls wheeled as the pair trekked along the sand. They walked in the wetness where their footprints were quickly erased by the swiping glasslike waves.

"Finally!" A voice behind them said.

The disturbance's whining tone signaled no threat and dually annoyed Itachi. Zetsu had risen from the dunegrass, grains of white quartzite sand rivuletting down the creases in his leafed crest. Itachi did not particularly like Zetsu: it was some kind of association that the plant-ninja always brought bad news.

"About time we found you two!" the white half exclaimed. "I can't see or hear well through the ocean."

Zetsu could not spy as efficiently underwater or at beaches. Itachi filed the information for later use.

"Pain requests you meet at a cave on the eastern bank of Rido Lake, in the Land of Rivers, five days from today,' he said matter of factly.

Itachi and Kisame looked at each other.

Zetsu continued excitedly. "It's a doosie, the whole gang is invited! Well, I'll give you a hint. We're going on a Tailed Beast Hunt!"

Kisame raised an eyebrow. "Tailed Beast Hunt?"

"Yes! Don't be late! Five days, Rido Lake, at noon!"

The plant-ninja seeped back into the earth. Itachi always found Zetsu's rare locomotion an anomaly. But Itachi supposed even his own powers, logical to him, looked enviously strange from the outside.

"Know anything about tailed beasts?" Kisame asked.

"The Nine Tailed Fox attacked my village when I was five. It destroyed the Uchiha complex and killed the Hokage...They sealed it in a child."

"The Mist's Tailed Beast has been missing since the death of the Mizukage."

"Hm," Itachi said. The hunt must be no small feat if the other teams were enlisted for the same task. At least, according to Zetsu, they had some days for themselves before they needed to report. Itachi was mildly curious of the mission, but not enthusiastic.

"Do we need to do anything before then?" Kisame asked.

Like say goodbye to friends and family? With a silent glance at the eastern sun, Itachi discerned their orientation, and led them in the direction of the Land of Rivers, a several days' walk away.

"It would be faster if we cut across the gulf."

"I can neither run nor swim a gulf."

"I'm not convinced you can swim at all."

The two ninja traveled a quiet day through the small countries. It was the custom of outlaws to make their routes through the disorganized and impoverished ring of states outside the great nations. These strapped militias did not track killers so long as they wandered peaceably.

As they walked along a path, the bisected village was freshly burned. A miasma of death, fine as silt and equally pervasive, clogged the air. A battlefield passed them by, and narrow flags streamed from spear points embedded in earth and armor.

"Looks like a civil war."

"Or a blood feud."

Hopping crows scattered before the two rogues. Most of the corpses wore old fashioned layered armor and carried swords. Like the Uchiha and Senju, he thought. But he doubted any were above genin in this battle.

He turned one of the soldiers over. It rolled too light in its iron shell, a woman, or a boy. A boy. Itachi searched him, but found only copper, and he left it. He did this to three other corpses, but found no food, only money.

"You check for threats. I'll search for anything useful," Itachi said, and Kisame disappeared.

Itachi stole suspicious and warily into the hamlet, a habit he could not shake despite the lack of threat. The thatch from the houses was half burned, and the village's inhabitants were dead or fled. He pushed open a garden gate.

Twisted in old rebellion against the dry summer grasses, gnarled black tree trunks reached towards the sky. His eyes flitted hopefully through the ravaged orchard like a songbird. Too high for even the lightest village children, a few orange persimmon fruits dotted the canopy.

With a flighting leap he landed on a tree's fork, picked the ripest fruit, and with his watchful eyes flashing left and right, he sank his teeth into the water-soft flesh. Persimmons were sweet and fibrous and very healthy. Life with Kisame had him eating a lot of meat. A hooded crow alighted on a nearby branch to observe him. He considered offering the bird a slice, before realizing it had ample preferable options.

The hamlet appeared abandoned from his vantage, and Kisame had made himself invisible. Itachi continued to explore the hamlet, but found little in the way of life or clues. The little crow followed him. An emaciated pig lay dead in a nearby pen. Kisame would like that. The patient crow watched him open the carcass and a squawk summoned her friends.

He walked into the mostly-intact adjacent hut with the pork balanced gingerly between his hands. The abandoned one-room house displayed a traditional kitchen: a pile of coals inset in a square hole in the center of the tatami floor. He might not be better at catching fish than Kisame, -no he was still probably better at fishing than Kisame- but he was definitely a better cook. With the pork fillet, soy sauce, peppercorns and herbs he found around the property, he practiced his art over a dead family's hearth. Kisame stepped through the threshold some time later.

"No one is here but some corpse robbers, who are hiding from us about a quarter kilometer away."

"How respectful of them," Itachi noted.

Kisame grunted. Itachi gestured for Kisame to sit opposite him as he continued to cook. Kisame's eyes traced out the window at the carnage, and he released an abandoned laugh.

"Reminds me of my teenage years.

Itachi followed his gaze. "Indeed."

The oppressive silence of dead men blanketed them. As the coal-fire stoked, the hut they sat in was empty from any laughter it had days ago. The universe had conspired to put two ruthless killers into a village that now offered no one to kill. The Akatsuki had always killed and left. Now Itachi would see what he created.

No. He spared the Leaf from this.

"The Eye of the Moon will end this excess," Kisame said soberly from across the coals.

"We'll find no satisfaction in illusion."

Kisame twitched his lip in a tight smile, unexpected to have lured Itachi to finally spar.

"How can you be sure that your belief that reality is superior to fiction, is itself not false?" Kisame's posed.

"Because I weave fiction."

Itachi had authored his ideal life once, right before he killed his clan.

He had cast Tsukuyomi on his… what was she? Izumi. He wove them a fiction of their life together, of having children, growing old and dying. And he remembered, for a few seconds that lasted her seventy years, she was happy. But through the whole thing he'd felt the unimaginable sense of dread that came with knowing he was in a dream. A few seconds later, Izumi's flesh was as broken as her mind was. And Itachi was broken in a new way too.

"I can show you," Itachi said. He hadn't meant it to be a threat but maybe it sounded like one. "What the Tsukuyomi is like."

A pause. "Don't."

Itachi let the conversation end. Kisame seemed most purposed in his whole life serving the Akatsuki. But to Itachi, his hunted years spent under red clouds was no life. He remembered no moments in the last four years where he was not either fleeing, hungry, hurt, exhausted, or lonely.

Or maybe this was normal and just came with being his age. He read that people his age needed more food and sleep. He had no one to ask. He looked at Kisame, but he decided not to.

The sweet, peppery scent of shogayaki goaded his hunger. His eyes flickered to Kisame; it probably smelled even better to him. Quietly proud of his wartime creation, he began to serve Kisame a proportionally larger serving to his own.

Kisame's fingertips interrupted his offering. "You eat it."

Itachi narrowed his eyes. For two days now he had not seen Kisame eat, on their lifestyle which burned tens of thousands of calories daily.

"There is an entire boar, already dead," Itachi reiterated.

"You're scrawny and should eat more."

He had never been spoken to that way. Silent in his irritation, Itachi ate. Kisame was an adult and a soldier, and would not die by starving himself.

Itachi's annoyance soured the food, and he had prepared enough for two Kisames. It was impossible for a single person his size to consume, and Itachi never liked overeating, especially in hostile territory.

"I can't eat all of this."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Do as you like."

He heard a small exhale from Kisame.

"Pork, it tastes too much like…" Kisame shook his head.

Perhaps he should have expected this. Itachi was suddenly uneasy with Kisame's candidness, when Itachi had been willing to bury the other day's incident. He worried he had been rude. He set his knife on the wood and stood. "Come with me."

Hesitant, Kisame followed him. Itachi halted before the orchard, the black-barked and scarcely-leafed persimmon trees stretching like dead fingers to the sky.

"I didn't think you ate fruit." Itachi explained the omittance. It seemed a ridiculous assumption now.

Itachi watched his partner's back as he walked forward, lit by the pink ash-hazed sun. He tried to focus on Kisame, or on the sunset, for if his gaze wandered, he would see the distance was fecund with death.

"Yo!"

Their eyes locked on the noise. Like a monkey from a tree branch, Tobi hung upside down from a permission limb. He completed his flip and landed sprightly on the earth to trot towards the two men.

Itachi and Kisame had the senses of beasts. No human could sneak up on them while they were awake. It was like the man had materialized from ash and smoke.

"Hi Kisame! Itachi! I thought of you, you know, and I knew I had to find you! Come see, Tachi! I found this toad that totally looks like you!"

Tobi had taken Itachi's arm and started pulling him in some direction. Itachi looked back at Kisame for something, —-he didn't know— for explanation, for sympathy, for help.

Itachi felt himself being sucked in somewhere, transported somewhere dark, then moved again back to the human world. Kisame and the ash were gone. Itachi and the spiral-masked man faced each other in a grassy plain.

The red eye through the mask was narrow, the aura menacing.

"I let slide your insubordination at the brothel. But discrediting the Eye of the Moon to Kisame is a new level of idiocy."

Fear's icy brine chilled Itachi's veins. Lowering his act even slightly to Kisame had been a deadly mistake.

"Kisame is still in full support of the Eye of the Moon," Itachi said.

The lie to shield his partner flowed smooth as silk before Madara. But he realized then its plausibility. In mentioning the Eye of the Moon, Kisame had baited and strung Itachi as deftly as he would a catfish, and thrown him to an even bigger beast.

Madara made a dismissive, subvocal noise. "Do you remember our agreement from that long night?"

"You kill the Uchiha police force and don't harm the Leaf. I help you in the Akatsuki."

"It's a pact you'll only escape when one of us is dead. Too bad for you and the Leaf, you'll die first."

Itachi lit Amaterasu then. The inferno feasted on Madara's clothes, he smelled it roast his skin, and the elder Uchiha screamed and cursed, and he disappeared in a swirl. Itachi did not know what the retreat meant, but he did not think the incident was over, so he fled for the forest.

Moments later Madara appeared on a tree branch in front of him, unflamed. Itachi kept running. This was not Itachi's first dance with a teleporter— and he knew to deal with them better than most.

The bait untaken, Madara disappeared again.

Then Madara phased centimeters in front of him. Itachi should have crashed into him, but there was no collision, rather Itachi suddenly found himself cut around the waist by a chain. Madara viced it taught around him and smashed Itachi to a tree trunk.

"Pain was never the one you needed to worry about."

Terrified and adrenalized, Itachi zapped him again with the Amaterasu. Madara swore and disappeared. Exhausted and half blind, Itachi's trembling fingers started to untie himself.

Madara returned and kicked the chained man in the stomach. "That again?"

Itachi recovered and stared at him wrathfully. Madara's only eye was shadowed by the mask, and Itachi could not establish the contact he needed for Tsukuyomi.

"Each user of the Mangekyou has one ability for each eye. Yours are the black flames, Amaterasu, and the nightmare realm, Tsukuyomi, right?"

"Take your mask off," Itachi breathed.

"I've been meaning to teach you something for a while. You buried the knowledge of Indra's clan when you killed them. They were weak, but the eldest Uchiha knew the old paths, even if they could not climb them. And orphaned, you now need instruction in using our highest gifts." Madara's voice had adopted a helpful tone.

"I want none of the knowledge that has poisoned you."

Itachi said it, but he wasn't sure he was so noble. Beneath his fear was the instinct to collect advantages. He had learned long ago to enact what sin justice demanded.

"There's a third ability that everyone with two mangekyou has. You have the eyes, but there's a nose. How's your knowledge of religion, Itachi?"

"Very well."

"Good. Then you know already what we call him."

Their eyes locked. A hypnotic heartbeat passed in synchrony.

The air cracked with chakra and the space around Madara hazed cobalt blue. Itachi's lips parted in disbelief. A huge skeleton formed around Madara, which lengthened as it became threaded with corded muscles, skin, and at last armor. A huge blue, astral samurai.

Madara spoke. "Amaterasu emerges through grief. Tsukuyomi through fear. Susanoo is a wrathful god, and his likeness is unlocked by hate."

Quick as a whip, the Susanoo lifted Itachi, its hand covered his eyes and twisted his neck like a bird, and the other crushed him until his ribs cracked. Itachi screamed, and his lungs filled with blood, and he felt his spine compressing, and he knew he would soon die. But above the pain, above it all, he hated the man before him. He wanted Madara dead. He wanted to flay the skin off him. He wanted to rend him full of nightmares, stab him through the tsukuyomi, and burn his corpse. Because if Madara didn't control the fox, he would not be in the Akatsuki, the scorned Uchiha would not have revolted, and everyone he had loved would be alive.

And at last Itachi's cracking ribs ceased. His body was wracked with pain, but he could breathe. The air tasted ozone and electric. He could just barely see that red bars of chakra, like a ribcage, had formed around his own body in protection. Madara's susanoo released him.

"I need you alive for something, for now. This ethical streak, however... I'll rub that out soon enough."

He dared the hateful glare of a man who could not stand at Madara. "I'll soak the earth with your guts."

A laugh. "Good progress."

The blur shaped like Madara admired the fallen Uchiha a moment more; in Itachi's imagination he was smug. Madara disappeared in a silent vortex from his right eye. Maybe Itachi had played into Madara's hands, but they both had what they wanted. Itachi had knowledge, and he was not dead. Itachi's fiery ribs extinguished with the threat, and he collapsed to bleed his life unto the ungrateful earth.

Author's Note:

Apologies for the wait on this one, folks. Thanks very much to beta SilverLion for her help!

See you next time,

Kelto

[tellthosewithpowersafeintower]

This is Davey, By The Way

Summary: Davey writes Jack a letter from the Refuge. So maybe he's a little in love with him and maybe he wants more than anything to know they're all going to be okay and maybe, maybe he's a little bit gone over Crutchie too and doesn't know what to do- but he'll be fine.

He will.

...And if he isn't, Davey has a few things he would like to know he said to the boys he loves one last time.

Trigger Warnings: The Refuge. Violence, references to blood/injuries, child abuse, very very brief allusions to period-typical homophobia

Notes: Holy heck it's finally here! Hi friends, and... welcome to my newest AU becoming a series. I was originally nervous about whether I should post this for Strike Day, but here we go. A huge shoutout to @all-the-lovely-newsies because I LOVE THEM and they were the first person to listen to me talk about this when I sent them like a couple paragraphs rambling about my ideas

Go take a look at @jackie-think-about-it. They made me art for this fic (an art writing combo pair)! I am so happy right now, it's so beautiful, please go give them love they're just... the sweetest and I love their work so much. Thank you so much!

A quick note: this is a Davey in the Refuge/his Letter From The Refuge AU, and in it his father had his accident at work a few months sooner and thereby Davey knew Jack, Crutchie, and the rest of the boys better by the time the story starts. I've really loved writing this and I look forward to sharing it with you all

(read it on ao3, I like... really prefer the formatting on there asdfghjkl;)

Dear Jack,

The harsh scribble of a pen on paper was as subdued as he could make it. The lanky, dark-haired boy was hunched over, perched on the edge of the top bunk. He was curled up, taking up as little space as he could manage and a mix of sweat and blood stuck his faintly damp hair to his forehead. His eye was beginning to bruise, colors pressing deeper near to the side of his nose, and two large blots of bruises were visible stretching both sides of his jawline. Davey Jacobs inhaled, a shuddery, ragged and stared down at the first words he'd managed.

The room was cold, and dark, and any sense of light seemed blotted out in an almost starless night distanced by solid stone walls, cell bars, and an island walled off from the rest of the city. The shame of New York City. Davey hesitated, tapping his pen to his chin, once, then twice. He sighed and scribbled it out.

Jack,

No. Davey groaned quietly and after rapidly removing his second attempt furiously scrubbed at the paper. His wrists were marked with neat white lines from too-tight cuffs and he wondered idly if they'd look worse in a few hours time. Had it really only been a few hours since he'd stood in the Square, side-by-side with the others? Had it really only been hours since he last heard Crutchie laugh, watched him help Les tear a pape with his crutch, or felt his heart stall in his chest in terror when the bulls showed?

His sleeves were rolled up past his forearms and his vest was strewn awkwardly and torn around the edges. Some of his buttons were torn off and most every sense of the prim, neatly done school clothes and decorum had been entirely abandoned. Davey had no idea where his tie might even be.

He rolled the pen between his fingers, hands trembling faintly before he huffed and pressed the tip and started to write again.

Dear Jack, Greetings from the Refuge.

Better. Davey sighed, ribs seizing painfully in protest. Dirt and soot smudged along his cheeks and face, and when he glanced down and around the tightly packed bunks and hunched, gaunt bodies he heard someone cough. Davey grimaced. He supposed it was a fitting intro.

How are you?

He paused and bit his lip. He pulled his leg up to his chest to brace himself and he hissed sharply. Davey's breathing went ragged and he tried to purse his lips to quiet it, his ribs twinging and vision swimming dangerously. This... Davey was more bruised than he'd ever been before. He ached in more ways than one. A thought struck him and he lurched forwards, pen shaking in his hand as he ignored the sudden spasm of pain in his chest.

Is Les okay? I suppose I wasn't much help yesterday.

Davey ground his teeth and breathed in sharply through his nose. This wasn't- this wasn't working the way he wanted it to. He reached up to scrub furiously at his eyes.

He really hoped Les had gotten out before the worst of it. The other boys had been in the midst of chaos, full out panic and screaming, and Crutchie...

Crutchie.

Maybe if he'd moved sooner they could've-

No. He couldn't go there. Davey dropped his gaze and felt his fingers twitch before he picked up the pen and tried to press on.

Les needed to be okay. He had to be okay because if he wasn't Davey- a harsh choked sound tore its way from his throat and he clamped a hand over his mouth, breathing in sharply. He went rigid, body going taught at this fierce shushing from the boys below him. He opened and closed his mouth, something twisting in his chest and he wanted to apologize. His mouth was dry and when he opened his mouth no sound came out.

He didn't think the kids here or the guards would talk too kindly to stammered apologies anyway.

(He didn't think they would take too kindly to the way sound and light burned too much too much too much and some days for all his smarts he couldn't make a noise. He didn't think the guards would like the way he blurted things out without realizing it was not supposed to be spoken and send senseless things casually and didn't like lifting his head to met someone's gaze.)

Snyder soaked us real good and went for Crutch.

Davey blinked, eyes flicking wider and he chewed at his lip nervously. Oh! Oh, right.

Oh, uh, Jack? This is David

He faltered and swallowed hard. "No," the word was a murmur but his voice was cracked and rougher than he expected. The tall boy pressed closer to the scrap of parchment and traced out in neat script.

This is Davey, by the way.

Davey breathed his name and found the faintest hints of a smile on his features. Davey. Something about the way it fell from Jack's lips made something flutter inside his chest. He didn't think he'd be anything but harsh inflections of 'David' in days to come. He flinched at the thought and made a noise of pain at the way his ribs shifted unpleasantly. He wouldn't be all that surprised to find if they were badly bruised.

He wanted to hold on to being Davey as long as he could.

All these guards, they're just rude. They say jump, boy, you jump or you're screwed.

Davey winced back. He shouldn't- he shouldn't say that. The words in his head sounded suspiciously like the newsboys' voices swelling in his head. Voices he wanted to cling to.

Jack knew that.

He'd been here before- he'd gotten out.

He didn't need to worry about Davey. He and Crutchie, the boys, they shouldn't- they didn't need to worry about kids like him.

But hands faintly trembling and something swelling in his throat, Davey couldn't bring himself to erase the words glaring up at him.

The food isn't so bad, not so far Since so far they've brought us no food!

That... there was at least one positive, right? He made a noise and deadpanned in a murmur as he wrote:

Ha. Ha.

Davey had never been much good at humor. He'd never really understood it, and he wasn't really sure anyone would find it all that funny. He raised a hand to swipe the hair out of his eyes and felt his lips quirk into a sad, bitter half-smile.

I miss the newsies Sellin papers in the evening, And a partner at your side.

He bit his lip and tried very hard not to cry. Being draped under the arm of Jack Kelly, hearing the echoing cries of "strike" when all there was was bright laughter and friendly pats and being yanked into lingering embraces, all the echoes of vibrant unending life. Maybe he was poor at hawking headlines, but he'd loved it. He'd loved the-

The next words came without thought, scratching themselves out before his brain could catch up. The pen was shakier and moved faster in his hand than he expected.

No strike or blood to pay to just get by. Any way, you know what? The square took a fair bit of thought: Coax the bulls and get goons to the window. They were scared so they took the first shot!

An army of cops and goons- that couldn't be coincidence. It couldn't be coincidence that they'd taken brutal force against kids. They'd been ready to arrest whoever they could get their hands on first, to hit kids and cart them away with cold iron cuffs pinched against too soft skin. It couldn't be a coincidence they were lying in wait to pounce on the kids the moment they took a stand for themselves.

Crutchie had gotten out. Davey could only hope he was okay. The Delancey's had shoved him pretty hard but- but Crutchie was tough as nails and had landed a few good hits of his own and the boys had him. Crutchie had gotten out and, grasping for his crutch, had made it out of the Square with Race's help long before Davey finally let himself scream.

He couldn't go there (and maybe it hurt a little that it was hard to think of Crutchie without seeing horror and tasting fear fear bitter, biting terror and lungs burning but unable to scream).

He didn't want his last memories of Crutchie to be the way he saw him last so he tried to grasp- a witty comment, the way a proud half-smile curled on his features after perfectly Crutchie snark

Crutchie who made Davey's heart do stupid flips and feelings he had no idea how to decipher because what even were feelings and why didn't they make sense- Crutchie who smiled and laughed like pure sunshine and yellow, beautiful, beautiful golden rays and Davey didn't know where to start but Crutchie was nice.

He missed them so much he ached in ways he didn't know people could ache and he didn't like it.

The cops appearance at the Square couldn't be a coincidence, the adults lying in wait to stop and smother any light or spark of life. It was too well-planned for that, Davey knew behind narrowed analytical eyes, and he thought the boys would be smart enough to realize that too.

He took a deep, steadying breath and shoved his other thoughts as far back to his mind as he could muster (he didn't want to remember) before scrawling out his next words.

It was hell for a night.

Davey felt his finger twitch, a compulsive jerk when he realized the curse had just escaped him, inked neatly onto paper. He could imagine his parent's disapproval- but all Davey managed was a tired smile.

It seemed silly and a thousand miles away by now.

That doesn't mean we've lost our fight! Pulitzer's regime's coming down, And then Jack I was thinking

Davey's words crashed to a stop, and he felt as though the atmosphere around him had shifted. He froze. His breath was heavy and he blinked furiously against the burning of his eyes.

We might just go, If you were staying? We could run away an evening To the theater, or away And if Crutchie'd come

The words spilled away, faster and faster, and that book-smart, smart-mouthed boy who'd fumbled into the streets with a slew of words echoed in his eyes. A lifetime of too many thoughts held away aching to be let out one last time.

Maybe Davey had spent too much time with Jack and his dreams of Santa Fe, but when he closed his eyes for a moment he wondered what it would be like. Beyond the cold damp walls and shuddering concrete, Jack and Crutchie's laughter filling the back of the theater. Just the three of them, together, somewhere beautiful and perfect.

His eyes flicked open and he remembered a too similar cry- was it only a day ago?

And if Crutchie'd come we'd seize our day

He let out a shuddery breath. It sounded perfect. It sounded like a date, the ones stolen for boys and pretty girls and maybe Davey wasn't supposed to want a stolen night of kisses with a boy, let alone two, but he didn't care.

He could do it. One night of stolen moments with three friends, and maybe, maybe they wouldn't think the same and all it would be is friendship but he would take anything if it came from them. Anything at all.

When he curled his fists, he wondered if the same need to cling to that dream of just a night of Jack and Crutchie and him was the reason Jack had never given up on Santa Fe.

Santa Fe.

The seeds of a dream, not a plan. But there was something so comforting, achingly perfect about that. If a place was Jack's, and Jack's want for home, somewhere to love and breathe and belong then Davey knew his was Jack and Crutchie. Without a doubt. Maybe he was a little too late for that.

Maybe Jack and Crutchie deserved better than a kid who was street stupid and stuttered eagerly through long explanations about whatever oddity fascinated him the most, oblivious to the fact no one else seemed to care, and shied under attention and burning eyes and fumbled with words when um's and uh's and uncertain odd syllables twisted on his tongue.

Once the strike makes-

The door skidded open and the reaction was like a gunshot. Boys jolted upright, leaping into position. His pen jerked hard, dragging an ugly line but Davey didn't have time to think about that. He desperately shoved the materials out of sight, hands trembling as he flung a mess of whatever cloth was nearest over his lifeline. He swung around, eyes wide, watching the looming figure who'd entered, held his breath and silently prayed.

When he stumbled back to his space in the bunk, Davey was bleeding. Badly. He was still shaking, feeling freshly forming bruises and aches he wasn't sure how to start to describe and he had to shut his eyes tightly to try and still his swaying his vision. With shaky hands, he fumbled in the dark and felt a weight of relief drop as he exhaled when his hands found the crinkling parchment of the letter. He drew it close and let his eyes rove down it and tried to smile.

Leaning into the candlelight, Davey ran a thumb along the dent and harsh scribbled line off the page at the end of his earlier phrase and winced.

Swiping blood to try to keep it from getting in his eyes, he coughed, or sobbed, some short painful noise that was gone as quickly as it came.

Damn this place.

The garbled curse was all he could muster. He didn't know what else to say. Shakily, he flicked a hand and tried to scrub the scarlet scattered drops off onto his pants and Davey somehow manage to keep blood off the paper. He swallowed a choked cry.

I'll be fine

He bit his lip hard and pushed on, hoping he could get himself to believe it.

Good as new

He didn't think he would be okay.

Look there's one thing I need you to do Newsies taught me what it all means to look after each other

I've never had friends, Jack, he wanted to whisper with that faint twinge of awe he felt hours earlier. I've never had no one like Crutch and you.

Eyes setting with determination, he scribbled out his next message.

Please tell all the fellas for me to protect one another The end

What was this, a novel?

When he heard a rattling cough and the bed creaked dangerously, Davey had to force himself to breathe. He didn't think he would be able to come out of here.

The strike had to go on.

Davey wasn't going to be there to see it.

So he set the pen to paper and hoped his smarts might be enough to give the boys one last push.

Your friend Your close friend

Davey swiped away a few shaky tears, breath hitching. And, selfishly, he decided on something he needed for himself. He breathed out and scrawled out with every ounce of care he had left.

My love, Davey

[polar-stars]

2nd out of 5 parts of an ask by @smokeprincess24

Mika Aldini

👹 How does you OC act around different people and how does their personality change to match the environment they’re in? How do they act with: friends, family, strangers, children or their lover(s)?

Mika has some hesitance in exposing her soft, romantic side to others and is prone to deny it. She only lets people she truly trusts have insight into some of her rosy fantasies. Her mom is the one who she’s most comfortable talking about such things. 

Other than that, there’s not much of her behavior that differs depending on who she’s talking about it. 

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

Mika is VERY easily embarrassed. Wether it’s about her being too obvious about her crush on Hiraku and it being pointed out, or her father’s way too open display of his love and affection for his only child…there’s a lot that can make Mika flush. 

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

Actual heartbreak is something she’ll greatly struggle with. She has not quite suffered from one yet but has only seen it in works of fiction. Mika always knew in the back of her mind that its something that happens, however she won’t be prepared for just how deeply it can hurt. Given that she always sort-off idolized romance and only ever looks at the pretty parts of it, it’s definitely something that’ll make her feel very miserable.

She’s generally rather inexperienced with feeling plain vulnerable to begin with. Another emotion she’ll struggle with (rather soon) is guilt. 

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

Mika knows both how to ski and snowboard! People know that she’s rather sporty but the fact that she possesses these skills is a little surprising to some because many find it hard to picture the sun-loving, fiery Mika in snow to begin with ahdhd. 

Well, she’s not an all too big fan of winter and when she does end up in a snowy area during the cold months she does believe that doing sport is just the best way to deal with it. 

⭐ Does your OC like to sleep alone or do they enjoy sharing their bed? Have they been to any sleepovers? Have they ever been camping? What did they think of the experiences if so?

Mika has not much experience sharing a bed yet. It’s something she imagines as very comforting and lovely though and she wishes to experience it someday with someone she loves.  

🍏 When your OC says “I had a bad day” what does that tend to mean? Is it really as bad as they’re saying or are they being a bit dramatic?

Mika, much like Chieko, has a leaning to be overdramatic at times. So a „bad day“ from Mika-understanding is most likely a string of some annoying and frustrating events, but something she’ll most likely be over with the next day. 

🐉 How religious is your OC? Do they pray to any god(s) or do they not believe in that kind of stuff? What is their view of religion in general? Where do they believe people go when they die? If your OC is not religious why not and what do they believe in otherwise?

Mika is Christian and she’s registered in the Catholic Church, but later in life actually finds herself leaning more towards Protestantism. 

She does believe in God and visits Church to important occasions like Christmas, Easter and so on but she does not go there every Sunday. 

💧 What is something from your OC’s past they’re the most ashamed of and why? What is something they’re really proud of? And lastly what is something in their past that could make them shake with dread?

She’s mainly embarrassed by some of her more intensive outbursts over more trivial things but what she’ll truly look back upon in shame will come later on. 

What she’s so far the most proudest of is the time when she cooked for the Trattoria-Aldini-Branch in Rome and the practicum Takumi arranged her in Mizuhara’s “Ristorante F” after her graduation from middle school, as preparation for her Stagiares. 

🐟 What was your OC like as a baby? What were they like as a child? A teenager? An adult? How do you think they’ll develop ten years into their future? Twenty years? Will they live to old age?

Mika, as baby, was pretty loud and demanding. She began crawling relatively early and began crying and screaming the moment she wanted something. She certainly kept her parents of her feet.

Mika was a happy, adventure-loving child who certainly enjoyed to be outside a lot. She learned swimming at an early age and her love for dancing showed as soon as she could walk, honestly. She had always been a little feisty but to her family she’d also expose a love for plushies and Disney princesses.

As a teen, she’d become a confident and bold individual who’s tired of being the sole young chef of Tuscany and out to find a worthy rival. Mika certainly lives for the thrill of the challenges of Totsuki and practically embraces the competitive atmosphere. At the same time, her love for Disney movies involving princesses has ultimately developed in a deep fascination with all things romance and a strong longing to experience it herself.

As an adult Mika will have grown in experience regarding romance and does see everything a little less through rosy lens. She’ll remain a strong individual in her adulthood, who knows what she wants and how to step up against anyone who decides to be an obstacle. She’ll be a little calmer though and have her temper under a bit better control. 

🍇 Does your OC have any bad habits? Does your OC have any addictions like smoking or drinking? How did they fall into these habits and why? 

At times she does loose her temper a bit too quickly and it’s not always necessary to yell right away. She also tends to procrastinate when it comes to studying tings unrelated to cooking.

She drinks on parties and she does have a little tendency to party a lil’ harder than necessary sometimes. 

🔮What does your OC think is their best trait. What is actually their best trait? What about their flaws? Are they one to admit these flaws or do they like to pretend they’re perfect?

Mika thinks her best trait is her courage and I’d agree with her on that! 

A major flaw of her’s is that she can be a little bit inattentive to the people around her at times. She’s very unaware of this though. 

🌸 What’s a sentence that would make your OC’s day better? One that would make them laugh? One that would make their day worse? Why? What words would you have to say to them to completely ruin their day?

“Yukihira Hiraku is about to have a Shokugeki!” is a sentence that always puts her mood up. She loves watching Hiraku’s Shokugekis! She gets to see the person she admires in action and it’s also just a great experience overall as his matches are certainly thrilling, captivating and the rest of the audience is very into it as well.

A sentence that could ruin her day is anything that suggests something bad happened to Hiroshi. She’ll either end up pissed off at whoever might hurted him or worried for the rest of the day. 

🌷 How much effort does your OC put into their looks? Do they care much about how they’re dressed or what their hair looks like or are they not bothered? Could they be considered a snob or a slob?

She has a pretty well-developed fashion sense and does take her fine time choosing her outfits, no matter the occasion (unless it’s a school day because y’know then she knows what to put on: the uniform). She also takes good care of her skin, possesses some make-up skill and takes VERY LONG to shower. It’s all things she honestly just picked up from her parents mostly. 

❤️ What inspired you to make this OC? How long have you had them? How have they changed in the time you’ve been developing them?

Mika is one of the oldest Fanchilds of mine. She’s the fifth to ever be created, I think. She was created on that faithful night in 2016 where I decided to create more fankids after I had designed Chieko a few days or so earlier and took my drawing-tools to bed to sketch and color them ahdhd. Takumi/Ikumi is one of my first ships in the series as well and, back then, I didn’t saw much else option for either of them...so my decision to let them have a child was pretty automatic.

Mika did not change all too much over the years, really. What mostly got added recently is her frustrating love-triangle situation and also her story was just ironed out more over the years ahdhd but character-wise she remained more or less the same. Takumi and Ikumi honestly share a lot of the same character traits in the end and I think that’s a reason for that. 

🧡 What traits of your own do you see in this OC? Are they a little bit self-inserty? Don’t be shy, we all put parts of ourselves into the creations we love!

Hm, I don’t think I have all too much in common with Mika. She’s very brave and challenge-enthusiastic and I’m....one of the greatest cowards you’ll ever meet being frank. 

What we do share I guess is a strong love for the sea. Also, I do enjoy dancing (although I am not anywhere near the level she is) And I mean, she cooks Italian which is one of my favourite cuisines...but there’s really not much she takes after me ahdhd. She has much more in common with my mom than me being real. 

💚 Are you writing anything with this OC or planning on writing anything for them? Do you rp with them or are they just for fun to mess around with?

I have a few ideas but I don’t know if I’ll get to it soon.

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

Mika, Mika, our beautiful helpless romantic Mika. Did I mention already how greatly her love-situation frustrates me? I really want her, the romance fanatic, to get happy with someone but ahhh who?? She’s also one of my first OCs and actually pretty dear to me and ahhh, WHY?!

But meep, aside from that and my whining about a situation I drove myself into; Mika is honestly really fun to write and I love the trio she’ll have going on with Kimiko & Hiroshi. It mirrors the classic Sōma/Megumi/Takumi-Trio in certain ways but it won’t be an exact rehash either so ahh. I’ll just enjoy writing this I think.