#the specific abuse....gets buried and trapped for a long while

[skunkes]

do tell about talon being in the itwv universe...... interesting!!!!! i luv vampies

less about him actually being in there bc he has different vampire biology

but more bc of the Gay People With Personality Disorders Who Happen To Be Vampires and Thank God, Non White Vampires reasons... also bc while watching ive realized he's got a lot of backstory traits from these existing characters which is fun to me, a fun spin on and unknowing tribute to existing vampire media/characters, which i need to read and watch more of....

idk how he'd actually fare with the rest of the characters since idk enough about em (looking at the IWTV book that has been sitting unread on my shelf for 4 yrs) but i still keep getting oh my goddd put him in there (and put ME in there) thots

[ps-cactus]

Shades of Silver Lining - Ch. 5.2 - posted ✅

Ch.5.1 <- | Ch.6 (in progress) | the first post aka story teaser + tags

word count: 3600 ✨ [ AO3 ] ✨ [ Wattpad ]

a/n: As always HUGE thanks to @accio-bagel for beta reading! Reminder that the whole story is rated MATURE for various forms of traumas and violence. Tags and trigger warnings specific for this chapter: Main: Family Conflict, Toxic Family Dynamics. MOSTLY NOT EXPLICIT: Physical Abuse, Parental Abuse, Parental Neglect, Sibling Abuse. Also: Self-Doubt, Guilt, Occasionally BITTERSWEET, ESCAPE PLANS, Hurt/COMFORT, Internal Conflict, Manipulation, Coping Mechanisms, PTSD Symptoms, Moments of Self-Loathing, Mentions of Pureblood Supremacy, Mentions of Arranged Marriage, Mentions of Alcohol.

I'm sorry again - this might be a bit sadder than 5.1. Chapter 5 in general is the saddest and the most painful of all this story. It will get better eventually, I promise.

Summary: Second part of several scenes of Ominis' days in the Gaunt manor. He's still trying to stay steady on the thinnest, most absurd sheet of ice imaginable, that might shatter completely even from his one sharp inhale. 

The whole pt.2 below the cut:

"No, don't stop," Mother's quiet voice came too late, as Ominis had already lifted his hands from the keys and released the pedal. The echo of the grand piano's dignified tone seemed to last longer now. He suspected the room was even emptier than it had been in the summer.

He had hoped to gather his thoughts, taking advantage of his father and brother's absence that morning. Alas.

"The Burkes are hosting a rather grand dinner this evening," Mrs Gaunt went on, having waited in vain for any response. There was something alien and intrusive in her voice today, matching the way her hand now lingered on the piano's body. "We're announcing Marvolo's engagement, before he'll be gone again for a little while."

"I have classes tomorrow morning. I can't stay," Ominis said, gently lowering the lid over the keys. His N.E.W.T. classes mattered too much; he needed to keep as many job options open as possible. It was far more important than anything involving his brother. He stood, but his hands felt frozen on the lid, as if already pinned there by the inevitability of the next words he would hear. 

"That's nothing to worry about," Mrs Gaunt replied, her voice feeling distant because of how much he didn't want to hear any of it. "Your father has already settled it. Sit down, Ominis."

He only reached for his wand on the music desk, the simple action feeling impossibly difficult. The crackling of the ice beneath his feet returned, sharper and louder than yesterday. What will happen to it by tomorrow?

"Your turning of age this Wednesday gives us the perfect excuse to host a dinner ourselves. Just a modest gathering, of course, but your father needs every chance for a productive meeting these days. I trust you understand."

Birthdays had never meant anything here. But of course, this one was a convenient excuse for a ‘productive meeting' for them. And three more days for him, trapped in a place where every hour felt heavier than the last. His mother's request carried his father's demands loud and clear. Ominis couldn't afford to provoke them, not while he was still at school, within their effortless reach. 

The rustle of her dress  and the faint creak of the bench let him know that his mother sat beside him. "One more thing. You'll need to have a word with Mrs Black today. Because your father and I want to invite the Flints on Wednesday. They're her family, as you know, and we want them all to get to know you better."

The confusion quickly gave way to the growing, familiar blazing knot in his chest, creeping upward to his throat. There it was again. A matter he thought long buried, something he dared to hope he'd never hear again. 

"I was under the impression the Flints had declined long ago."

"We convinced them to think it over again. It wasn't simple, Ominis, and we expect you to appreciate that."

This wasn't the first time he heard that arranging marriages had grown increasingly difficult for his family. His parents' success in finding a future wife for Marvolo felt like both a stroke of luck and an act of desperation. Though he knew their lineage wasn't quite up to his father's expectations, the Burkes were a family Ominis had known all his life—just like the Blacks or Flints. He considered it at least remarkable that his parents managed to actually find someone for him as well, despite his problems reaching beyond the family's general issues.

He hesitated longer this time before answering. "You really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble on my account. It makes me feel rather awkward."

"Don't worry about us, Ominis. What matters are these sacred alliances. I want you to have everything you deserve, without giving your father a reason to doubt if you're worthy of it."

Noctua's will, brought up again as if the memory of her was  theirs to use however they pleased, normally against him. He hadn't planned to live out his life in one of the family's houses—never, not for anything. Especially not when the only one who had ever given that place a sense of beauty or comfort g was no longer there to do so. But a faint yet steady hope lingered:  that selling it quickly after graduation, before his family found out, might make his new life more bearable. He didn't want to be the burden he'd felt like here, not to anyone, not ever again.

"Just show some respect, and it will make things a little easier for us," Mrs Gaunt said at last, breaking the heavy silence. "Surely that's not too much to ask."

Ominis stepped away from the piano, giving his mother only a parting nod.

The only thought that held him together was knowing this girl—and that she wouldn't come of age for another three or four years. Protecting his future, however, meant enduring just eighteen months and twenty-one days—a time in which they needed to believe he had no control. The real challenge was to maintain that illusion without truly losing his grip. He had to stay steady on the ice, even as it cracked dangerously beneath his every step.

The silver brooch bearing the family crest felt like it was burning a gaping hole in his body. Tracing his finger again and again over the ridges dulled by time, Ominis desperately wished, but did not dare, to remove it from his jacket.

Faint voices and the occasional clink of glasses carried through the air from the house. The charm he'd used to warm the garden bench was slowly wearing, but he wanted to stay a little longer, away from the hypocrisy of his father, who wasn't truly pleased about this engagement. Away from Marvolo, who grew more obnoxious with each drink he downed. Away from the unspoken words about Hogsmeade that hung heavy in the air; Father had brusquely silenced someone's question with one of the usual honoured guests, Headmaster Black, seconding him. 

Ominis quietly snorted in disgust, thinking back to his summer. For the first time since starting school, he had endured all six weeks at home instead of just a few days at the end of the summer break. All the dinners and parties he never missed. The people he couldn't stand. He had happened to hear Black casually reassuring someone that the ‘goblin issue' at Hogwarts had been handled by the professors, dismissing some girl's involvement as purely accidental and not even worth discussing further. Those were the Ministry's words—Foster's official public stance, as Alyn had explained. Now, Ominis found himself wondering how Black managed to be so-called friends with such a great variety of people. These games required exceptional skill, something that could almost be admired if it weren't used so wickedly.

The sting returned, a sharp ache as Ominis thought about how he couldn't write to that girl—to warn her, to explain why he hadn't returned today. It wasn't possible here; he was acutely aware of his every move being observed. Eighteen months and twenty-one days.

He heard the patter of small feet on the stone path, and let go of the brooch, gripping his wand with both hands. Its signals suggested that someone small, roughly three feet tall, came to a halt nearby—probably an elf, yet again, or possibly a child.

"Hi!" came the familiar child voice. "Are you all alone here? Why?"

"Go back inside. Your mother must be wondering where you are." Ominis gestured toward the house, already hearing the approaching clack of heels that was about to shatter any of his hope for a quiet moment alone. 

"Sweetheart, Uncle Ominis doesn't want to talk to you." Korentha's voice dripped with venom as she said his name. "Belvina is waiting for you; be a good friend and go play with her." 

The boy didn't need much convincing and dashed back toward the house. Ominis felt a desire to retreat just the same and decided to act on it, rising from the bench. His sister stepped in his way in an instant, the cloying sweetness of her perfume making him feel dizzy.

"Your manners are worse than a four-year-old's. It's almost as if you're not happy for our brother." 

"As the one blessed with sight, you should've already noticed my unmistakable glow of happiness. I'll be back, so everyone can marvel at it properly."

He tried to walk past her, but Korentha seized his elbow with a sharp grip, just as his wand emitted an almost imperceptible low hum. 

"So you can speak in full sentences? Try to finally prove it to the others."

A child's squeal and a woman's shout echoed from the house, prompting his sister to let go of him and rush back inside, her perfume persistently lingering in the air. Ominis trailed after her, deliberately slow. No one here truly wanted him around, and his absence would go unnoticed; his mother had already ensured he exchanged at least three polite phrases with Mrs. Black. On other occasions, he might have passed the time talking with Phineas, as he often did during these gatherings, but tonight he was the only student present. 

He wished the garden would somehow become a Hogwarts courtyard.

"I told you, I'm not going back," Ominis says firmly. He is sitting on a bench, warmed by the dry spring air.

"Suit yourself. I just…" The footsteps draw closer anyway, accompanied by a soft rustle of parchment. "We're having a little break now, and Sharp handed out essays. I grabbed yours. You spent two whole nights on it, after all."

As Ominis shoves the parchment into his bag, Alyn lets out a quiet chuckle. "Oh, and Grace's murder plans are off. Apparently, your essay points made up for the… incident. Is it always like this? People out for blood over every house point by year's end? Can't believe it still matters to anyone, after… Alright, I better go. See you later." 

She touches his shoulder in passing, her steps soon receding on the gravel path. For just a moment, Ominis finds himself tempted to rejoin the lesson he detests.

"Don't test my patience. Put your wand away and sit."

Another dinner lay ahead tonight, with a smaller and slightly different group than Sunday's, but equally unpleasant. But for now, Ominis sat in a stiff chair near the unlit fireplace in his father's office, wondering if he was the only one in this house bothered by the relentless cold.

The reasons he imagined for his father's early return from work and the sudden summons grew darker with each thought. He latched onto the ideas he'd been running through his mind for days to make sure they would sound natural if he had to voice them. He had no ties to Sallow left. No associations with Muggle-borns. None of it even bothered him. Only family mattered. 

Eighteen months and eighteen days.

"I've just spoken with Foster," Father began, his voice chillingly even. "Care to guess what he had to say?"

Ominis was aware of the silence stretching too long, but he required the pause to keep his expression and the fingers on his knees as steady as he could. He stood on the thinnest, most absurd sheet of ice imaginable, so fragile it felt like even his sharp inhale might shatter it completely. 

He finally found his voice, which couldn't afford to waver. "Something calculated, no doubt. Did it involve Marvolo? Foster seems to think he has all the answers there."  

"I made it clear to Marvolo to stay out of Hogsmeade. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Ominis hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly, glad he was sitting. "It'll be a relief not to be questioned by the Aurors about him again."

"Speaking of Aurors. As I understood, After Solomon Sallow's death, the Ministry provided ‘support' for your friends until they come of age in summer. Sallow has become something of a pet for the Hogsmeade Aurors, hasn't he? Tell me, how long have you known?"

"I've heard something, but as I said before—we're not friends anymore, just people who once knew each other at school."

His voice didn't shake and was devoid of feeling, even though he longed to curse, shout, flee, disappear. Maybe even to wherever Sebastian was, to ask why he hadn't mentioned the position was only temporary. Anywhere but here, stuck in this suddenly frozen conversation. The oppressive silence hung heavily as Ominis waited for his father to speak again.

"That's foolish, Ominis. He likely knows more than he should. What if the Aurors have been using him to dig into you—into our family?"

"It would be difficult, considering he knows nothing significant and has no way of finding out now. If he really did, why would Foster warn you of a potential threat? He didn't bother to hide his disdain when speaking to me."

"I know of his offer, and I am pleased you refused. Good. Well done. What interests me far more, though, is why he assumed you'd humiliate yourself to defend a Mudblood."

Ominis knew all these questions were inevitable. In fact, it was almost surprising they hadn't come sooner. He had prepared himself, rehearsed the answers. The key was believing in them for now, even if doing so made him sick. 

Yet the conversation led nowhere. The words lingered in the room, futile and falling short. It felt as if his father wasn't searching for answers at all, but rather for justification, an excuse to weaponise his disappointment and fear. 

He realised he was trapped all along. His words were irrelevant, the outcome for him was already determined.

This was it.

He shouldn't have stayed. 

He shouldn't have come here.

He shouldn't have spoken to Foster.

He shouldn't have grown close with Alyn.

He shouldn't have become friends with Sebastian.

He shouldn't have been such an idiot.

"Enough," Father cut him off yet again. "Stand up. And step away from that fine armchair."

Ominis stepped back from the door, where he had been listening for what felt like an eternity. Somewhere deep in the house, a clock chimed four in the morning. His legs felt unsteady as he made his way back to the table, sinking heavily into the chair.

With hands that trembled on and off he attempted to roll up the parchment he had spent the night scribbling on. Plans, fragmented thoughts, fleeting ideas, interrupted in places by blots of ink where his quill had paused for too long. He couldn't sleep, so he'd worked instead, attempting to improve in the nonverbal use of his quill. Yet tonight, he'd failed at even that.

Frustrated, he crumpled the parchment in his hand with all the strength he could muster. His fingers, sluggish and barely responsive, clenched tighter until pain and exhaustion forced them to release. The crushed ball of parchment slipped from his grip and fell to the floor with a faint crackle.

Three days felt like an eternity. Like time had stopped in this house.

Eighteen months and seventeen days seemed surreal.

He buried his face in his palms, one of which throbbed now. The Wiggenweld potion he'd been given before dinner had helped him for a few hours, but its effect had already faded completely. Not that anyone had truly wanted him at the dinner. Not that he'd wanted to be there, either.

One day, he would leave this place, this life, for good. The train to Hogsmeade wouldn't depart for another eight hours—eight horribly endless hours. Perhaps he could board some other train, vanish into a place where no one knew him?

No. He couldn't. For the same reasons that haunted him for years already. He needed more: the education to stand on his own, the money to start over, the assurance that he wouldn't be found by them. Best would be to not let them celebrate that he had simply disappeared. 

He breathed out a silent, "Enough," trying to shift his thoughts.

"Just be back soon."

"You can make it through."

No. Ominis ran his fingers through his hair and gripped his head. He'd spent… hours?.. persuading his father that he and Alyn were nothing more than classmates. That their appearance together in Hogsmeade had been purely coincidental, meaningless. That she was meaningless. 

The idea of Foster's so-called deal was nothing but the Auror's delusion, he'd insisted. That only family mattered.

He'd sworn there was no connection to Sebastian, that Sallow knew nothing, could never be a threat. That he was nothing. That only family mattered.

The truth pressed on him. In fact, he couldn't remember everything that happened, everything he'd said, and that terrified him. What if he had slipped? What if he'd already failed? Would anything he'd said even matter? And if it did, what kind of difference would it make?

His father hadn't seemed suspicious during dinner. On the contrary, he was the first to even mention that Noctua's house now legally belonged to Ominis. He'd suggested showing it to Mr and Mrs Flint one day—a place for their daughter to live with his son. 

It was only a matter of time before his father began finding ways to track his actions at school. He would likely increase his pressure on the Flints as well. Ominis had never heard of using an Unbreakable Vow for such arrangements,  but the term "contract" Father used was just as unsettling. 

They believed they owned him. They acted like it. 

And were they wrong? 

The Flints hadn't been enthusiastic tonight, but it was only a matter of time before they reached an agreement—or before his father found someone else.

Fuck.

Time. In the end, it all came back to time, and it was merciless. The ice beneath him had stopped cracking, but only because it was gone. He was under it now, his breath stolen by the cold, the weight of despair pressing him down. Someone drowning couldn't hope to hold anyone else up.

In the end, maybe it was better to sink alone than to drag anyone else with him.

Thank you for reading! Sending you hugs 🫂 it'll be okay, and it will be a bit better at once after he gets out of this place - which is soon, on the next train to Hogsmeade.

[chaotic-clouds]

Another theme I really love in little nightmares 2 is how all the beings affected by the Signal Tower can be interpreted as representations of the different kinds of abuse children face throughout their life.

(Now bc of the recent LN podcast that came out giving some insight on how the LN universe works, we know kids that end up there are usually there because they’ve experienced severe trauma and/or abuse throughout their lives. What we also know now is that adults can also end up there, but instead these adults are usually the abusers, which is what makes this world 10x more nightmarish for the kids that inhabit it.)

But I’m not gonna get too into the logistics of the podcast for now though because I’ve not watched it entirely, and I still think this interpretation can be applied with or without the podcast context so I’ll just give my personal thoughts on the main antagonists in general for now!

Starting off with The Bullies I think their symbolism is most obvious, abuse from peers. In typical bully fashion the way they attack you is usually in hoards, killing you with their bare hands instead of a special ability. They even set out traps or what could be seen as a deadly prank, to kill anyone that is unfortunate to set it off. And while yes you are their main target because you are an outsider and “not one of them”, they also seem to regularly harass each other as well, emphasizing the cruel and vindictive nature they internalize (like when mono and six come across a solitary room with a chair in it, implying that the bullies regularly tied some people up and left them there for days, weeks even). But my favorite part is despite how cruel and aggressive they act, the form that the signal tower has turned them into is a porcelain doll, one that while keeping the appearance of a child is instead hollow and just as easy to kill (if not more than a regular kid). The bullies are the closest thing to the regular survivors of LN, but because of their cruel actions in defense of deeply buried insecurities, the Signal Tower has turned the bullies into fragile hollow husks of hate that will forever showcase the damage done to them outwardly, without any chance of concealing the cracks and pieces missing.

When it comes to The Teacher I’m not as sure, but I think she is meant to represent the abuse that individuals in power (specifically the education system) can commit to those underneath their rank. She’s extremely strict and cruel in her punishments, and has stricken fear into even the rowdiest of bullies, her class being dead silent as she teaches nonsense for however long she wishes. Adding onto this, she seems to be the sole person in power to the entire school, setting the schedule however she pleases. With her extensive neck I think this also can be seen as another act of dominance on her part, being able to literally be above whoever crosses her.

The Doctor is less direct, but I think he represents how those put in more knowledgeable and trusted positions can easily take advantage of those they’re supposed to protect. In this case towards his patients that he has taken advantage of and turned into his own experiments, but what confuses me is to why he’s on the ceiling? I mean it could just be as a way to be disturbing but I think it could be conveying how the doctor’s moral views have been so warped that he is literally viewing the world upside down.

The Hunter to me is also a little more confusing. I’m not sure what abuse he would embody but again he is farther from the pale city, so perhaps he’s not as in line with the Signal Towers influence/theme.

The Viewers in my opinion, represent neglect and addiction. While technically passive until provoked, they are designed to make you feel as though you’re walking on eggshells around them whenever you have to walk through the room they’re in. But because of them not caring about you whatsoever, you can pretty much just do whatever you want around them and they won’t even blink an eye until is directly disrupting the connection between them and the signal tower, in which case they get extremely violent, making a sound akin to screaming as they get up in your face to suck the life out of you. Their appearance also has a lot to say about their condition; The way their faces have been distorted and how uniform they all look, the Signal Tower has pretty much sucked the life out of them and made them forget who they ever were, possibly also representing how the relationship between them and whatever children they had would be so distant, that the kid wouldn’t see them as any different than a stranger they walked past on the street.

Aaaand because this post is now way too long maybe I’ll rant about how this applies to Mono and Six’s transformation via the Signal Tower another day. (Also this is just a silly interpretation!! So take this with a grain of salt, I’m sure someone else has explained this like 10x more literate than I could but I just love talking about this game 💔)

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Alec and Raina part 9

Sad boi pasta hours has finally come!! Tws for food, intimate/possessive whumper, abuse, and forced/faked relationship.

Masterlist here.

Alec was awoken by the sharp prick of a needle in his neck. Raina stood over him where he laid on the couch, gently combing her fingers through his hair. “Good afternoon, love,” she murmured. “That was the antidote to what I gave you earlier, you should be alright in a few minutes.”

He nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. The burns on his body and face still throbbed, he didn’t want to face Raina so soon after having been hurt. Yet he had no choice.

“Look at me, darling,” she commanded. Alec’s eyes snapped open automatically as he nervously met her gaze. Raina nodded her approval at his instant compliance. It was a pleasant surprise how quickly Alec had learned to obey her. “Do you feel up to making dinner today? I’ll take off your collar,” she goaded sweetly.

Alec shrugged. He was exhausted, his body battered and his wounds aching, but he nodded. The collar felt too tight for him to breathe, and cooking would at least be something familiar. Something Raina couldn’t ruin for him.

Raina reached behind him to unbuckle his collar, pressing a kiss to the top of his head while she was at it. “Thank you, love,” she said, as if Alec was a friend choosing to do her a favor rather than someone she had kidnapped and tortured. “I put most of the groceries away but left out everything you specifically asked for, so don’t worry about not being able to find any of that. I’ll be back with your crutches in a bit.”

Alec let out a soft sigh of relief hearing that he’d get his crutches back, curling up on the couch and burying his face in his hands once Raina was gone. He needed to rest, he needed a break. But he was just glad to be able to breathe without the constriction of leather around his throat.

Raina practically shoved his crutches at him when she returned, carelessly dumping the aids into his arms. “There are gloves in the bottom left cabinet, wear them in case anything reopens on your hands,” she instructed. She’d already removed anything from the kitchen that could be used as a weapon, so this would be a nice break for Raina to get some work done and for Alec to be alone and occupied.

Not to mention that Raina had been recently messaged by Dorian. How he’d managed to find her, she had no idea, but she was certain she could either negate whatever threat he posed or lure him into a trap of sorts. His love and loyalty for Alec was adorably blind and easily exploitable, she’d just have to keep up a decent act. He was clearly worried about Alec, she would just have to assure him that there was nothing to be concerned about. And if it didn’t work, she’d get a new plaything to hurt.

Alec limped off to the kitchen when it was evident that Raina had no other demands, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves before starting with the pasta. He opened and closed cabinets for what felt like hours before he found a strainer and measuring cups, spent just as long searching for the flour, and then sifted 2 cups of it with the same amount of semolina flour. The flour went straight onto the counter, he used his hands to form a well in the center of the pile. For a moment, he was back in Dorian’s apartment, making pasta for his boyfriend to surprise him after he got home from work.

But Raina’s voice cut through the silence, forcing Alec back to reality. “I’m gonna be heading outside for a moment, do you need anything?” she asked. She sounded almost loving, and Alec wanted to rip her throat out. This was the same person who’d branded him, the same person who’d stabbed him with a nail. How can she even act like any of this is okay?

But in spite of himself, he nodded. “Uh, can you get the eggs and some olive oil and a rolling pin?” He asked sheepishly. His broken leg sent sharp stabs of pain up his body every time he took a step, he didn’t want to walk any more than he had to.

Raina nodded, plucking the carton from the fridge and setting it in front of Alec before pulling a rolling pin out of a nearby drawer. “Of course, love.” She disappeared into the shockingly huge pantry for a moment and then set a bottle of olive oil next to the eggs, giving him a gentle smile. She’d make him see that she could be kind when he obeyed, one way or another. “I’ll be right back, okay? The house will be locked from the outside and inside so don’t think about trying to get out.”

“Right.” It was as if his captor couldn’t go a minute without reminding him he was trapped.

Alec waited until Raina was gone to continue, determined not to let her ruin this for him. He cracked a half dozen eggs into the flour well and added a splash of oil on top before whisking them together with a fork and slowly dragging bits of flour into the mixture. The process was surprisingly soothing, it allowed him to clear his mind and focus on the one thing he knew he was good at, and he began kneading the dough once he’d mixed in as much flour as possible. The movements stretched the burns on his hands, sending shocks of pain up his arms, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t want the collar back on, and he needed some kind of constant in his life. If he proved he could do a good job, Raina might let him cook more often. It would be his solace in the midst of the pain, his anchor. He needed the chance to prove he deserved it.

He worked the dough for a slow, painful ten minutes, glancing constantly at the clock on Raina’s oven. His healing stab wound hadn’t split open yet, although it felt like it had. Either way, he was glad for the gloves, just in case something did happen. He didn’t want to start over just because he was too damaged to even cook correctly.

He rolled the dough until it was flat and then cut it into strips which he shaped into logs. Usually, he’d use a knife to cut pieces off the little logs, but he pinched them off instead— he knew Raina wouldn’t trust him with a knife. He pressed his thumb into each piece to make domed shapes, setting them in a little pile when they were completed.

It felt like hours before the ball of dough had completely been converted into pieces of orecchiette. He leaned heavily on his crutches, wanting nothing more than to collapse to the floor and take a break. Instead, he limped to the stove and started boiling a pot of water. He was far from done.

Just as he’d added the pasta to the boiling water and started a timer, Raina returned. “I hope you’re making enough for three, love,” she said casually. “Dorian is joining us tonight.”

Alec froze, glancing up at her like a deer in headlights. “J-just for dinner, uh, right?” He couldn’t hide the terrified tremble in his voice. He didn’t want Dorian to see him this weakened, this helpless. He didn’t want Dorian to get hurt too.

Raina shrugged. “It depends on how much I like him. He’s already so adorably worried for you, he’d get suspicious if I didn’t have him over, so it also depends on how well you disprove his concerns. If you keep up a good act and I decide he’s not worthwhile enough to take, he’ll go home and nothing will come out of it. Except the fact that he’ll be assured you’re alright and hopefully will stop bothering us. Of course, I might just decide to keep him, and if you tell him anything’s up then I definitely will. It’s all up to you, darling. Be on your best behavior tonight.”

Alec nodded, barely able to process the load of information. He swallowed the terrified cry rising in his throat, clenching his hands into fists so she couldn’t see how he trembled. “I understand.”

~~~~

Nearly an hour later, the meal was finally done. The pasta was partitioned onto three plates and topped with a creamy lemon sauce, sautéed chickpeas, and bits of basil. Alec felt as if he might topple over any moment. Instead, he just limped off to look for Raina. Her house was so monstrously big that he might take weeks to find the dining room on his own.

“Raina? He checked the parlor first, a cozy room with too many plush chairs and fancy little tables. It was hardly ever used, but he heard voices coming from it, maybe she was still on the phone…

“I uh—” he stopped dead when he saw Dorian sitting across from her, his eyes widening. “I—” Raina gave him a pointed glance. Don’t fuck this up, her gaze clearly read.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, giving a little two-fingered wave from the handle of his left crutch. “Dinner is ready, but I didn’t know where we were gonna eat so I left everything in the kitchen. I’m, uh, I’m going to change. I’m covered in flour and all that…”

He was gone before he could hear Dorian’s response, his eyes filling with tears as he stumbled up the stairs, his leg shooting with agony. He collapsed onto his bed when he made it to his room, giving himself a moment to unleash his despair. He cried into the mountain of pillows on his bed, until his head ached and he gasped for breath between sobs.

He heard footsteps approaching and fumbled for his crutches, forcing himself upright and flinging open the wardrobe door. His face was streaked with tears, but at least he wasn’t still crying.

“Alec, love? Everything alright?” Raina called into his room. Her words were clearly an act for Dorian, she would never be this kind to him otherwise.

Alec nodded weakly. “Yeah, I just, uh, need help deciding what to wear,” he mumbled.

Raina strode into the room, taking in his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “He’s waiting on us downstairs, darling, you’d better compose yourself,” she said almost tauntingly as she set the new velvet pants and a lacy white shirt on the bed. “Wash your face before you come back down, but hurry,” she ordered before she disappeared from the room.

The shirt was beautiful, with a delicate bodice and sheer lacy sleeves that clung to his arms and draped over his hands to cover the scars, and Alec had to admit that he liked the pants. If nothing else was to go rightly this night, he would at least be dressed nicely to watch it all go down.

He stumbled to the en suite bathroom, ran his fingers through his hair, and splashed water on his face before limping out of the room and heading down the stairs. “Sorry about that!” he called out, trying to sound like a graceful boyfriend rather than a terrified captive. He found Raina and Dorian in the dining room, the table already set with food and utensils.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” he choked out with a forced grin as he slid into the seat across from Dorian. “I’m trying to rearrange my style and all that, Raina’s been helping me,” he explained. “How’s everything going for you? Sorry I never reached out, I, uh, I shattered my phone and haven’t gotten a new one yet.”

Dorian returned the shaky smile, eating a forkful of pasta with an approving nod. “Damn, darl— Alec, that’s really good,” he complimented. “As always, of course. And I’m sorry about your phone, that sucks.”

The terrified man from the grocery store was gone, replaced by someone beautiful— and most definitely not Alec. His words still rang clear in Dorian’s mind. Love, I’m in an abusive relationship. Raina seemed perfect, with her effortless beauty and elegance. But Alec had sounded so desperate, so broken… he couldn’t help but wonder if Raina had actually destroyed his phone. If Raina dictated how he dressed, how he acted. Alec had never been comfortable in the kinds of clothing Dorian had seen him wearing, especially not in public. And a collar? He’d looked lovely, but he knew Alec wasn’t into them, so Dorian had never forced him to wear one. If Raina didn’t even care about consent for those kinds of things, what other horrors had she done to him?

He didn’t even want to know, but he slid his phone from his pocket and discreetly typed 911 into the keypad under the table. He’d just have to hit enter if things got heated too fast.

~~~~

Hours later, Alec felt like he was barely holding on by a thread. The conversation between the three was awkward at best, and it felt like his broken bone had been replaced with pieces of molten lead. He hadn’t meant a word he’d said the entire night, and Raina had stayed too close to him for comfort. He was forced to cuddle up close to her, as if they were lovers. Her arm was constantly around his shoulders, she stroked his hair whenever he began to tense up— although the unwanted touches only served to make him more nervous.

Nonetheless, he made it through the evening. Dorian thankfully didn’t ask about his crutches, so Alec didn’t have to make a story about how his leg had been broken. He made himself quiet and polite, allowed Raina to fill the silence, and just hoped his performance was good enough for Dorian to go free.

In a way, some twisted part of him hoped the act might not be good enough. He wanted to have a real conversation without lies or fear so badly that it ached. He wanted to be alone with his lover, he wanted company that wasn’t his torturer— and he knew that would only happen if Dorian was forced to stay. He wouldn’t wish this kind of pain on anyone, let alone his lover, but it still felt like a slap in the face to watch him go.

Alec clenched his fists tight, nails digging into his palms, as Raina opened the door for Dorian to leave. He wanted to follow him out, to make a run for it that would surely end up with him on the floor in agony. He just wanted to try. But if that was the one mistake that got Dorian captured, he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he threw his arms around his lover, stifling a sob, and held him in a tight embrace.

Dorian returned the hug, surprised at its fierceness. Alec had been cuddling up with Raina the whole night, as if he’d never even loved Dorian, yet the embrace had such desperation. He reached into his pocket and felt for his phone, once again wondering if he should call for help. But Alec would surely be forced to keep up the lie if Dorian did try to help them. He didn’t know what kind of blackmail Raina was holding over him, nor did he want to know. But the least he could do was stay on polite terms with Raina and be allowed to visit enough that he’d know Alec was alright.

Raina took Alec by the shoulder and pulled him away from his boyfriend, her grip vicelike and relentless. “It was nice having you over,” she said to Dorian, giving a sweet smile before shutting the door almost abruptly. She had a taser concealed in her jacket, in case Alec managed to get out of the house, but using it would definitely ruin the facade. While exploiting the bond between the two was a tantalizing notion, another captive would be such a hassle, and she wanted Alec all to herself.

As soon as Raina had bolted the door, Alec dissolved into tears.

He let Raina take his aching, throbbing body into her arms; despite wanting nothing more than to thrash in her grip until he was left alone. Instead, he buried his face into her neck and cried harder. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps as he gulped in air through his tears. Raina sat down and let him curl close to her, pleased at his clinginess. Even as she was the one hurting him, she was the one he would go to for solace. “Let it out, darling,” she murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his back. I want to hear every sound I can get out of you. His anguish was a symphony, a delicate balance of the fragility and despair and terror that Raina loved so much.

And since he was given no privacy and no choice, Alec could at least allow himself to be comforted. He wrapped his arms around Raina’s neck and let her hold him as he shattered into a million pieces.

Tagging: @warm-my-whumpee-heart @hopepetal @painsandconfusion

Bonus: My own sad boi pasta can be found here!!

[lavenderfluorite14]

Such Sweet Delirium

Reiji Sakamaki x Fem!Reader

Summary: Laito Intrudes on an experiment gone wrong. Reiji loses his cool.

Explicit, 18+ |TW: Dubious Consent/Non-Con, Drugged Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Slut Shaming, Blood Sucking, Ownership Kink, Female Reader, Breast Worship, Hickeys, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Possessive Reiji, Light Edging, Canon Typical Reiji Cruelty, I couldn’t just write porn I had to write a character study too lol, Slight Laito x Reader, Tagging non-con for the consent issues surrounding drugged sex, Reader is conscious and responsive but very high

Word Count: 2331

A/N: Please be mindful of the tags! This is the most explicit thing that I have ever written lmaoooo 🥂

Read it on AO3!

Reiji’s lab spun in a nauseating carousel of color. The last thing you remembered was drinking a beautiful, shimmering liquid that Reiji said he had brewed himself. It fizzed all the way down your throat, an insistent warmth quickly spreading throughout your body. Now sprawled across his sofa, you surrendered to dizzying oblivion. Somewhere above you, Reiji scribbled furiously in a black notebook, tutting irritably.

“Tell me what you are feeling. Be specific.” You swallowed thickly at the order, begging your tongue to move.

“The…...the room…..the room is-”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“S-spinning. The room….is spinning” you slurred.

“How fast?”

“Fast.”

“I said how fast?”

“I….I can’t….”

Reiji tsked angrily, snapping his notebook shut. Flinching, you tried to turn away from his sharp gaze but a cold hand pinned you flat against the couch. Your delayed reaction time was no match for his vampiric strength.

“I can feel your heart racing from here,” he said, curling over you, pinning your wrists above your head. “Had I known you were such weak prey I would have given you a smaller dose. It isn’t as fun when you can’t fight back.” You wriggled underneath him, jerking weakly against his cruel grip. Reiji laughed, amused at your feeble attempts to escape.

“Although, I don’t hate this delirious expression,” he murmured, lowering his face towards yours. You squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by his hungry stare. “I suppose this isn’t bad every once and a while.” His rich baritone rumbled in your ear, his proximity making you tremble.

“I didn’t think I’d interrupt this so soon,” interrupted a dark chuckle. Laito lounged against the doorframe of the lab, eyeing your entwined forms. “You must really like this one, Reiji,” he teased. Reiji’s iron grip tightened around your wrists and you whimpered pitifully. “It’s rude to enter someone’s room without knocking,” Reiji spat imperiously. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer!” Laito insisted, his eyes glinting with mirth. “But now I can see you were a bit distracted.” You lolled your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Laito’s smirk widened.

“Christ, what did you do to her?”

“Such language is atrocious. You shouldn’t speak that way.”

“You fucked up the dosage, didn’t you?” Reiji shot up quickly at the accusation, swiping his notebook from the couch as he crossed briskly back towards his desk. Laito’s smirk cracked into a grin.

“Do you need something, Laito?” Reiji asked coolly. As Reiji began tidying his work space, Laito sauntered over to the couch, his green gaze boring into you. Crouching down, he gently brushed his fingers across your cheek. You shivered under his cold touch. “I came for the aphrodisiac you promised me,” Laito said, trailing his fingers down your neck. He stopped to trace the hollow of your throat, caressing it with his thumb. “But if you don’t have it, I’m sure there are other ways we can pass the time inst-”

“Of course I have it,” Reiji scoffed. Plucking a vial of blue liquid from his stores, he crossed the room and offered it to Laito. “Now please take it and leave.” Reiji’s words hung in the air like frost. Laito rose languidly, like a cobra rearing back to strike, then swiped the vial from Reiji’s gloved hand.

“Maybe next time, Bitch-Chan,” Laito said, winking at you. “And Reiji,” Laito called, pivoting in the doorframe for one last jab. “I know it can be hard to control yourself, especially this close to a full moon, but try not to tear this one up like the last one, ok? You should save some for the rest of us.”

“Get out!” Reiji snarled, storming across the room. Laito darted off, disappearing as quickly as he had come. Reiji slammed the door behind him.

The ceiling swam before you in lethargic swirls of periwinkle. You had no idea what Laito meant, but you could feel Reiji fuming in the doorway. What was he talking about? Reiji never lost his cool. You couldn’t imagine him doing something like that. “You let him touch you,” Reiji seethed.

“Reiji, I...I didn’t….I didn't want-”

“Please be silent.Your behavior today has been dreadful.” Reiji prowled towards the couch, his long shadow casting a dark pall across your face. You closed your eyes, terrified to meet his furious eyes. “You couldn't do a thing?” He queried, towering above you. “You couldn’t cry out? Or swat him away?” His voice was ice.

“I…..I froze….”

“I suppose that’s to be expected from a woman like you,”

“I’m so-sorry,”

“How should I punish my little harlot?” Finally bending down towards you, Reiji cupped your face firmly with his gloved hand. “Your pupils are still so dilated. I doubt you’d feel my whip at all.” The thought made you shiver, and not completely out of fear. Reiji thumbed your lip idly as he thought.

“Suck….my blood?” He tsked at your suggestion.

“You ask for it so brazenly, sometimes I think you enjoy it. Hands up.” You heaved your arms up over your head as Reiji smoothly rolled your top up your body, tossing it aside once it was completely off.

“I suppose it’s my fault. I’ve been too lax with you,” he mused, settling firmly on top of you. You were particularly aware of his pelvis, pressing insistently against the cradle of your thighs. He cupped your face, drawing you close. “I need to teach you exactly who you belong to,” he said, his gaze drifting down hungrily to the column of your neck. “I’ll remind you so thoroughly of your place that even a dumb whore like you will be able to remember who owns her,” he promised, sinking his teeth viciously into your throat.

Reiji’s first bite was hard and precise, the sharp pain briefly thrusting you into lucid panic. But soon you were left with the warm afterglow of pleasure in the wake of its pain. It never stopped hurting, not entirely, but his bites always left you with a fluttering warmth. Reiji’s mouth was on you. You couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Reiji began a fast, desperate rhythm that pulled blood from you quickly, sending you reeling. You whimpered as your world whirled impossibly faster. When darkness began to flicker at the edges of your vision Reiji pulled away, burying his face into your neck. “You bring out the worst in me,” he sighed. Mouthing along your throat, he continued downward towards your collarbone. You braced yourself for another bite, but recoiled sharply when Reiji placed a delicate kiss upon your chest.

“Look at me, jealous of that pervert.” He kissed your chest again, skimming his fingers across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “Arch your back.” Curving your spine upwards, your body brushed against Reiji’s lean frame. You trembled as his hands ghosted along your back, making their way towards the clasp of your bra. Reiji unhooked it with quick ease then tossed the lacy fabric away, greedily cupping your naked breasts. A thin, breathy gasp escaped from you as Reiji dipped between them, kissing your soft curves. You tangled your hands in his hair, humming your approval. In response he tweaked your nipple harshly, sending a jolt of pain through your cloud of pleasure. You yelped at the enticing contrast.

“Let me remind you of your place. You are nothing more than food to me,” he said, pinching your nipple again with a renewed vengeance. You drunkenly brought your hands back to push him away, but he easily pinned them back above your head. “You are meat. Your blood is the only worthwhile thing about you.” Reiji sunk his teeth into the swell of your breast, drawing deep from you. Crying out, you tried to ignore the pleasure his bite ignited in you, trying to focus only on the pain.

“I can taste your arousal,” he groaned between mouthfuls. “Does your masochism know no bounds?” Reiji’s insults didn’t last as he dove back down again to litter your chest with angry bites. He’d kiss you, so tenderly it was almost painful, then pierce your sensitive skin with his sharp, pointed fangs. Once satisfied, he’d lick, suck and kiss the abused spot until an angry mark began to form. He left bruises everywhere in his wake, a garden of purple hickeys blossoming across your breasts.

The drug made it nearly impossible to meaningfully fight back but you didn’t really want to. Reiji’s words stung, but you so rarely had his attention like this. Was it because the full moon was close? You knew vampires had trouble controlling their urges when the moon was full. And Reiji so desperately wanted control: of his brothers, of you, of himself. Was this frenzied beast the real Reiji, or was his protesting, rigid persona the real him? Impossibly, you knew he had to be both. Both enraptured and repulsed by his own desires and completely unable to hide it. That was really why he was mad. Reiji’s wet tongue interrupted your musings as he lapped against your sore nipple, sending a shudder through your entire body. Unable to remove your wrists from his grasp, you retaliated by wrapping your legs around his hips, trapping him against you. Now it was Reiji’s turn to shudder, rutting himself against your core. He was hard.

“My, you really are out of it,” he murmured, grinding himself against you openly. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Explanation for what?” You panted, trying to match his thrusts. Reiji released your wrists, propping himself up on his left arm. Delicately biting the fabric across the tip of his pointer finger, he slid his glove from his hand. Ripping it away, Reiji’s bare hand skimmed down your body and over your curves. Flipping up your skirt, his fingers slid between your thighs.

“For this,” he says, tracing your wetness through your panties. Your eyes fluttered shut. “Reiji,” you breathed, arching towards his fingers.

“Say my name,” Reiji ordered softly, dipping underneath the fabric and rewarding you with long, firm strokes. You called his name again and he moved up towards your clit, circling it once before quickly pulling away. You whined at the loss.

Reiji begins a vicious rhythm, rubbing your clit with firm circles, then backing off when your pleasure mounts. He only returns to your clit when you beg him to, crying out for him. Fisting your hands in his shirt, you whine in frustration as a needy ache builds inside you. Reiji just smirks down at you, enjoying your torment. When tears start building in your eyes, he finally slides a slender finger into your heat. Beckoning upward along your inner wall, he firmly massages your g spot. Mindlessly, you grind down on his fingers, chasing your pleasure.

“Who makes you feel this good?” he asks, his ruby eyes alight with lust.

“You do,” you gasp.

“I asked you who,” he demanded, cruelly massaging your inner wall. You jerk at the pressure, almost cresting over the plateau.

“Reiji! Reiji Sakamaki!” you cry, desperate for release.

“Good girl,” he smirks, thumbing your clit. You gasp in delight, the rough, consistent circles of his fingers finally hurtling you towards your peak. “You don’t deserve this,” he growls in your ear, his deep velvety voice bewitching you. “But when I see you like this, I can’t stop myself. You’re mine.” Your orgasm hits you hard, squeezing Reiji’s fingers in hot contractions. Pleasure washes over you in a wave, your entire being gently pulsing. Reiji smugly guides you through your orgasm, only stopping his ministrations once your twitching has ceased. You sigh, melting back into the cushions of the couch. Above you, a belt buckle clinks.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Reiji says, gripping your thighs and yanking you forcefully back towards him. As he settles above you, he presses the tip of his member against your eager entrance. Pushing forward, Reiji sinks into you with ease. “My little harlot is so wet for me,” he teases, before setting a ruthless pace.

Reiji fucks you selfishly, chasing his own pleasure now that he’s satisfied yours. You lay back, still enjoying the lingering effects of his drug. His thrusts pull soft, pleasured moans from you as he plunges desperately into you. Closing your eyes, you revel in the sensations, happy to let him use you. Occasionally he’ll sheathe himself all the way inside of you and grind desperately against your cervix, trying to get as deep as he can.

“I can’t believe you like this. That you like me,” he pants softly, definitely to himself. Reiji lets you pull him down so that he is completely flush against your body. “I do. I like you, Reiji.” A groan rips from him and he stills, spilling himself inside of you.

You stay that way for a moment, holding each other tenderly in the afterglow of your love-making. You wish you could stay like this, enjoying the feeling of his body as it presses you into the cushions, gently stroking his back as both of your breathing returns to normal. But Reiji recovers faster than you do. “I’ll clean you up,” he offers, his tone clipped.

Reiji cleans you thoroughly with a warm wet towel, which feels strange but is not unenjoyable in your impaired state. It’s deeply intimate in a way that is definitely uncomfortable, but you think it’s his way of taking care of you. You close your eyes, pliant. His large hands drift over your body, tugging your top back over you and righting your skirt. Once he is finished you curl on your side, completely spent and ready to sleep. As you begin to drift off, you feel something warm and soft envelop you. A blanket? Maybe. Where did he get a blanket?

Reiji watches as you snuggle into the blanket he has recently taken to keeping in his desk, a genuine smile flickering across his stern features.

[mxmollusca]

How not to queerbait in zero easy steps: SPN, OFMD, and my angry gay ass

If you are at all acquainted with the SPN fandom, you're probably aware of the absolute dumptruck full of clown shoes that destiel shippers, myself included, have found themselves buried in since the show ended. SPN has played an important role in my life for many reasons, and I (like the countless other queers that kept the show relevant for as long as it was) just wanted to see our Gay Angel Mascot find a happy ending, one that is sadly frequently elusive for members of the queer community.

What we got was so much worse than I could have imagined. There is no string theory universe in which the writers and showrunners didn't know the damage they were causing, specifically because the discourse surrounding it was so intense. The queerbaiting was rampant, for YEARS, and culminated in the gay lead being fridged, sent to turbohell for his admission of queerness, and then just not mentioned again for the rest of the show. It's not just queerbaiting, it's erasure. I literally could not finish the show because of it.

All of this is to say: Representation doesn't have to be hard! On the daily I am awed by the contrast between the willful and blatant harm enacted on the queer community by SPN with the position and tact taken by David Jenkins, showrunner for Our Flag Means Death. Jenkins is not even a queer man, though the writer's room for the show is well and diversely staffed. That being said, Jenkins' responses to questions about queerbaiting just floor me in their sincere naivete.

David. Fucking. Jenkins. Made this whole show with admittedly little to no understanding of queerbaiting and how deeply damaging it is to the queer community. He rolled up in camper trailer filled with weird kiwis and whatever the fuck a Con O'Neill is and cooked up pure gay crack. It's both a miracle and gift simultaneously.

Here's where I'm chaffing: I KNEW there were canon gay leads in OFMD before watching the show and STILL I waited for the other shoe to drop in the form or some sort of queer-related trauma, or for the narrative to devolve into queerness-as-conflict, or for a good ol' fashioned bury-your-gays...

SPN, YOU DID THAT TO ME. I literally couldn't enjoy this beautiful gift at face value because of the actual fucking trauma you caused. I was trapped in an actual, real-life abusive marriage for many years where I was gaslit every single day, and at the risk of sounding diminishing I must confess that watching OFMD caused in me a severe emotional reaction that I struggle to quantify. I suppose this essay is an attempt at making sense of it -- SPN made me feel unsafe, but I kept coming back to it again and again. OFMD is like the first normal relationship after breaking up with the toxic ex, dating someone who validates you, reflects back to you the good you put into the world, tells you that you deserve fine things and wear them well.

All David Jenkins did was treat us like humans. While I shouldn't have to be grateful for that, I am all the same.

Now let us pray that HBO gives us at least two more seasons of rainbow glitter pirate meth post-haste because I can only reblog the same gifset over and over before I start to get a little twitchy. While it won't undo the 12 year hate-crime of destiel, it will certainly go a long way toward making us all feel a lot safer and well-loved.

[storiesforallfandoms]

better than the movie ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1757

request?: yes!

@m-is-for-monkeys “hey! could u write a super bdsm smut about colson?? Thanks♡”

description: colson wants to try something in the bedroom, but has to assure his girlfriend it won’t be anything like a popular movie series

pairing: machne gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

(i’m not good with writing bdsm so it’s not gonna be super bdsm-y)

If there was one thing you could say about Colson in the bedroom, it was that he liked to experiment.

At first, you had been intimidated by Colson - sexually that is. He was a big, hot shot rapper and actor. He had groupies throwing themselves at him at every opportunity. You had only ever been with one person intimately. You were sure Colson had done basically everything in the book by the time the two of you had gotten together, which intimidated you a little.

The first time you were intimate together, Colson revealed that he had never done anything more than just some vanilla sex. He had fucked in nearly every position, but nothing more than the usual.

Due to this, you decided to make a list of things you wanted to try. Whenever you were both in the mood, you’d cross something new off the list.

You had gone through the list pretty fast, and now you were at the one Colson was most excited for: BDSM.

You had agreed to put it on the list as a joke, not thinking Colson would really want to do it. As the list neared that particular item, you were sure Colson would also scratch it off and say he wasn’t interested in doing it. So, when Colson started coming home with different sets of bondage toys, you were shocked, and a little nervous.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t actually want to do it?” he asked the night that you had both finally reached BDSM on the list. “I wouldn’t have added it if I knew you didn’t actually like the idea of it.”

He wasn’t mad, more just concerned. You were grateful that he wasn’t going to push you to do it.

“I thought it was a joke,” you said with a shrug. “I didn’t know you were actually into it. I figured...”

You trailed off. Colson’s head tilted, like a confused dog. “You figured...?”

You sighed. “I figured you wouldn’t be into it because you despise the Fifty Shades series so much. I mean, when we watched the first movie together you were so disgusted. You said that they made BDSM look wrong and abusive. I kind of thought...the movies had turned you off of it. I know they did for me.”

Realization crossed Colson’s face then, as if everything suddenly made sense. “You have a point, those movies did disgust me. I’ll never understand why we decided to watch all three.” You giggled at his joke. “But they made me mad because they made something I wanted to do look like it was just a tactic to keep someone in a toxic relationship. I didn’t want to try and bring it up after we watched those movies because I was afraid you would connect BDSM with Fifty Shades, and that was the last thing I wanted.”

You felt guilty then. Even though you hadn’t know that was Colson’s mindset at the time, you had fallen into exactly what he was worried about, which had led to this whole misunderstanding.

He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on yours. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I’m all for skipping it and going to the next thing on the list. I’m not going to push you to do something you don’t want to do.”

You thought for a moment. BDSM was not something you had ever been interested in, and of course, you now associated it with the god awful Twilight fanfic movies, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t even the slightest bit interested once. Even while watching the first Fifty Shades movie, you couldn’t help but cross your legs a little tighter the first time Christian had tied up Ana, or when he whipped her (although you had felt guilty for that one by the end of the movie).

And you knew Colson wasn’t Christian Grey. He wouldn’t make you do something you didn’t want to do, and he’d never hurt you. He’d be too upset with himself if he did. You knew he’d be gentle enough with you, and if you wanted him to stop he would stop.

“Okay,” you said, before realizing that you hadn’t exactly answered his question. “I mean...yeah, I’d like to try it.”

“Are you sure? One last chance to back out,” Colson said, although you could see a little glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

You smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I’m sure, babe. I trust you.”

He smiled and kissed you deeply. You giggled as he literally swept you off your feet and began carrying you to the bed.

“Decide on a safe word now so I know when you use it,” he told you as he laid you down on the bed. He turned to start collecting the things he had bought specifically for this moment.

You blurted the first thing that came to your mind for a safe word: “Pineapple.”

You felt your face burn with slight embarrassment as Colson turned to look at you, a small smile on his face. “Pineapple works for me.”

He held up a blindfold, silently asking you one more time if you were okay with what was about to happen. You nodded and sat up, pulling your hair back so it wouldn’t get tangled in the blindfold. Your vision went black as Colson wrapped the soft fabric around your eyes. He tied it tight around your head, but not too tight that it would hurt you.

With your vision gone, you suddenly felt more nervous. You felt completely powerless and, although you were now more nervous than before, you were also turned on by this feeling. It felt like Colson had complete control, and that made you tingle in a lower region.

His hands softly guided you back onto the bed before taking one of your hands in his. You felt a soft material wrap around your wrist, followed by the sound of a click; the fuzzy handcuffs Colson had bought. At first, you had laughed when you saw them. They were pink and extremely fuzzy, but Colson soon explained his reasoning behind it - regular metal handcuffs were surely going to hurt you, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He trapped another of your wrists in another set of handcuffs, leaving you completely helpless. You felt his soft lips kiss your neck as his hands began unbuttoning his button up shirt that you were wearing. He kissed over your exposed chest, giving special attention to each of your breasts. You moaned as you felt his tongue lap over your nipple painfully slow.

He continued down your body, leaving soft kisses on your stomach before his fingers looped around your underwear. You bucked your hips up to allow him to slip them down your legs. You whimpered as you felt his lips kiss over your thighs, getting dangerously close to the place you really wanted him.

He placed one kiss on your already dripping core before pulling away, causing you to let out an involuntary whine.

Colson chuckled at your desperation. “Have patience, baby girl.”

You listened to him shuffle for a while. You were longing to feel him touch you again. He had gotten you all worked up, you were dreading if he decided to leave you there all teased with no relief.

You felt a familiar pressure push against your opening. You gasped as Colson pushed himself into you painfully slow, allowing you to feel every inch of him as he filled you up.

His lips were against your neck again as he began to thrust, immediately picking up speed. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close and pressing his body closer against yours. His hips grinded into yours as his hands travelled down your body and cupped your ass.

You realized that having the blindfold on made everything feel so much better. Having your vision stripped away heightened your other senses, especially your sense of pleasure as Colson’s hips met yours. Pulling at the restraints around your wrists, you wanted nothing more than to dig your nails into Colson’s back as you cried out in pleasure.

You were definitely grateful that he had bought the cushioned handcuffs now.

You felt the familiar pressure starting to grow in your stomach as Colson’s thrusts became faster. You could feel him twitching inside of you, signaling that he was getting close to his own climax.

“I-I’m so cl-close,” you managed to stutter out through the cloud of pleasure that was in your head.

“Hold it, baby,” Colson whispered in your ear. “I’m close, too.”

It was hard to hold yourself back when you were so powerless against Colson’s hard thrusts, but you tried your best. When you felt his thrusts becoming more sloppy, you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. Your back arched involuntarily as you finally let yourself go, Colson hitting his own climax just seconds after.

He had his head buried in your neck, his muffled moans sending vibrations through your whole body. The two of you were breathing heavily against one another. You went to move your hands to hold Colson, forgetting for a moment that they were still bound together.

“Oh yeah,” Colson said, as if just remembering the bindings himself.

He slipped out of you and undid the handcuffs. An ache that you hadn’t felt before pulsated on your wrists, but it didn’t feel like a bad pain. Just a pleasant reminder of what had just happened.

As he began to untie the blindfold, Colson asked, “So, how was that?”

“Really good,” you admitted. “But also a little disappointing.”

Colson’s face was confused as he pulled the blindfold from your eyes. “Disappointing?”

“I liked the bondage, but you didn’t do much of the domination or the whipping and stuff. I feel like I didn’t get the whole experience.”

A mischievous smile came across Colson’s face as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to lay next to him on the bed. “I promise next time I won’t hold anything back.”

You smiled and pointed to the list on the bedside table. Understanding your silent question, Colson rolled over to pick up the list and a pen and passed them to you. You added an arrow between BDSM and what was next on the list and added a new thing to try: “BDSM, but this time no mercy”.

Colson laughed upon reading it and held you tightly.

[akyrin]

SBI Fic Recs

You'll be Okay Kiddo by StayGoldFics Gen/Ongoing/43k - Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute Technoblade and Wilbur, On the run, Homeless Technoblade, Wilbur and Tommy

Summary: After Running away two years ago from yet another crappy home Wilbur, Techno and Tommy find themselves on the streets with no where to go. But hey, at least they have each other.

^ Phil finds a bunch of mute, on-the-run-from-the-foster-system-AND-the-police children in his shed and decides to adopt them. Wilbur, Techno and Tommy trust exactly none of it but Phil keeps proving himself. Basically Phil accepting and being unconditionally loving to three boys who have known nothing but pain for a long time. I love Phil's character in this. He never demands answers from any of them, just offers them a home unconditionally, even with the threat of police. And the boys want nothing more than to accept his kindness and safety but they're just too scared to do so.

One Man's Trash by SilverWing15 T/Ongoing/14k - Superheroes AU, SBI as Villains (they are soft for Tommy though), Hurt/Comfort, Homeless Tommy

Summary: The kid is glaring down at him and eating a partially moldy apple like he’s daring Wilbur to come fight him for it.

“What the fuck?” Wilbur says.

The kid takes a huge chunk out of the apple and definitely doesn't chew it enough before he swallows.

“You got a fucking problem, asshole?”

“I mean...kind of?” Wilbur says.

“There’s a child eating literal garbage in front of me so I feel like that’s a bit concerning.”

“Shouldn’t you be robbing a bank or getting your ass kicked by superheroes?”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

The kid snarls wordlessly and chucks an empty carton from some chinese place at him.

“Fuck off man. Forget this dump.”

“What, you know a better one to eat from?”

“I know one that doesn’t have a fucking weirdo supervillain in it!”

The kid slams the lid of the dumpster down.

Rude.

^My current obsession. Focuses on the relationship between Tommy and Wilbur and it's written extremely well. Wilbur is a supervillain who stumbles upon a homeless Tommy and decides to take him in as much as he can. Tommy has extreme trust issues but he's also starved for both touch and affection. Similarly to You'll Be Okay Kiddo, this one has so much yearning. Tommy wants nothing more than to reach out for the warmth Wilbur is offering, but he has been burned too many times. Wilbur wants nothing more than to bundle Tommy up in fluffy blankets, but he knows that one wrong move will send Tommy running (updates daily). Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous Gen/Completed/63k - Adoption AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending Summary: Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old. He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

^Tommy is due to be fostered by Phil and his adopted son Techno, but he refuses to leave the orphanage without his brother Wilbur. Phil decides to take them both. Tommy and Wilbur are terrified, Techno is insecure, they work it out. Love the relationship progression and how the building trust between Techno and the others is written. Responsible Forever by SilverWing15 Gen/Completed/17k - semi-adoption, Raccoon Innit, Hurt/Comfort, Feral Child TommyInnit

Summary: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?”

“I know how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?”

“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.”

“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.”

“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters.

^ Beautifully written fic about Phil and co trying to resocialise a quite literal feral raccoon child. Tommy is scared but painfully slowly learns to trust his new family. The way Tommy is so painfully hesitant but still yearns for the idea of family is both heartbreaking and incredible to read. I'd forgotten people are kind by BialyLis Gen/Ongoing/95k - Adoption AU, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse

Summary: "Wilbur did not look like a "difficult" child. Honestly, he looked like a child struggling to reach his next birthday on his own. In an oversized, faded sweater, with bruises on his forearms, and a still unhealed, split lip, he definitely didn't resemble the little terrorist Phil had carefully guarded all sharp objects from. More like a victim of a natural disaster. As if he had spent hours on the roof escaping a flood, only to be carried away by a tornado. But burying the knives was still a good idea. The kid seemed to trip over while making a sandwich."

^ Phil struggling through the uneasy process of becoming a dad to Wilbur and Techno, who have both been hurt too much for them to trust easily. Still updating hey, hi, hello by ph1sh T/Ongoing/13k - High School/College, Teacher Phil Watson, Students Wilbur, Techno and Tommy, Family Dynamic

Summary: Phil knows he isn't the first teacher to have hopes of changing kids' lives for the better, and he won't be the last. But Oakwood High seems to want to crush those hopes. He's a first year teacher still working on his college degree, he doesn't know how he planned on helping three students when he can barely help himself. or It's Phil's first year teaching and he gets stuck with detention duty. It just so happens that Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno can't stay out of detention. ^ Phil helping the "problem" children that lesser people have already gave up on. I love the way Phil (and the reader) slowly uncovers the backstory of Wilbur, Techno and Tommy. Still ongoing but a lovely read so far.

Change fate by being aggressively kind - or any other fic by sircantus

T/Ongoing/78k - AU - Magic, Phil Being the Best Dad Ever - The Fic, Protective Phil

Summary: “You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings. “He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at. “He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!” “Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.” Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children. Phil has a different plan. (In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world) I think this one speaks for itself. Sircantus is always top notch. If you haven't read this one yet, do it.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them. 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k) 

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K) 

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k) 

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K) 

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k) 

 “It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K) 

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K) 

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K) 

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K) 

 Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K) 

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K) 

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K) 

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k) 

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K) 

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k) 

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K) 

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k) 

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K) 

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K) 

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K) 

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

--

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k) 

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k) 

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K) 

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K) 

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

[number5theboy]

Please elaborate on how Five could've turned into the most insufferable character to watch

Thanks for asking me to elaborate on this text post:

@tessapercygranger​, @waywardd1​ and @margarita-umbrella​ also wanted to see a more detailed version of it, and I ended up writing an essay that’s longer than some of my actual academic essays. So buckle up.

WHY NUMBER FIVE SHOULD BE THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CHARACTER IN TV HISTORY, AND HOW HE MANAGES NOT TO BE

Number Five: The Concept That Could Go Horribly Wrong

Alright, let’s first look at Five in theory in an overarching way, without taking into account the execution of the show. The basic set-up of the character, of course, is being a 58-year-old consciousness in a teenager’s body, due to a miscalculation in time travel. Right off the bat, Five is bar none the most overpowered of the siblings; by the end of Season 2, no one has yet been able to defeat him in a fight. He is a master assassin – and not just any master assassin, but the best one there is – and a survival expert, able to do complex maths and physics without the aid of a calculator, shown to have knowledge of half a dozen languages, has very developed observational skills and, to top that all off, he can manipulate time and space to the point where he can literally erase events that happened and change the course of history. And Five knows how skilled he is; he is arrogant, self-assured and sarcastic, and his streak of goodness is buried deep inside. David Castañeda once described Five in an interview as 90% chocolate with a cherry in the middle, meaning that you have to get through a lot of darkness and bitterness before knowing there is a good core, and I think it’s an excellent metaphor. However, Five is also incredibly, fundamentally terrible at communicating with anyone, and, because he is the only one with time travel abilities, the character a lot of the actual plot - and the moving forward of it - centres around. Also he’s earnestly in love with a mannequin, who is pretty much a projection of his own consciousness that functions as a coping mechanism for all the trauma he has endured. All in all, this gives you a character who looks like a teenager, but with the smug superiority of a fifty-something, who a) is extremely skilled in many different things, b) has a superiority complex, is arrogant and vocal about it, and most of the superiority is expressed through cutting sarcasm, c) has one very hidden ounce of goodness that he is literally the worst at communicating to other human beings, d) is what moves the plot along but is also bad at talking to anyone else, meaning that the plot largely remains with him, and e) his love interest is essentially a projection of himself. Tell me that’s not a character who is destined to be just…obnoxious, annoying, egocentric, a necessary evil that one has to put up with to get through this show. There are so many elements of this characterisation that can and should easily make Five beyond insufferable, but the show manages to avoid it, and I’m putting this down to three aspects.

That Trick of Age and Appearance

Bluntly put, Five as a character would not work if he was anything else than an old man in a 13-year-old body. Imagine this character and all his skills and knowledge, but actually just…a teenager. Immediately insufferable. Same goes for him being around 30, like his siblings, all of which are stunted and traumatised by their father’s abuse. If Five, being comparatively unscathed by Reginald to the point where he explicitly does not want to be defined by his association with his father, were 30 like his siblings, it would just take the bite out of that plot point and also give him a lot less time in the apocalypse, reducing the impact it had on him as a person. And making Five his actual 58-year-old self would make him very similar to Reginald, at least on surface level, with the appearance and attitude. Five and Reginald are two fundamentally different people, but having one of the siblings being a senior citizen that’s dressed to the nines and bosses his siblings around in a relatively self-centred way does open up that parallel, and would take away from Five’s charm as a character. Because pairing the life experience of a 58-year-old with the appearance of a teenager gives you the best of both worlds. You get the other siblings (and a lot of the audience, from a glance in the tags of my gifsets) feeling protective and paternal about Five, but his age and experience also give the justifications for his many skills, his arrogance, in a way, and his ability to decimate a room full of people. It’s the very interesting and not new concept of someone dangerous with the appearance of something harmless, a child. This is also where Five’s singular outfit comes in. I know we like to clown on Five to get a new outfit, but I think what gets forgotten often is how effective this outfit is at making the viewer take him seriously. The preppy school uniform is the perfect encapsulation of the tension between old man in spirit and young teenager in appearance. The blazer, vest and especially the shirt and tie are quite formal, relatively grown up. They’re not something we, the audience, usually associate with a teenage boy wearing; it makes Five just a little bit more grown up. But there is also a reason characters in this show keep bringing up Five’s shorts and his socks, because those are not things that we associate with grown men wearing; they’re the unmistakably childish part of his school uniform. Take a moment and imagine Five wearing a hoodie or a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers; would that outfit work for him as well as the uniform does? Would he be able to command the same kind of respect or seriousness as a character? I don’t think so; the outfit is a lot more pivotal in making Five believable than a lot of people give it credit for.

Writing Nuance

The other big building block in not making Five incredibly insufferable is the writing. Objectively speaking, I think Five is the most well-written, and, more importantly, most coherently written character on the show (which does have to do with the fact that the show’s events are all sequential for him), and his arc and personality remain relatively intact over the course of the two seasons. More to the point, a giant part of what makes Five bearable as a character is that he is allowed to fail. He is written to have high highs and low lows, big victories through his skills and his intelligence, but also catastrophic failures and the freedom to be wrong. His superior intellect and skillset are not the be-all end-all of the plot or his character, just something that influences both. His inability for communication has not (yet) been used to fabricate a contrived misunderstanding that derails the plot and left all of us seething; instead, it’s a characteristic that makes him fail to reconnect with the people he loves. This is a bit simplified, as he does find common ground with Luther, for example, but in general, a lot of the rift between Five and his siblings is that they can’t relate to his traumas and he does not understand the depth of Reginald’s abuse, which is an interesting conflict worth exploring. Another thing that really works in Five’s favour is that he is definitely written to be mean and sarcastic, but it is never driven to the point of complete unlikability, and a lot of the time, the context makes it understandable why he reacts the way he does. Most of the sarcastic lines he gets are actually funny, that certainly helps, but in general, Five is a good example of a bearable character whose default personality is sharp and relatively cold, because it is balanced out with many moments of vulnerability. Delores is incredibly important for this in the first season, she is the main focus of Five’s humanising moments, and well-written as she totes the line between clearly being a coping mechanism for an extremely traumatised man and still coming across to the viewer as the human contact Five needs her to be. In the second season, the vulnerability is about his guilt for his siblings, it’s about Five connecting a little bit better to them. There’s also his relationship with the Commission and the Handler specifically – which honestly could be an essay on its own – that deserves a mention, because the Handler is why Five became the man he is, and this dynamic between creator and creation is explored in a very interesting way – their scenes are some of the most well-written in the entire show. And TUA never falls into the trap of making Five a hero, he is always morally ambiguous at best, and it just makes for an interesting, multi-faceted character, well-written character, and none of the characteristics that should make him unlikeable are allowed to take centre-stage for long enough to be defining on their own. I know a lot of people especially champion the scenes where Five goes apeshit, but without his more nuanced characterisation, if he was like that all the time, those scenes would not hit as hard.

Aidan Gallagher’s Performance is Underrated

But honestly, none of the above would matter that much if the Umbrella Academy didn’t luck out hard with the casting of Aidan Gallagher. I think what he achieves as an actor in this show is genuinely underappreciated. Like, the first season set out to cast six adults having to deal with various ramifications of childhood trauma, and a literal child that had to be able to act smart and wise beyond his years, seamlessly integrate into a family of adults while seeming like an adult, traumatised by the literal end of the world, AND had to be able to create the romantic chemistry of a thirty-year-long marriage with a lifeless department store doll. The only role I could think of to compare is Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire, where she plays a vampire child who, because she is undead, doesn’t age physically, but does mentally, so she’s 400 in a child’s body. And Kirsten Dunst had to do that for a two-hour movie. Five is a main character in a show that spans 20 episodes now. That’s insane, and it’s a risk. Five is a character that can’t be allowed to go wrong; if you don’t buy Five as a character, the entire first season loses believability. And they found someone who could do that not only convincingly, but also likeably. As I said, he is incredibly helped by the costuming department and the script, but Aidan Gallager’s Five has so much personality, he’s threatening and funny and charming and arrogant and heartbreaking. He has the range to be convincing in the quiet moments where Five’s humanity comes to show and in the moments where Five goes completely off the rails. Most child actors act with other children, but he is the only child in the main cast, and holds his own in scenes with adults not as a child, but as an adult on equal footing with the other adult characters. That’s not something to be taken for granted. But even apart from the fact that it’s a child actor who carries a lot of the plot and the drama of a series for adults, Aidan Gallagher’s portrayal of Five is also just so much fun. The comedic timing is on point, he has the dramatic chops for the serious scenes, the mannerisms and visual ticks add to the character rather than distract from him, and his line deliveries, paired with his physical acting, make Five arrogant and smug but never outright malicious and unlikeable. It’s just some terrific acting that really does justice to the character as he is written, but the writing would not be as strong if it wasn’t delivered and acted out the way Aidan Gallagher does. He is an incredible asset for this show.

Alright, onto concluding this rambling. If you made it this far, I commend you, and thank you for it. The point of all of this is that Five, as a character, could have been an unmitigated disaster of a TV character. He is overpowered, arrogant, uncommunicative and could so easily have been either unconvincing or completely unlikeable, but he turned out to be neither. It’s a combination of choices in the costume department, decisions in the writing room, and Aidan Gallagher’s acting skills that make the things that should make him obnoxious and annoying incredibly entertaining, and I hope you liked my long-winded exploration of these. Some nuance was lost along the way, but if I had not stopped myself, this would’ve become a full-blown thesis.

[walriding]

pending an official writeup, the cyberpunk verse basics I’ve got sketched out so far (basically just copying canon with some twists):

miles is still a reporter because of course. still independently employed because this guy cannot hold down a steady gig at a respectable media outlet to save his life.

murkoff is still a shitty corp because again. of course. the game is very vague about what they actually do which I think remains fitting in this universe — they’ve got their grimy hands in a lot of things. the main public facing business is as a biometric security developer and provider.

the tech part of project walrider (ie nanites) is a pretty well established thing in this verse already, but murkoff is more or less trying to attach an intelligence to nanites then implant it into a human body. why? well a bunch of self replicating / perpetuating nanites makes a person essentially indestructible, and an attached intelligence can override the human consciousness and make the subject controllable. great for sketchy ops and corrupt copro bullshit. they’re aiming to harness some rogue AIs for this purpose but uh. they missed and got Something Else instead :)

the project is run out of night city because it’s outside of any real government jurisdiction so long as they don’t piss off arasaka (and also plot convenience shhh)

miles is not from NC though — thinking of sticking with his northern california upbringing / move to the east coast but there’s some lore there I gotta digest. but he’s just here to investigate a whistleblower tip about what murkoff is up to in that specific facility

biggest canon divergence is that miles ends up trapped for longer than a night. he’s been a thorn in murkoff’s side for a while and they see this as a perfect way to get rid of him, because who really questions if one indie journalist falls off the face of the earth in NC? so he’s a test subject in their lil science project for a month or two before the riot pops off in much the same way as the game. events proceed in a similar fashion culminating with the sudden and violent success of project walrider — and miles’ escape with a new bestie for life

he sticks around the city because he’s still looking for answers and doesn’t know where else to get them, and his ultimate goal is still burning murkoff to the ground. I won’t say if he’s any more or less stable than he is in the mainverse — mans is resilient as fuck, I’ll always give him that — but his extended time under murkoff’s care manifests in slightly more questionable behavior at times, substance abuse problems, etc. he remains an empathetic man with a deeply buried bleeding heart, but he’s seen been through shit and come out of it hardened.

[psychological-mind-games]

We Don’t Talk About Mirabel

Chapter One:  Thunder in the Desert

Summary: Not every gift is a miracle, while the rest of the family enjoy their powers, 15-year old Bruno wishes he could give it back and act as though he never received it in the first place. With sudden, violent visions of something coming to steal the Candle, Bruno has to make a daring journey to find his tia Mirabel, as she seems to have a connection to his visions.  Or, an AU where Bruno and Mirabel switch roles. 

Tags:  Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Adventure, Child Neglect, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Obsessive Behavior, Trauma, Pain, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Villains, Magic, Anxiety Disorder, Family Drama, Visions, Child Abuse, Family Issues, Paranoia

Read Here: AO3, FFN, Wattpad 

Darkness was the only thing 15-year-old Bruno could see for miles with rough outlines of dunes out in the distance. His feet were buried in the warm sand, giving him a sense of peace and comfort, as he always escaped here when he needed to get away from himself. The wind was gently howling around him, specks of sand occasionally made their way into his eyes, but it wasn't anything that blinking a couple of times couldn't take care of. It felt as though Bruno was trapped in concrete, unable to force himself to even attempt to move his legs. Looking up, the clouds that once hung in the sky slowly began to part ways, making room for the moon to shine down and cast a faint light throughout the desert. This was always Bruno's favorite part; once the clouds were cast away, the dark blue sky was now exposed, revealing the bright twinkling stars with the Milky Way beginning to take shape.

A shiver ran down Bruno's spine, while he favored the desert at night for its natural beauty, he couldn't stand how cold it gets. Something about the sun not heating up the sand or something. Bruno didn't know the specifics, but he knew that was close enough to the answer. Now if he could only move…

He tried lifting his legs in an attempt to take a step forward, but once again, he wasn't able to. He was stuck. Great.

"Bruno…" A distant voice called, it felt familiar, yet it cast a sense of fear through him. "Bruno!" It called again, followed by a clap of thunder, causing him to flinch. It was rare for his Happy Place to have thunder. "Por el Amor de Dios…"

Bruno yelped, feeling a sharp pain across his face.

His eyes shot open, pulling him out of the desert he was accustomed to. Whenever he was overly stressed, he would throw his mind to what he called the Happy Place. It was always that desert, and he was always there alone where nobody would hurt him. For the most part…

"You weren't even trying were you, Bruno?"

Bruno was silent for a moment, trying to contain from shaking any further in the chair that he was restrained in. He wasn't exactly sure how long he was in his Happy Place but judging on how sore his arms were behind his back, it must have been a while. He was thankful that he had a blindfold covering his eyes, he hated how easily he gave away that he was frightened.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I-I'm…" Bruno swallowed hard, making any attempt to make sure his voice didn't come out as shaky as he felt. "I'm sorry, Abuela…" He tried shifting into a more comfortable position, but it didn't make too much of a difference. He wouldn't be able to be completely comfortable until he was back in his tower.

Alma let out a frustrated sigh. She couldn't understand what was difficult about Bruno using his Gift, he should be grateful that he received one in the first place, unlike you-know-who. All Alma asks is for Bruno to do one simple thing for her and the family, but of course, he must drag his heels in and make it as difficult as possible.

"Must I ask you again?" She questioned, while Bruno couldn't see her face, based on her tone she wasn't too happy with him. When she wasn't happy with him then she would make things only worse for him.

"No, Abuela…" he squeaked, shaking his head. The stinging pain that lingered on his cheek throbbed, reminding him of what happens when he disobeys her while they were in the Dark Room. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled again to make sure she knew that he wasn't purposely trying to be difficult.

More than anything he wanted his family to love him, and while the majority of them did, he felt like no matter what he did Abuela hated him. For years Abuela would treat him like any other member of the family, until his Gift Ceremony. When she realized his Gift was the power to see into the future and have visions, she made sure to take full advantage of it. At least once a day, sometimes more, Abuela would bring Bruno into the Dark Room, having him grant her visions to make sure nothing happens to the Candle or to their family. Whatever the root cause of this paranoia was, Bruno had no idea, and whenever he tried bringing it up to other family members, they would brush him off, telling him not to worry about it. Since he had a Gift there was no reason to bother with it, to do whatever Abuela told him to do so she would stay at ease. Bruno never saw Abuela force the others to use their Gifts to keep her at ease… Sometimes he wished he had a different gift, hell, most of the time he wished he didn't have a Gift at all, but whenever he brought that up his parents, Julieta and Agustin would remind him that he should be proud to have a Gift. Well, it was difficult to appreciate his Gift when it caused him nothing but trouble and pain.

"One week," Abuela said simply as she took a seat in the only other chair in the Dark Room. She folded her arms and began tapping her foot as if she was beginning to grow impatient with Bruno. "All I want is a vision for one week into the future, then you will be free to go." She said all of this so casually as if it were normal to torture her grandchild into using their Gift for her own gain. Sometimes Bruno wished that someone on the outside would look in just once to see what she puts not just him, but the rest of the family through as she dangles the fact if it weren't for her none of them would have Gifts, nor would they exist in the first place.

Bruno nodded, trying to keep the tears from falling. Even though the blindfold would hide them, he didn't want to cry anymore, there was no point, no matter how much he cried it didn't change the fact that Abuela would still force him to have visions for whatever she wanted.

With everything he had, Bruno forced his emotions aside so he could properly clear his mind. He's come to discover that if he was overthinking or overwhelmed with any negative emotion it would throw off his visions, only seeing negative outcomes of the future. If there was a trace of anything in Bruno's visions it would send Abuela into a frenzy, demanding more and more visions until the outcome would settle her nerves.

Bruno let out a deep breath, closing his eyes to help himself focus. He pictured his Happy Place. The warm sand gliding through the large unoccupied area with the wind howling as it zips around him, the sun beating down on him, but it was comfortably warm and not scorching hot. The best part? He was alone, there wasn't a chance for anybody to hurt him physically or emotionally. The thought alone was enough to put Bruno in the space he needed to get the exact unbiased vision that Abuela desired.

With his mind completely blank, his entire body relaxed, preparing for the storm that's about to follow as a consequence on having this Gift in the first place. Involuntarily, his eyes began to glow green from underneath the blindfold, causing Abuela to smile and lean forward in her chair in anticipation of what was going to be unfolded.

While Bruno knew what to expect from this, he couldn't help but hope and pray that this time would be different. Well… Nothing ever turns out different…

Almost out of nowhere, a sharp stabbing pain started in his chest and spread throughout Bruno's body, like millions of needles jabbing into his over and over. His breathing picked up, wincing from the pain, wishing like hell it would end soon. Since he didn't have anything to grab onto to use as support, he dug his fingernails deep into his bound hands, letting out a small whine of pain. The pain began to spread, feeling like someone was slowly digging out his teeth and fingernails. The circle of sand that was carefully placed around the chair that Bruno was restrained to began to pick up, flowing through the air until it formed into a sphere around Bruno with hints of glowing green. Particles of sand that brushed against Bruno's skin felt like a sharp pin scraping at him, causing him to flinch.

From the large gusts of wind from within the sphere of sand, the blindfold that was once over Bruno's eyes had been pushed back until it was resting on his forehead. Now he was able to properly see whatever visions that were to come to him. His eyes darted across the sphere, trying to piece the vision together, sometimes they showed up out of order and he had to decipher which was which.

"What do you see?" Abuela demanded, standing up from her chair, careful not to get too close. She learned from the last time if she got too close to the sphere of sand she may end up with sand in her eyes.

"I, uh…" Bruno mumbled, his eyes still trying to settle on one vision to focus on. His face scrunched up in pain, eyebrows knitted together as another wave of stabbing pain rushed throughout his body. How was he expected to focus in these conditions? "I don't…" He trailed off, knowing that that wasn't the answer Abuela wanted to hear, so he either had to zone in on one of the visions or accept the lecture he was going to have later. "Oh, wait…"

"Tell me about the Candle, Bruno."

"Candle?" He paused as he watched the glowing green vision in front of him begin to take shape. From what he could tell it was the family Candle sitting up on its usual spot on the ledge propped up in the house where everybody could see it. "It's bright. It's always bright."

Alma was relieved to receive the same answer she always got whenever she had to drag Bruno into the Dark Room. In all fairness, she rarely asked about anything else, it was always about that stupid Candle or questions about their family. Which made sense, Bruno supposed, but there was one question she rarely asked, but Bruno didn't have enough information to retrieve a vision.

"It's still bright," Bruno announced, breaking Alma out of whatever trance her thoughts put her in. She snapped her head up at him to see that his eyes were fixated on what she had to guess was the vision he was referring to. He let out a half-hearted chuckle, giving a half-smile. "It's still bright, Abuela! Isn't that great!" He broke contact with the vision to look at Abuela from the other side of the sphere of sand, Bruno only wanted Abuela to be proud of him, so why was it whenever he looked at her after giving her a vision did she look sad or disappointed even? He had thought the goal was to make sure the Candle would stay lit. His smile dropped.

Why wasn't she proud of him?

"Did… you want a different vision?" Bruno questioned.

"Could you…" Abuela started, not making eye contact with her grandson. Bruno began shaking as the pain of the previous vision was only a dull memory but wasn't ready to have yet another vision. It was possible to do visions back-to-back a certain number of times but would cause more pain than the previous time. Even keeping the sphere going kept an aching pain in the back of his mind, so whatever it was she had in mind he was hoping she would tell him soon. "Ah…" She finally said, shaking her head and a small wave of her hand. "That's enough for today, Bruno."

"A-are you sure?" He questioned.

She gave him a forced yet gentle smile. "I'm sure."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Bruno relaxed his aching muscles, causing the sand to drop back into its neat circle that it was in once before with not a grain out of place. Every time he went through the process of conjuring up a vision not only did it cause excruciating pain, but it drained him to the point that he thought he would fall asleep in the chair.

Once everything settled down, Bruno's head drooped behind the chair, still breathing heavily as if he had to catch his breath. He couldn't help but wonder how long it would take of doing this will Abuela begin to treat him like the rest of the family? Sure, she wasn't overly amazing to them, but she certainly treated them a lot better than towards him. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever he caught their interactions.

Bruno felt a tugging at his wrists until the rope that kept them in place began to loosen. He could barely force his eyes open to see Abuela holding the rather sharp knife she had used to cut the ropes. From his blurry vision, he couldn't see the traces of bloodstains that were most certainly stained onto the blade.

"Buen trabajo Bruno," she said gently, ruffling his unkempt black curly hair.

Bruno raised his arms up to eye level, looking at his scarred-up hands. His muscles felt heavy, he had no idea how he was going to get up to his room like this.

He waited until Abuela unlocked the door of the Dark Room and exited before he forced himself to stand up from the all too familiar chair. His legs were shaky, when he took his first step he surely thought he was going to tumble over. There wasn't much in the room he could have used as support, so he made sure to take it slow out of the room. The burning touch of tears threatening to fall in his eyes was enough to make him stop just in front of the door, he refused to go out there with any indication that he had been crying. With one hand on the door, he used the other to rub his eyes heavily to make the feeling go away. With a deep breath and a quick sigh, Bruno put on a brave face before pushing the door open, the bright sunlight entering the kitchen was enough to disorient him for a few seconds. Once again, he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes.

Once he was able to see properly, he glanced around the kitchen to see the all too familiar bright pink dress of his oldest sister Isabela enter to see if he had emerged from the Dark Room yet.

"Hola Bruno," she said in too sweet of a voice. Meaning she certainly wanted something.

Bruno made himself look small; shoulders scrunched up to his sides with his arms close to his chest as he began picking at the skin around his fingernails.

"Hi…" he mumbled, making eye contact with her for only a moment before looking back down at the kitchen floor in between them.

Isabela glanced over her shoulders, making sure there wasn't anybody around in earshot, especially their mother. When she declared that the coast was clear, she stepped closer to Bruno, gripping his thin shoulders tight, shaking him a bit to make sure he was listening to her.

"Look… I need something from you."

"Uh…" Bruno made eye contact with her again, trying to discreetly back up enough to get out of her grasp. With the way her long nails were digging into his skin he already knew it would be a failed attempt.

"I need a vision from you," she practically whispered.

"Knock on wood, knock on wood, knock on wood," Bruno mumbled to himself quietly with his eyes shut tight as he hit himself three times. Once he released the breath he was holding, he opened his eyes and his shoulder relaxed a bit, brushing her hands off from him. "Sorry, Vision factory's closed."

"Sh! Sh!" She scrambled, holding a finger up to her lips. "I need to know something."

"What?"

Once again, she checked her surroundings to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. "I need to know if Mariano's going to propose."

Bruno stared at her with an almost irritated look. He should have known it was going to be a request for something selfish. He didn't have the energy to deal with the request, so without saying anything, he moved around her, only wanting to collapse on his bed with nothing but the calming noises of the sand dunes that lived in his room.

"You are so selfish, Bruno!"

He did his best to ignore his sisters' taunts, even though the words cut him deeper than anyone would know. At least there wasn't anything that could be said that would-

"This is why Abuela puts you in the Dark Room! It's your own fault that you don't do what you're told!"

Bruno stopped in his tracks; his shoulders scrunched up to his sides again. Even though he couldn't see it, Isabela smirked, folding her arms over her chest as if she was proud she struck a nerve against her younger brother. Silent tears rolled down Bruno's face, he forced himself to continue going towards the stairs so he could cry in the privacy of his own tower.

No… it couldn't have been his own fault for being thrown into the Dark Room, could it? It wasn't as though he was purposely disobeying Abuela, it all started when he told her that he was tired and didn't want to look at any visions at the moment. Since that day, he would be taken from whatever he is doing and forced into the Dark Room, restrained to the chair until Abuela decided to go in to get her vision. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault… He was just a kid.

By the time Bruno made it up to the top of the stairs and stopped in front of his glowing door, his legs were aching and in pain. He let out a sigh before going inside, immediately his feet were met with the warm sand that he was accustomed to. It was like a huge wave of relief washed over him, he was finally back in his own space, a space he knew was a sort of comfort for him.

As he walked towards the absurd amount of stairs, there was a deep sound of sand being moved around by seemingly nothing until it took the form of a pulley elevator. It was as if his room knew that he wouldn't have been able to climb up any more stairs.

"Thanks," he mumbled to the sand as he stepped onto the elevator. To this day he wasn't completely sure if the sand was a being that could understand his gratitude, but that didn't stop him from being polite to it anyway. He figured if the sand could create things to help him, it could also create things to hurt him as well. That was something to avoid.

It took a moment before he was at the top of his tower, immediately being invited to his living space. Including his bed, and most importantly…

"How are you doing, Odin?" Bruno questioned once he walked up to the large cage that held his secret pet rat. He opened the squeaky cage, holding his hand out to the grey rat that was already ready to come out to visit.

Once Odin was on Bruno's hand, he began sniffing him, hoping he would have some sort of treat to give him. Sadly, Bruno didn't have the time to sneak something upstairs for him. Oh well, Odin enjoyed Bruno's company.

Without saying anything else, Bruno took a seat on the edge of his bed, gently petting Odin as a way to calm himself down. Not only was Odin something that appeared to listen to him, but he was always a form of comfort for Bruno whenever he got too overwhelmed or whenever he gets out of the Dark Room.

"I'm… tired," was the only thing Bruno was able to force out. He wasn't good at expressing his emotions, not to mention trying to put them into words, but he always tried in some way or another. He continued to fidget gently with Odin, bouncing his leg. "Having a Gift is…" he trailed off, letting out a sigh instead. "You're lucky, Odin. You don't have to have a stupid Gift." He stared off at the tower wall across from his bed, almost in a trance-like state.

The grip he had on Odin became slightly tighter, but not tight enough that it would've hurt the pet rat, but it indicated that Bruno was having a rough time. Bruno's face scrunched up with his eyes forced shut, he was trying to fight off the tears that have been waiting to fall since he came out of his Happy Place in the Dark Room. Why didn't anyone ever talk about the Dark Room? Surely the rest of the family could see how wrong it was.

Once Bruno began to sob, the strange heavyweight feeling felt like it was being lifted from his chest. It would almost have been a relief, but at the same time Bruno hated the feeling of crying; it was embarrassing, he always had a headache afterward, and he hated how tears made his face wet.

"I hate it, Odin. I hate it, I hate it!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the rat broke out of the grasp Bruno had on him. He made his way up his arm until he made it to his shoulder where he plopped down in the crook of his neck as a form of comfort. While Odin wasn't physically able to give him a hug, this would have to do.

Bruno opened his eyes, sniffling as he gave Odin a pat for being supportive and knowing exactly what to do whenever he was upset.

"Thanks…"

Whether or not Odin understood what 'thanks' meant, he still bumped his tiny nose into Bruno's neck as if to say you're welcome.

"I wish you wouldn't say that Bruno," a gentle voice came from behind him. When Bruno spun around, his mother was standing there was a small smile while holding a tray of food for him. No doubt something to help his aches and pains.

Bruno did what he could to quickly wipe the tears away from his face so his mother wouldn't have noticed him crying, but he had no idea how long she had been standing there. He turned back around so his back was still to her with no indication of facing her, which was fine, Julieta understood that her youngest child didn't like showing his emotions, even though it wasn't exactly healthy.

She took the silence as an invitation to take a seat on the opposite side of the bed from Bruno where their backs were facing each other. She placed the food tray down on the bed next to him, hoping that he would eat something, she always told the family that food always made things better.

"Why?" He said through a masked broken voice, but a mother could always see through the masks.

"Because… you should be proud to have a Gift. Do you know how amazing it is to have Visions?"

Immediately Bruno's eyes squeezed shut, he held his breath and crossed his fingers as he gently began rocking back and forth. Once he released his breath, he moved on to his next set of tendencies.

"Knock on wood… knock on wood… knock on wood…" Followed by hitting himself three times to keep the balance.

His mother let out a sigh, turning to sit fully on the bed, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Look at me." Bruno bowed his head, shaking it as he didn't want her to see the red rings around his eyes from his previous crying. "Bruno, look at me," she repeated in a more commanding voice, knowing that he would, unfortunately, respond to that better. Once he moved to turn around to match her, she gently grabbed his face, having his eyes meet hers only briefly as he directed his eyes towards the staircase. "Look." He met her eyes again and she let out a sigh. "I told you to stop hitting yourself," she said quietly.

Bruno gave her a look as if she was asking for an impossible request. "You know I have to."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! If I don't then something terrible will happen!"

"Bruno…" she began gently, not wanting her son anymore upset than he was already getting.

"If I don't do them properly in order then the future will change!" His eyes began darting around as if something terrible was about to happen. "And if the future changes it'll be my fault! It's always my fault! And if it's my fault that the future changes-"

"Bruno."

"-then they'll make me give out more visions! …Knock on wood… knock on wood… knock on wood…" as much as Julieta wanted to grab his wrists to prevent him from hitting himself in the chest again, she knew it would only make things worse. He was already so worked up. "Then it'll hurt more and-"

Julieta wrapped her arms tightly around her son, bringing him in close for an equally tight hug. She knew she was a terrible mother for allowing this to happen; she was a terrible mother for allowing her mother and the rest of the family to outcast him and treat him as if he were a bad omen and use him for his Gift. She isn't strong enough to go against her own mother, if she had a chance to take Bruno and run away and make a new life for them away from all of this then she would have, but this is the only life she's ever known and wouldn't survive out there. Comparing Bruno before the Gift Ceremony to the present was downright heartbreaking. He used to be so open and adventurous, everyone adored him… Now he had an almost anxiety if his superstitions didn't play out exactly how they were supposed to. Julieta wouldn't go as far as to say Bruno was traumatized, but… she was starting to wonder.

"Hey…" she said gently, reaching a hand up to gently stroke Bruno's messy hair, knowing that this was one of the rare ways to calm him down from his ramblings. "Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" She felt him nod against her. "Remember…" she held him out at arm's length, noting the silent tears running down his face but not bringing any attention to it. "You are more than your Gift. You are my son. You…" Julieta trailed off, noticing the rat that was now sitting on Bruno's shoulder. She chuckled, ruffling Bruno's hair. "Still have that pet rat."

Bruno picked the rat up from his shoulder, holding him out to his mother with both hands. "His name's Odin," he said, sniffling. "He… helps me."

"Best not let Abuela or Isabela see him." He gave her a weak smile.

"Wanna hold him?"

"Oh, no-" Before she could finish her sentence, Odin jumped from Bruno's cupped hands and landed on her shoulder. Julieta squealed, trying to see where Odin had ended up before they both let out a laugh. She pushed her hair off to the side so Odin would get tangled up. She plucked him up, holding him in her own cupped hands now. "I'm glad you found comfort in something." Odin jumped back onto Bruno's shoulder. Julieta grabbed both of his hands, looking him in the eyes. "Remember, Bruno. I love you for you. You are my son, and nothing will ever change that, understand?"

He nodded; a small sad smile crept across his face as he looked down at the blanket in between them. She planted a kiss on the top of his head.

"Now, eat up. I promise it'll make you feel better."

"Okay."

As Julieta stood up from the bed to leave her son to himself, she let out a groan upon realizing she'd have to go down all those steps again.

"Why do you have so many stairs? I don't understand your room."

Bruno shrugged as he moved the food tray to his lap. "You could use the elevator?" He suggested.

Julieta raised an eyebrow at him. "You had an elevator this whole time? When were you going to tell me about it?"

"I just did," he answered jokingly.

She waved him away as the sand elevator appeared over the edge of the tower. While she was wary of using an elevator made of sand, surely it would beat having to walk down all those stairs again.

As she was heading back down, she gave Bruno one last wave before she disappeared.

Now Bruno was left as he always wanted it to be… Completely alone with only the sounds of the desert surrounding him.

Nothing would hurt him in the desert.

[marshmallowprotection]

You've probably received an ask like this before, but do you have any specific thoughts/headcanons for Ray Route AE, in regards to the twins, as well as Saeran and MC's relationship? And what I mean by that is... do you think Saeran would have an easier time (even just slightly) getting over his hatred for his brother than he does in 707 Route SE? How would they interact? Would it be similar to how many people interpret their interactions for after the SEs (brotherly love-hate type deal), except maybe toned down a little?

And as for Saeran and MC, I'm not so much referring to the contents of their relationship, but Saeyoung's reaction to it, how he feels about it, etc.

I hope this makes sense, because I love the way you explain things and I would love to hear your thoughts on these ^^

[417]

Hopefully, Cheritz will give us a canon answer soon. I’ve definitely had the time to compare the two of them since I spend so much time in Saeran’s headspace playing around with this and that. Now, if we compare the events of the Secret Ending and the events of Ray Route, Saeran is in a very different headspace by a long shot. His place in his life is also drastically different. Unknown spent two more years in Mint Eye than GE Saeran did. There’s a vast difference between 6 months of being trapped and two years of being trapped. 

Both Suit Saeran and Ray were long buried in Unknown’s consciousness with no MC around to keep them tethered to the front. It was only a matter of time until either of them couldn’t function with what Rika did. I view Unknown to be another personality that split from Suit Saeran after some point during that two year period. Unknown and Suit Saeran have some things in common but they don’t read to be the same person to me. 

SE Saeran is just Unknown post-therapy and confrontation with Saeyoung, so I don’t see them as separate people, but the same person just in different eras of life. I’ve got a whole other people I could make about how it’s possible that Ray could flood back to the surface in therapy, as well as Suit Saeran, but they may not have the same names by that point. That’s more so just a big post on the way that their system works and how all of them cope with their trauma. 

But that wasn’t your question, but I’d be glad to answer that too at some point if you’re curious! Some people are torn on if Saeran has DID or OSDD specifically, and that’s a whole other topic. Anyways, back to the task at hand, SE Saeran in question went through literal hell for a very long time. He is fraught with so much anger and pain. He physically lashed out at Saeyoung and took weeks if not a few months to truly come to terms with what happened. He has to live with blood on his hands as well. 

We all know that SE Saeran tried to get rid of himself and Saeyoung, too. His emotional crisis is a strong one. He’s hurting so much until Saeyoung can get through to him and they can start to heal. It wasn’t easy. It was a fucking mess and that’s how life is. After what they went through? It’s wrong to assume that it would be simple or without pain and tears. Even after the Secret Ending comes to a close and we see Saeran with everyone, he looks so tired. His emotional state isn’t healed. He’s going to be dealing with panic attacks and much of the lingering PTSD for years to come. Saeyoung will as well. 

It’s going to be a constant battle for them. 

But, they’re both trying and the MC, as well as the RFA, are going to be there to help, which is great. A good support system is important but that’s also going to be messy because... well, you know, the truth wasn’t completely revealed to all of the RFA and that’s a ticking timebomb in itself. Saeran’s got issues trusting and being around much of the RFA. He can’t be around Yoosung or Jumin for obvious reasons. 

Either way, the Secret Ending has a lot of weight to it and it’s going to hurt just as much as it can get better for the Choi boys. Saeyoung believes that things can get better, and he’s willing and ready to stand by his brother to fight for their happiness. You know how much turmoil Saeyoung went through because we watched it. We know that he’s willing to do whatever he has to do for the ones that he loves. 

Even if it feels like pulling teeth. 

Now, thinking about what happens in Ray Route, we see the boys past revealed to the world with a direct attack. Saeran is able to realize that he was lied to and manipulated by the people that were supposed to take care of him. He is able to find out on his own that he needs to leave Magenta if he truly wants to be happy and free from his chains. We watch him be so damn strong and turn against the brainwashing and gaslighting. What he did should not be glossed over because going against your abuser is not easy. 

I was so proud of him for learning that for himself. He says himself that MC isn’t the one that got to him completely. It was a combination of factors that allowed him to see it. From how Ray was treated to how Saeran is treated, how they are promised things, and how those things are taken away. How it just didn’t make sense that Rika was disrespecting him and taking away everything. Nothing at all made sense anymore. She said one thing and did another. He decided to fight it even though it made him feel sick. 

You can watch his actions on the last day. How talking about Mint Eye as a bad place makes him gasp and choke, and whenever he tries to give his brother a chance... well, you see how he acts when you’re still holding onto your phone so tightly, asking him to take a chance on the RFA. He nearly has a panic attack when he tries to even say that he should look into it, much less talk to the RFA about it. He knows that he’s been tricked but he’s bouncing between what he has been told and what he’s trying to learn. 

That’s not an easy process. Saeran is going to be dealing with a lot after the events of his ending that we know of. The sudden fusion of Saeran and Ray can actually happen, I know some people feel like that was out of the blue but that can very well happen whether they make the conscious choice to do that or not and it was the best thing for the body at that time. GE Saeran isn’t Ray and he isn’t Suit Saeran, he’s not the two of them smashed together and he’s not one or the other. He’s someone made up of those parts but also his own person. Again, that’s a whole other thing that I’d have to get into here. 

Saeran has a lot to deal with as far as his trauma goes but you know what the difference is between GE Saeran and GE Saeran? GE Saeran had the choice to set himself free and SE Saeran had no choice. He was cornered like an animal and just... exploded. He was put in a position that he couldn’t decide. GE Saeran had the choice to leave Mint Eye on his own. That already makes the world of difference in his recovery. If we’re talking reasonably here, he definitely needs to start seeing someone to talk about what happened as soon as he feels ready to open up. 

So, he’s going to be spending a lot of time working on his problems and God knows how long it’s going to find Saeyoung so he’s likely to be making some good progress on his own. His relationship with the RFA is already pretty good compared to his counterpart as well. He gets along with everyone in the RFA, and he’s particularly close with Jumin, which makes sense given their natural wits. 

Now, therapy and getting a support system is good for Saeran. He’s got his MC as well with him. However, that doesn’t mean that he’s ready for Saeyoung to be back. When they find his brother... he’s going to need time and space for this to work. But, I imagine that he’s in a better headspace to handle it. He will tense up if Saeyoung hugs him and gets overwhelmed to see that his brother is alive after whatever he went through. Saeran will have to gently stop him and let him know that he needs time, he can’t handle all of this at once. Saeyoung needs to take it easy too. 

He’s got to react to the fact that he’s no longer bound by the agency and that he can live a life not hiding behind a mask. That’s going to be his own journey in itself that we could talk about for a while and I hope it doesn’t get glossed over because Saeyoung’s got a lot of his own woes to work on. So, don’t expect it to be perfect or anything here either. 

Saeran is able to breathe through the unease this time, but his MC will be there to hold his hand and help him speak to his brother about it. That first meeting is going to be a lot. It might trigger him, too. That would be the first time that Saeyoung is able to see that Saeran has someone that cares about him and that would be the selling point. If his brother is overwhelmed and scared and the one with him holds his hand and gently calms him, and removes him from the issue at hand, he’s sold. 

No hesitation. 

You protect Saeran, you show Saeyoung that you love Saeran, and that’s all he needs to see to trust you. He may not know all the details at that point but you can fucking count on him to be on board. He knows how to spot liars and people with bad intentions, and you don’t have that. 

He wouldn’t forget to tell you that, either. 

I think even more than that when he’s around the MC, he will notice how they just know when to touch Saeran’s hand and calm him. Saeran and his Mc have this silent communication. They don’t even really need words. They just look at each other and understand. That’s not something that is easily found in any relationship and when you see people that work in harmony you can’t help but smile. Saeyoung has hardly ever seen Saeran smile and you know when he sees it, he feels grateful that someone was there for Saeran when he couldn’t be there. 

There’s going to be guilt and other feelings in that but he’ll swallow that down. One more thing to add to his list of things to talk about when he’s ready to get his own help. 

Saeyoung and GE Saeran are going to interact slowly but surely. They’re going to be awkward... tense... maybe not angry, but there will be tight moments that feel overwhelming for both of them. Saeran might get angry and Saeyoung might be upset so there’s no avoiding a fight here and there but it may not be as violent as with SE Saeran and Saeyoung. Them getting to know each other is like getting to know a stranger... it’s been nearly a decade, they really don’t know each other at all. 

Sad as that is, it’s fun to get to know each other again. Saeyoung gets to learn things about his brother all the time and he writes that down, trying to make things right and make up for the past... Saeran swallowing back his shame and telling his brother that he’s not mad, and them just looking forward. It’s not always easy but I do think that GE Saeran and Saeyoung will have a different kind of relationship given purely from the fact that Saeran was allowed to choose recovery instead of being forced into it. 

[flightfoot]

Let It Be Enough To Reach The Truth That Lies Ch. 3

AO3

Thanks to Miabrown, Marby, and Khanofallorcs for betaing!

-----

“You failed.”

Adrien flinched. “Yes, Father.”

Gabriel didn’t even look up from his screen. “We will train more tonight. For now, go to your room and work on your piano lessons.”

Adrien sighed, a mixture of dread and relief coursing through him. “Yes, Father.”

At least while he was playing piano, Father was unlikely to come through his door.

He’d never imagined he’d dread his presence.

He also never imagined his father would force him to attack someone.

---------

After ‘training’ with Adrien for a couple weeks (read: beating the snot out of him until he got good at dodging), he’d deemed Adrien ready for combat.

Or maybe he’d just gotten sick of his akumas being defeated by a teenage girl and wanted to try something different.

Adrien had been keeping up with the Ladyblog, watching every new video of her exploits he could get his hands on.

His respect for her had only grown.

As had his dread at the prospect of facing her.

None of his research prepared him for actually meeting her.

Watching her through a screen, none of it seemed real. 

Actually bumping into her? Being tied up with her? (He flushed at the memory.) That was a different story.

She’d been expecting him, been worried about him — or at least about Plagg. 

He’d wanted nothing more than to hand her the ring, get Plagg somewhere safe at least… but that wasn’t an option. Especially with his father watching through one of the drones he’d commissioned.

At least Adrien could always tell when one was nearby. They were quiet, but not quiet enough to conceal from his hearing.

He was pretty sure his father didn’t know about the additional perks his Miraculous granted him, like his improved hearing and night vision. Father didn’t appear to have those.

Did Ladybug?

Digging through his cabinet, he threw a piece of cheese to Plagg. He caught it handily, devouring it in a single bite.

The corners of Adrien’s mouth pulled up.

These might be horrible circumstances and he’d prefer Plagg was somewhere safe, but a small, guilty part of him was glad he wasn’t trapped alone.

“Sooooo what did you think?” Plagg asked, finishing off the camembert.

Adrien blinked. “Of what?”

“Of your Lady! You know, the one you’ve been watching on loop for the past few weeks? The one you’ve been fretting about constantly? ‘Oh no, Plagg, Candy-butt wants me to hurt her, what will I do?’ ‘She’s so amazing, Plagg, did you see how she used that Lucky Charm?’ ‘She’s so kind and brave and is the best thing since stinky cheese!’”

Adrien flushed. “Plaaaaaagg.” He meant for it to be a reproach. It came out as more of a whine.

He let out a sigh. “It’s not like she’s ‘My’ Lady, anyway. I’m her enemy, remember?”

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Suuuuuure you are,” he drawled sarcastically. “And that’s why you just-so-happened to get distracted by a nearby bird when the last dot on her Miraculous started beeping.”

He looked down. 

She was fast, but it wasn’t like he was any slouch in the speed department either. They were pretty evenly matched, which didn’t bode well when her transformation was bound to run out first.

So when a pigeon fluttered by, he may have pretended that catching it was a more enticing prospect than it actually was.

He ran around on all fours a lot, it wasn’t crazy to think he’d have a cat’s instinct to hunt as well.

If it happened to give him another weakness to be exploited, that wasn’t something he could help, now could he?

It was just the cat in him.

“I still have to fight her,” he said in a small voice.

He didn’t have much of an option on that. If he outright refused…

Well. Just because his father preferred using the Butterfly Miraculous, that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the Black Cat Miraculous as well.

And as an adult, he could use the special power repeatedly without cooldown.

He waged enough destruction while going through his akumas. Having the actual power of destruction literally at his fingertips? Adrien didn’t want to think of the damage it could cause.

Especially if his father touched Ladybug.

Adrien’d asked Plagg what would happen; if the kwami had Cataclysmed a living being. Once.

Plagg didn’t answer. But his expression? Told him he didn’t want to know.

At least, so long as he was allowed to have Plagg instead of his father, he could make sure Plagg wasn’t used like… like that.

Maybe he could even persuade Father to stop this! Or at least… at least rein him in. Stop him from going too far.

He- he hadn’t specifically tried to kill. Maybe he could reason with him if he started going too far.

Right?

Right. Of course he could. He was his father. He might be a supervillain, he might be awful, but he had limits. He had to.

Something small brushed at his hair.

Mom? Wait, no, she was-

Looking at his computer monitor he saw Plagg sitting on his head, patting his hair. 

“You know… you don’t have to fight her,” he said.

Adrien frowned. “If I don’t Father might decide someone else would be a better Black Cat wielder,” he argued. “Or maybe just torture you, me, or both of us until I agree to his wishes.”

Plagg shook his head. “You’re thinking about this all wrong. You already faked some cat tendencies, faking fighting isn’t that big of a stretch.”

“Fake fighting…” Adrien’s eyes lit up. “You mean like acting?!”

Plagg nodded. “I’ve seen those new movies you humans came up with. They’ve got some of the most impressive moves I’ve ever seen, but they still don’t get hurt, right?”

“Some of that’s done with special effects,” Adrien told him, mind whirring. “But not all of it. It helps if you know what angle things are being viewed from, what the audience is able to see-”

“Which you know, right?” Plagg prompted. 

Slowly Adrien nodded. “Yeah, since I can always sense the drones. And if I can just get Ladybug to play along…”

This.

This could work.

-------

Marinette chewed on her pencil distractedly. 

Why had her partner sided with Hawkmoth? The butterfly man wasn’t exactly subtle about being the bad guy! Granted, it didn’t seem like he was happy about it…

Tikki hadn’t been too interested in looking further into it. Marinette’d gotten the impression that this had happened too often for her to be all that sympathetic to whoever misused Plagg. She just wanted him back, safe and sound.

She couldn’t blame Tikki for that viewpoint. If she’d had a close friend who’d been repeatedly abused, she wouldn’t be too interested in finding out the specifics about the latest person who was holding them captive, either.

But that didn’t mean she, herself hadn’t considered it.

He’d looked to be about her age. Granted, it was hard to tell with the suits having some sort of magical glamour (Tikki had called it “quantum masking”, whatever that meant). 

Was he being manipulated into it? 

What would his parents think?

Or were his parents…?

She stopped, shuddering. She knew awful parents existed, of course, ones who mistreated and manipulated their kids, ones who did not deserve to be in their children’s lives. 

Even seeing movies and TV shows with some awful parents, it was a hard concept to wrap her head around. Her own Maman and Papa were always so kind and caring with her. Maybe stern if she did something wrong, but they always let her know what she’d done, talked it out with her, and let her know how she could do better. They were never unreasonable, and she never felt like they loved her any less, even if they were unhappy with her in the moment.

“Earth to Marinette!”

“WAAAUGGGH!” Marinette startled, flailing around wildly. 

Alya ducked, barely avoiding getting hit. “Woooah there, girl! Just wanted to ask what was on your mind. You’ve been staring off into space for the past five minutes.”

Marinette looked away. “It’s nothing. Just personal stuff.”

Alya quirked an eyebrow. “Well if you don’t feel like sharing right now, I had another reason for getting your attention.”

Marinette blinked, straightening up. “What’s that?”

Alya handed her phone over to Marinette, pressing play on a video. “The footage the person sent me was captured from a distance,” she explained. “So the audio quality’s nonexistent. But look! There’s a new supervillain!”

Marinette just stared at the video, watching Catboy collide with her, chase her, only to get distracted a moment later by a bird.

So that was why he hadn’t caught her! She’d been wondering. He’d seemed pretty fast, and unlike her, he hadn’t been exhausted from a fight.

“Do you think he’s a full partner to Hawkmoth or just a villainous sidekick?” Alya asked excitedly. 

Marinette hummed. “He seems pretty young… listening to Hawkmoth before, he sounded like an adult. This guy looks like a kid.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not a full partner,” Alya said. 

“True, but…” Marinette hesitated. The video didn’t capture audio, and wasn’t at the right angle to show Chat Noir’s expression before he started chasing her. “I just don’t get that vibe from him,” she said at last. “I get the feeling that he’s not the one pulling the strings.”

Alya looked at her a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you say. You’re not the only one to think so, anyway. I’ve had a lot of forum activity speculating on whether he’s as evil as Hawkmoth is.”

So she wasn’t the only one? 

“Really?” Marinette asked.

“A lot of it’s down to him being cute,” Alya said. “I’ve had to monitor certain threads VERY closely since he came onto the scene yesterday.”

Marinette blushed. “I, uh, hadn’t noticed.”

Alya narrowed her eyes. “Uh huh,” she said, not sounding even the slightest bit convinced.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, because he’s a villain and he’s only appeared once and Alya stop looking at me like that-”

Alya continued smirking at her.

Burying her head on her desk, Marinette groaned. This was not how she’d been planning to start the day.

*beep beep*

Turning her head to the side, Marinette cracked an eye open. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice still muffled by her arms.

“It’s the new akuma alert app the city just set up,” Alya said distractedly, scrolling through the alert. 

Akuma alert-

Marinette bolted upright. “What does it say?!” she asked hastily.

“There’s a new supervillain over near the Eiffel Tower. Calls himself Mr… Pigeon?” Alya frowned. “Wow, Hawkmoth is failing HARD at the intimidation factor. What sort of name is that? Marinette, you’ve gotta look at this outfit, I mean as a designer-”

Alya looked to the side.

And blinked.

“That girl is way too good at disappearing, I gotta get her to teach me how to do that,” she muttered at Marinette’s empty chair.

-----

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The swarm of ladybugs flew out, repairing what little damage had occurred.

It wasn’t much. Mainly just pigeon poop. A LOT of pigeon poop. Annoying, but a far cry from the collapsed buildings and major injuries from other akumas.

It’d had one other, unexpected benefit as well. The Black Cat wielder had shown up again (her stomach twisted at the thought) but he hadn’t been able to do much. Beyond constantly sneezing and the birds distracting him, he’d barely even been an obstacle. 

Hm. She’d have to ask Tikki whether she’d get ladybug instincts. Would she start eating bugs? Emitting noxious odors when scared? Cuddling up with people when she got cold. Okay, granted, she was prone to that last one anyway, but the others would be noticed!

A black blur rocketed towards her.

Oh. Right. With Mr. Pigeon deakumatized, there was nothing stopping the Black Cat wielder from going after her.

Crap.

He collided with her again, sending her skittering across the pavement.

She did a back handspring away from him (thank you, Miraculous reflexes!), landing on her feet just in time to start spinning her yo-yo into a shield. He tried pounding on it a few times with his staff, but it simply bounced off.

Nonetheless, he kept on pressing forwards, closer and closer.

Her earrings beeped four times.

CRAP.

SHE ONLY HAD A MINUTE.

She couldn’t let this turn into a battle of attrition. She had to get out of there NOW. 

She turned around, preparing to bolt.

That was a mistake.

He tackled her to the ground, landing squarely on top of her. He reached for the earrings. She tried to punch him, but he just caught her hands.

“Why are you DOING THIS?!” she asked him through gritted teeth. 

His ears flicked to the sides. Leaning in close he whispered, “Play along!”

She blinked, going still for a moment.

What?

His grip on one of her fists suddenly loosened. 

*CRACK*

She winced as her fist made contact with his chest. The suits were protective, but she’d experienced enough hits to sympathize with the Black Cat’s shock. It still sucked to get punched.

He flew off her, sailing several feet away.

Uh… that… should not have happened. She knew that she was stronger while suited up, but she had a decent idea of how much force she put behind each blow. He should’ve been knocked back a foot at most, it wasn’t like she’d had the ability to gain momentum for the punch!

The Black Cat wielder backflipped several times, eventually landing on his feet. With a yell he ran towards her once again.

He’d told her to “play along”. What had he meant?

She couldn’t stay here and fight him. He KNEW that. 

And he’d let her punch him off. 

So… so, maybe…

He moved his fist forward to punch her.

Her eyes narrowed. Was it just her, or was his fist slightly off-center?

Just as his fist was reaching to the side of where her face would be, she flung herself back, forcing a wince.

He kept on coming, not showing the slightest bit of surprise at her sudden movement.

Because he’d WANTED her to do that. Had planned for it.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He just needed to put on a show.

“Come here, kitty kitty!” she smirked. There were some alleys off to the side. If she could just get them in there…

She was trusting this stranger a lot, she knew that. Especially since he was apparently working with Hawkmoth. 

But some part of her DID trust him. Maybe it wasn’t totally rational. He’d only given a few hints that he wasn’t on Hawkmoth’s side, and for all she knew he could be luring her into a trap, waiting for her to lower her guard.

It was a risk she would just have to take.

He screamed, running at her with his staff held aloft. Immediately she started doubting her plan.

Still, she darted to the side, slipping into the dark, narrow alleyway.

He followed her, smashing up some trash cans, making a lot of banging noise and yelling - but not trying to get any closer.

Quickly she ducked behind a nearby dumpster, knowing full well that the Miraculous wielder’s eyes were on her. If he wanted to discover her identity, all he needed to do was round the corner.

He came no closer, instead cursing loudly. “I don’t know how you escaped, Ladybug, but beware! CHAT NOIR is coming for you!”

Chat Noir, huh? Not the most creative name, but she was hardly one to talk.

A moment later she heard his pole extend. She peeked around the corner just in time to see him pole-vaulting off away from the alley.

She sighed in relief, sinking down against the dumpster. Tikki flew over to her, putting her hand on her chin like she was “The Thinker”.

“You might’ve been right, Marinette,” she admitted after a moment. “I don’t think I gave Chat Noir enough credit.”

Marinette smiled, scratching Tikki’s head. The little kwami giggled, flying up to her for a cheek cuddle. “Maybe Plagg’s in a better situation, too?” Marinette suggested. 

Tikki hummed. “I hope so. I’m beginning to think his kitten this time isn’t a bad kid.”

Her expression darkened. “But even if HE’S not, the person he’s working for — or pretending to work for — is. And he seems to have some sort of hold over Chat Noir — and subsequently, over Plagg.”

Marinette grimaced. Tikki was right. Chat Noir’s reluctance to oppose them might be a bright spot, but their situation was still pretty bad.

Holding her hands out for her kwami, she scooped the little bug up, safely stowing her in her purse.

“We’ll just have to encounter him again,” she said, looking towards the light of the open street. “And maybe get some more answers.”

And turn him fully to their side, her heart whispered.

[mirageofthecrystal]

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 18: Devil’s Advocate

Devil’s Advocate (noun)

a person who expresses a contentious opinion in order to provoke debate or test the strength of the opposing arguments.

The Inquisitor's eyes blinked themselves open, lids heavy with exhaustion. In trying to move his head and gain knowledge of his surroundings, he found great agony and a struggle to breathe. His hands and feet were bound tightly with chains, and a chill worked its way down into his bones. He found himself inside a tent, the canvas of the flap moving in the wind. A cot had been laid out, as well as a wash basin, though the water within had frozen in the night. The shadow of a guard stood in the entranceway, attention drawn by the sounds of moving and gasping for fresh air.

"So, you're finally awake," the guard commented, hand resting patiently upon the hilt of his sword in the case of any scheming on the Inquisitor's end. The Inquisitor perhaps thought to deliver a remark, but his throat burned far too painfully to allow him to utter it. "Lucky to still be alive... depending on your point of view. Quite unlucky that we're the ones that found you, judging by your garb." They may have been tattered and stained with much blood, but they were the robes of an Inquisitor beyond any doubt. "And how our fortunes have turned, to find one of Halone's mighty Inquisitors in a struggle for his life, left for dead with a blade buried in his throat. She will be pleased to know you've survived your ordeal, though your usefulness may come up short if you've been rendered mute by the wicked blade."

She? The Inquisitor considered, until he knew of whom he spoke. Then truly he had found himself in the most precarious of predicaments, imprisoned amongst heretics and at the mercy of their dragon-loving witch of a leader. Another figure suddenly entered through the flap, another man and not the she that the guard had eluded to. And while the Inquisitor had not recognized the guard, this one he did recognize by the make of his armor as well as the face that stared down at him with the embers of pity behind his eyes.

"..." He attempted to speak again, mouthing the name that matched the man, and the second man nodded. "So, you recognize me. Have I become so infamous to the Holy See that my visage is on the mind of all the fools and witch hunters of Ishgard?" Artemoux Penderghast, still bearing the trappings of the dragoon he had once been, regarded the Inquisitor with a wary gaze. "And you found no others along with him?" The guard shook his head, and Artemoux sighed. "And so my nephew must have slipped away in the storm. At least he is beyond the grasp of you and yours, Inquisitor. Leave us, Verdan. I wish to speak with him alone." "I'm sorry? Lady Iceheart was very specific about such things-" "And I will deal with her ire, should it come up. But this man is the last one to see my nephew alive, and I have much I wish to discuss with one of the Archbishop's toadies."

Verdan wished to protest further, but Artemoux was adamant. When the guard had finally gone, Artemoux tossed a waterskin into the Inquisitor's lap. "Drink. It will soothe your throat, might help you speak. Unfortunately, that scar the boy gave you isn't going anywhere. The good news is, your appearance finally matches the wretchedness of your heart. Now, let us get down to business." The Inquisitor lifted the waterskin to his mouth, cupped in his bound hands, and drank deeply of the cold, soothing liquid. It subdued his discomfort somewhat, and he rasped and coughed. "If my nephew escaped your grasp, I expect you aren't done burning my family to the ground with your lies." Mariuseaux at last found his speech, spitting at Artemoux's feet. "Lies? From what I can see, there is no lie to be had. You are among traitors to the Holy See, just as we believed." Artemoux planted the bottom of his boot against the Inquisitor's chest, pinning him down.

"And it is that very vile FILTH that I speak of. For now that I am here, I know the truth of our tale. I know that in accordance to the will of the Archbishop, you and yours have used your deception to poison the people of Ishgard against the prospect of peace when it is our blood, the venerable and honored blood of King Thordan himself, that ignited this millennia long struggle between man and dragon." The Inquisitor allowed himself some semblance of laughter, but Artemoux's boot reminded him of the position he was in.

"And who has filled your head with such nonsense? The witch known as Iceheart? A known heretic, traitor, and dissident who tirelessly works to undermine the authority of the Holy See at the behest of her Dravanian masters?" Artemoux stepped down on Mariuseaux's chest, robbing the man of the air in his lungs. "You will not speak her name in vain, monster. And you know as well as I that the Archbishop has maintained this farce for his own power and benefit. I too would have doubted the words of the Lady Iceheart, had she not shown me the truth of the Dravanians, and had I not sensed the truth in her tale. And while it is correct that the rage of Nidhogg seeks to consume all Ishgard, it was actions of our own making that doomed us to this fate. If only we would repent, we could find peace. But peace would rob the Holy See of its power, wouldn't it, if the people knew they had been lied to for all these years?"

He let up his boot so that the Inquisitor might respond, and the man dryly cackled again. "You think it matters that you know some vaunted truth of our ancestors sins? You truly believe that anyone would believe it against the words of the Archbishop himself who has always led our people in the right direction? Even if you could prove it, which you can't... do you think they would willingly do as Iceheart wishes, and lay with dragons like that whore she worships so fervently?" The boot smashed into the side of his face, knocking out a pair of teeth and causing his lip to bleed and swell. "You will not speak ill of the Lady Iceheart or of Saint Shiva, Inquisitor. You hold none of the power here." Mariuseaux spit out a mouthful of blood, smiling up at the former dragoon with malice painted all across his visage.

"Once a noble defender of Ishgard, rendered into nothing less than the heretic's personal mongrel dog. Oh how the might have fallen so far. Once you wielded the lance mightily in the name of the Fury, and now you strike and abuse prisoners because you do not like the tone they take. You have been poisoned by the whispers of dragons, Penderghast. And by the will of the Fury, I will survive this... and I will ensure that all those who share your blood suffer a fate worse than death in your stead. Your foolish nephew, your brother and his peasant wife, that wretched niece of yours who even know is at the mercies of the Temple Knights and all their... proclivities. Just because you believe in our fault for starting this war, it changes nothing. The only way to save Ishgard is to destroy dragons and those who sympathize with them. Personally, I care not who is it fault. But to allow a peace between man and dragon is of the most unnatural way, and I will NOT stand for our people falling so low to cavort with beasts and animals whom serve no purpose other than to be hunted and wiped from the face of this world!"

[twoforts]

notes for a longform mother daughter blu spy and blu scout angst fic that i wanted to write below the cut

its probably never going to get written lol

also sorry if theres anything cringe in there i havent looked at this in a long while

enemies to friends/found family snowed in BLU Scout + BLU Spy fanned fiction

OCT252020 at 245AM

BLU scout

inspiration:

- Allison Bechdel (in her novel Fun home)

- Carolina (from rvb)

ambitious, loud, secretive*, competitive

*scout knows how to distract from questions by answering questions that werent asked. she also is able to avoid seeming secretive by being open about too many other things. the queen of TMI, she talks too much, so it makes others eager to shut her up, and not pry.

BLU spy

inspiration:

- Allison Bechdel's Father (Fun Home novel)

- [ a teacher from my hs ]

- the Director (from RvB)

- Vespa (The Penumbra Podcast)

depressed, followed by dread, tragedy and death; know-it-all, unlucky (spy is the black cat), spy has issues with remembering faces due to brain damage, she has also convinced everyone that she is swedish

> followed by death, spy eventually realizes she doesnt want to kill anymore, even though death isnt permanent here, its stench follows her. she no longer wants any part in the violence.. she wants to heal, and for a while, she does. but she could only keep it up for so long.. recovery affected her performance for the worst, and the killings of her teammates and their pitiful stares snapped her into relapse. as her mental state continued to deteriorate, she only became more lethal, furthering her decline. the blood on her hands. the cold snow.

Chapter Title / Major event outline

Chapter 1

the meeting / the reunion

scout arrives to meet her mercenary team for the first time.

maybe looking over the dossiers again on the train just before arrival

put emphasis on meeting the spy?

maybe after each character is introduced, scout thinks something non-specific but referring, maybe at the end of the day when she finally gets to her room

Chapter 2-4?

working title

scout getting to know the team members. she tries to act natural, and succeeds. the mercenary shes most interested in is the spy, but no one knows. as scout gets to know the spy, the scout, who admires ambition, begins to hate what she sees. the spy, who is a depressed and broken shell of a woman (to the scout). Knowing what the scout knows, she hates this about the spy, and almost says things she shouldnt(things about spy being her mom), and actually says other things(harsh things about spy and her personality, as well as things she cant really control) and when scout returns to her room that night, she cries, both for herself and the spy.

Chapter 5-(X-1)

- events that happen between here:

the team doing very well with scout's arrival

- scout getting to know team members

spy making progress toward recovering from deep deep depression, but seeing less results from her work

- side stories involving other team members

- scout growing to hate the spy

- spy learning to hate scout as well

- spy growing more depressed and doing better at her job as a spy compared to when she was recovering, and the turmoil this brings

- the team doing very poorly due to multiple internal conflicts

- the team continuing to do poorly

- various chapters regarding the scout's past, each with holes to be filled both by the future scout, and finally the future spy

- ^ including scouts search for spy, and what scout knows about her

Chapter X-(X+2)THREE PARTS

THIS IS THE MIDPOINT OF THE FIC

the turning point / reconciliation

the chapters where scout and spy stop being so awful to each other for the sake of helping their team win a match for once.

PART ONE (X)

a major event or wake-up call happens and they decide they need to bury the hatchet

PART TWO (X+1)

they have trouble getting along still. they have bad synergy and while both are trying to make amends, they dont see eye to eye, which builds frustration in both of them.

PART THREE (X+2)

an epiphany, something clicks, and theyre both trying and succeeding at being decent to each other. baby steps... there are still incidents, but they begin working through it constructively

Y=X+3

Chapter Y-(End-1)

from here, scout and spy have their ups and downs. this is the friends part of the fic. where any remaining malice is squashed. where trust is built, broken down, and built again, until scout and spy become the two people who fundamentally understand and respect each other the most in this world. genuine care is built. by now we know that both spy and scout are lesbians, which they bond over. they go on a one-on-one mission together, that for once, works out really well. and spy. The Spy. First name "The" Last name "Spy", The "i am unknowable" spy, decides to confide in scout, which brings us to the last chapter(s).

Chapter (End) (potentially multiple chapters)

The end / the spy with nine lives

as an ultimate mark of trust, spy tells the loudmouthed scout about what happened to her, something she isnt proud of, but isnt sure she regrets. a large step in healing for the spy, and pretty utterly unheard of. (flashback chapter in the life of the once young spy)

**** ABUSE, FAMILY DEATH, PERIOD BIGOTRY ETC. CW FOR THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH

the spy was abused at a young age, her elder brother was murdered when she was young as well. spy lived in russia as a lesbian. she knew at a young age, she would kiss women, offer propositions and the like. she got caught one day. to avoid being institutionalized, she married the first man she met, who then abused her, and tried to trap her in the marriage by getting her pregnant. Spy kills her husband shortly after recovering from childbirth, fakes her death, and leaves the child, and her old life behind. she flees to sweden, where she meets, and loses the love of her life. she leaves sweden. spy does a lot of misguided living... at first she does her best to check up on her daughter, but only 3 years in, spy loses track and feels like a failure. the first of many failures in her career in espionage. at one point she tried to get lobotomized herself, she gave herself brain damage and amnesia. she is the kind of person who, despite any kind of perseverance or optimism, dread and death and despair follows her... no matter how hard she tries. spy eventually finds herself where she is now, and no matter how many times she wants to forget all the lives before her, she never stops wondering what became of her offspring.

******** END CW

epilogue

upon hearing this, scout receives the definitive answers she was looking for. and for old competitions sake, relishes in knowing something the spy doesnt. then they cry on each other again or something (scout knows spy is her mother, but spy does not know scout is her daughter and thats the end of the fic or something)