#i grew so resentful of everyone how they keep on doing the worst low man shit and then victimize themselves

[iftitah]

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[deathisanartmetzli]

You Don’t Get It || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Current - 10:29pm

PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli stop by the hospital for a simple errand, and what transpires is not so simple.

CONTAINS: Drug tw, Addiction tw, Abuse tw, Physical Abuse tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Gaslighting tw, Alcohol tw

Milo didn’t enjoy the hospital. Not only did it hold far too many memories of his childhood, and the relationship he used to share with his parents, it was clinical, and overwhelming. Now that his senses were heightened, every smell, and sound, along with the bright strip lighting overhead felt like an assault, battering him from all sides, pressing in on him until he felt small, and crushed under the weight of it all. Though he was grateful Metzli had agreed to take a detour so that he could drop off the pager Harsh had forgotten when leaving the apartment for his night shift, he was also incredibly on edge. He wanted to get in and leave as quickly as possible, which was why after successfully delivering the pager, he was hurrying down the halls, undeniably familiar to him even after so much time had passed. He hadn’t told Metzli that his parents were probably working, he wasn’t even sure he had told them they were doctors, but he would be able to explain when they were safely inside the car, on their way to whatever bar or club they were going to spend the rest of the night in.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it now. Things had been difficult for years, complicated, and messy in a way few people understood. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on so he turned to offer his friend a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it was the best that he could manage considering the vague sense of panic settling deep within his chest. “I fucking hate this place…” He muttered, hoping that would be enough to justify his odd behaviour. He kept his head low, running through every way he could continue to make small talk, and avoid any questions. No doubt Metzli was going to be full of them. Accidentally catching the eye of a nurse who used to give him lollipops when he would visit with his dad as a child, he saw a flicker of recognition in the way that she looked at him, and began to walk even faster. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. “Don’t look at her, please-” He half begged. What if she stopped them? What if she sent a message to his mom and dad? “Come on, let’s just go-”

Metzli was annoyed with the pit stop the two had to make before going for drinks. Even worse, they were stopping at a hospital—probably the worst place for a vampire to be. All the smells—cleaning products, blood, death—they arched a brow at Milo. He was much more nervous than usual. “Depresso, everyone hates hospitals. They suck.”

Hands were pocketed as the two navigated the halls and Milo’s attempts at appearing calm were failing. Yes he hated hospitals, but Metzli was gathering that he hated this hospital in particular. Just as their mouth opened to ask what the hell was wrong, they ran into a woman. A clipboard clattered to the floor and Metzli swiped it up quickly to hand it back, “My apologies ma’am, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

A flirtatious smile formed and they cocked their head to the side. Milo’s mom may be older, but she was certainly beautiful. Just before they were about to put on the real charm, the doctor recognized Milo and turned her focus to him.

They managed to make their way down a few more corridors without any kind of interruption, and Milo was almost starting to believe they were safe. His parents could be in their offices, which were situated on another floor. Or maybe even in the cafeteria, sharing a coffee during their lunch breaks like he had seen them do so many times before. But his hopes were dashed when, forcing Metzli to keep up with him, they walked into a doctor, a blonde woman whose scent he recognised almost immediately. Coming to a halt, feeling every emotion he had been working to repress, he stared at the face that looked so much like his own. Distracted by Metzli, it took his mother a few seconds to realise who they were with, but the moment she laid eyes on him her expression shifted, pain obvious in her eyes, despite an underlying hope that he recognised all too well.

“No, no, don’t apologise.” She insisted, her voice quiet, confused. “Thank you.” She accepted the clipboard, not taking her eyes off of her only child. Milo knew she was wondering whether he was ready to come home.

“Hi, Mom…” He said, his voice cracking as he broke the sudden, awkward silence. As if on cue, she glanced behind her, and his father emerged from a private room. Moving automatically to stand beside his wife, it took him far less time to realise who she was talking to.

“Ali, I’ve put in a request, a technician should be here in about an hour-” Breaking off without warning, he turned to stare at his son. His eyes automatically began checking him over for any signs of physical injury. He was noticably flustered, but doing his best to remain calm. “Milo?” He asked, his voice sharp, an edge to it as he clearly tried to figure out whether there might be an ulterior motive, or a darker reason for his visit to the hospital. They all knew he wouldn’t show up for a family reunion. “Are you hurt?” Milo faltered, shocked by the question. For a brief moment he was reminded of the fact that they cared. But before affection could overwhelm him, his usual guards fell into place, aided by the alcohol he had already consumed over the course of the evening.

“What?” He demanded, his anger coming to him easily. A well practised routine by now, one he was confident in. “You aren’t going to ask me to take a drug test? Or empty my pockets to make sure I’m not stealing pills from your precious patients?” His dad didn’t react, far too used to the defensive response, but his mom bit down on her bottom lip, hurt by the accusation.

“Milo, that isn’t-” She started, but he cut her off, refusing to let her get under his skin. What he was saying was valid, they had made similar judgements in the past. They had questioned him, yelled at him, cried in many desperate attempts to emotionally manipulate him. The two interventions they dared to stage still filled him with rage, and a burning shame that he willed himself to ignore. He wasn’t the problem.

“Whatever,” he muttered harshly, making an effort to avoid eye contact with them both. “We’re leaving, right Metzli?”

Metzli was stunned by the verbal interaction between Milo and his—parents? They could only look back and forth between the two parties as they held their own private conversation. But they could hear it all. The anger and resentment on Milo’s behalf, and the parental love and worry from his mom and dad. It created a whirlpool of emotions in them, unsure on how to feel or even react.

Milo’s mother clearly seemed worried, only asking if her son was okay, and she was met with this? A grown man acting like an ungrateful brat to parents that actually seemed to genuinely love him and care about him? Oh, oh no. Metzli grew angry and stepped in without thinking. “What the hell is the matter with you, Milo?” They growled, defending his parents. “They’re just asking if you’re okay and you’re acting like a fucking asshole!”

Anger rose and rose from the pit of Metzli’s stomach, straight to their chest. Milo was acting as if his parents just yelled at him, or even put him down. They weren’t having any of it. Not when they knew what it was truly like to not have parents that loved them.

Milo fell silent, stunned into submission by Metzli stepping between himself, and his family. He could see that his parents were equally as surprised. The three Summers watched, listening as the vampire began to berate him for his frustration. Any confusion, or curiosity was very quickly washed away, and he found it was suddenly very easy to direct his anger towards his friend. How could Metzli assume to understand the situation after hearing less than two minutes of a conversation? How could they call him out when they didn’t know what he had been put through by the two people standing opposite him? He loved his parents, he wasn’t afraid to admit that. But having parents who wanted to change certain aspects of who he was, aspects that weren’t hurting anybody, was painful. He hated it. Why couldn’t they just accept him? All of him. “No, they’re not.” He snapped. “They’re trying to work out how many drugs are in my system.” Even if they were concerned for him, the question would be at the forefront of their minds. “And whether or not I’m going to embarrass them in front of their colleagues. Colleagues they decided to talk to about their son being an addict.” How many times had he come home to find new leaflets, and studies on the kitchen table? Notes from nurses, and doctors his parents were close with about how best to handle a child with an addiction. Only they didn’t have a child with an addiction. “You don’t get it, okay? You don’t get to stand there and call me an asshole.”

“And so what if they are?!” Metzli snapped back, no longer holding off any of their words or emotions. They got into Milo’s bubble, looming over him to intimidate. “Are they locking you in a fucking basement?!” Hands pushed Milo backwards, not quite hard enough to make him fall. “Are they beating you until you bleed?!” Another step forward, another push back. “Are they leaving scars all over you?!”

Anger pushed and pushed, taking them to their breaking point. Metzli may not know exactly the relationship the family had, but it obviously stemmed from a place of love. To see someone be so ungrateful and even cruel against that made them snap. Milo’s shirt was now firmly grasped into fists as they raised him off the ground with ease. “No! They are showing you love and care! Something you obviously are taking for granted!”

Tears streamed down their caramel face, and hands were on Metzli’s shoulders—it was Milo’s parents. Eyes softened when they turned and made eye contact with them, and they let Milo go. “Even now, they are trying to protect you,” words were strained and wet behind hot tears. A small crowd of nurses and doctors began to form, but they continued. “You don’t get to stand there and act like your parents are hurting you when you don’t even know what that really feels like. When you have parents that want you and care for you enough to make sure you stick around.”

Pain was painted on their face, full of sorrow and disdain for what they had witnessed and what they had experienced. Closing their eyes for a few seconds, they sobbed softly and walked a few feet away to recollect themselves.

Milo’s eyes widened as Metzli descended on him. He realised there wasn’t just anger in their voice, but aggression too, and he curled in on himself, a subconscious attempt to make himself small. Forced to retreat, he stumbled backwards, his chest stinging where Metzli had laid their hands on him. He wasn’t expecting to be pushed, to be physically challenged in front of his parents, but there was nothing he could say. He wasn’t about to apologise. If anything Metzli should apologise for making so many assumptions. “Stop it.” He demanded, regaining his balance, and trying to sound firm in his order. Taking another step back when his friend decided to push him for a second time, he only felt his anger surge. This wasn’t fair, nothing about this was fair. As if being in the presence of his parents wasn’t difficult enough, Metzli was determined to make it worse. “Metzli- stop!” He said again, scrambling to grasp at their hands as they lifted him easily from the floor. It was a terrifying sensation, finding himself so out of control. The toes of his shoes slipped against the linoleum floor, desperately trying to find purchase. For a brief moment he worried they were going to throw him backwards, do something to further draw attention to their unnatural strength, but then his mom rested a careful hand against their shoulder, attempting to de-escalate the situation.

“I don’t really know what’s going on here between you two… but this is a hospital, this isn’t appropriate.” She said, her voice quiet, as always tinged with disappointment, and hurt. Milo resisted the urge to look her in the eye, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw there. Feet finding solid ground again, he shook Metzli’s hands off of him, brushing down his shirt with a shaky huff of breath. Trying and failing to compose himself. They were crying, but he didn’t care. Not right now. Not in this moment. “Protect me, and change me.” He bit out, edging away from Metzli in case they tried to lift him again. How many times had his parents told him he was wrong? Broken, and damaged... How many times had they told him he had a problem, like they knew him better than he knew himself? They wanted Milo, the perfect, clean and sober son. The son who didn’t exist. Not Milo the disappointment, the son who only ever wanted to have a good time. Turning to face Metzli, he defiantly held their gaze, mustering all of his courage to do so. “I do know what that feels like. Not in the same way you do but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by his mom, who was watching him with fresh tears shining in her eyes. She seemed oblivious to her colleagues, who were hovering nearby in case security needed to be called, politely making conversation among themselves to offer the family privacy.

“Milo, we don’t want to change you. We’ve never wanted to change you.” She begged him to believe her. “We only ever want you to be okay.” Glancing over to Metzli who had decided to put some distance between themself and the situation, he could see his mom’s heart break for this person she didn’t know. The maternal instinct in her wanting to wrap Metzli in her arms and offer them a loving, undeniably patronising support network. He shook his head, his throat dry, his chest tight. It wasn’t that simple, it was never that simple. Because his version of okay was very different to the version his mom and dad liked to discuss.

“I am okay.” He snapped, finally looking them both in the eye, his gaze shifting between his mom and his dad as they stared at him, looking as lost as he had ever seen them look.

“Milo…” His dad was hesitant to speak, overly aware of the crowd forming, and of Metzli still standing a few feet away from them. He could sense the situation was precarious, and he clearly didn’t want to make things worse. “We just want to get you help. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Let us help you.”

There were those words again. Help. He needed help. Everything that had been building within him became amplified, he could hear every heart machine, every IV drip, every shuffle of paper, every cough, every sneeze. He could smell his dad’s cologne, his mom’s perfume, her hair products. Even their washing detergent was obvious, permeating the air, creating a thick haze of nostalgia, a childhood long left behind. His anger rose in his chest, raw, and hot, and before he knew what he was doing he was shouting as loud as he possibly could. “I DON’T NEED HELP!” It tore out of him, echoing against the sterile walls, and silence fell over the hospital wing. Finally nobody was able to pretend they hadn’t noticed the altercation. He felt tears break free to run down his cheeks, and looked around at the nurses and doctors who had known him since he was in diapers. How many of them had coloured in with him during their lunch breaks, or kept him entertained in their offices by playing I Spy while his mom and dad dealt with emergencies? How many of them used to babysit? Or carry him around on their shoulders, explaining different machines, and what they did to help their patients? What did they think of him now? Did they even recognise him as the same person? Intelligent, curious, determined to become a doctor when he grew up?

His breath coming in short gasps, he took one last look at his family, at the people who had raised him, before pushing past them, needing to get away from the heavy environment, the weight of so many eyes upon him. He didn’t know if Metzli was following him. Why would they? But he didn’t care enough to check.

Fists were balled into fists as Metzli continued to listen idly. Body shook with angry vibrations. For Milo to think that their experiences were even close to similar baffled them to the point of silence. What happened was an overreaction, and they knew that, but it was too late to take it back now. All there was to do was let the family have their not-so-private conversation while they waited a short distance away.

Hearing how the doctors spoke to their son made something form in their chest. Metzli felt jealous. They supposed that fueled their outburst as well—angry at how Milo treated what they had always wanted, what they could never have. At Milo’s snap, they grimaced, hearing the twinge of pain beat in his parent’s hearts. Being alive this long, they knew what despair sounded like within a heart.

Mrs. Summers’ heart rattled and beat erratically, playing off the fearful hurt she felt, while Mr. Summers’ heart pounded with anger that he failed his son. Everyone watched Milo walk away, and Metzli didn’t bother saying anything to him as he passed. Instead, they stepped up to Mrs. Summers, only looking at the ground to say, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” It was weak, soft, and laced with the tears that still fell from their eyes.

Without another word, Metzli turned and went after Milo, still silent as they reached the outside world. The only thing that could be heard was the crunching of gravel beneath hurried steps. “If you think those are bad parents, I’d hate for you to have had mine.” They said finally, with no emotion.

Milo lit a cigarette the moment he was outside, sucking down the smoke as though it could fix all of his problems. The cold night air stung at his cheeks, causing the tear tracks there to burn, and he relished in it. The physical sensations were a welcome distraction from his inner turmoil, though it didn’t take long for Metzli to catch up with him, and bring with them everything he was trying to run from. “I heard you!” He shouted, unable to help himself. He couldn’t lower his voice if he tried. “I heard you apologise to her- you had no right to do that!” He took another long drag, hands shaking with emotion. “Fuck you, Metzli. Fuck you and your bullshit!” He was pacing, almost frantic in his movements as he tried to work away the energy still tense in his muscles. The fear of Metzli punching him, or pushing him, or picking him up. The fear of his parents following him. The anger, and the hurt that radiated throughout his body as he thought about what had just taken place. Fresh tears spilled over, and he scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I don’t think they’re bad parents! Sometimes they can be really fucking good parents, but you have no idea what they put me through- you can’t know!”

Unless they had lived through his own experiences, had to deal with the disappointment, the manipulation, the guilt trips, the interventions, the threats of rehab, the patronising talks, they couldn’t possibly understand why he was so upset. Why he longed to keep his family at a distance. He was doing so well. Metzli just had to ruin his progress by running into his mom. Why couldn’t they be more careful? If they had only watched where they were going then chances were he could have slipped away before his mom even realised he was in the same wing. “Fuck!” He kicked at a nearby can on the floor, listening to it as it clattered against the asphalt. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Metzli couldn’t take it anymore, anger had fully peaked. A crushing blow to Milo’s cheek was made by their fist. He fell to the ground with a thud and his cigarette flew somewhere into the darkness. “What did they put you through? Getting you help because they don’t want to watch their son lose himself?” They crouched down next to Milo, a fire was lit in their eyes. “You know what my parents did? I got beat, everyday. And when they were done, I’d get put in the basement. For days. But hey, at least I got a single fucking meal a day, right?”

A shaky huff pushed through from their lungs as they continued to lock eyes with Milo. “Every day they told me how much they hated me and wished I wasn’t born because I ruined their life. And you’re bitching about your parents being worried about you? About trying to help you because they’re scared that you’re hurting yourself? God, Milo. Fuck you.”

Finally breaking away, they stood tall and took a few steps away from Milo, and towards their car. “They’re not even embarrassed of you. They don’t try to hide it, to hide you. But hey, fucking sucks that they have had you take some drug tests so that they could find the best way to love you and help you.” Metzli sneered and continued to walk, not looking back. “Text me when you stop acting like an asshole.”

A car door opened and then shut, followed by an engine turning over. Metzli peeled out, wanting to be rid of the situation. They needed a drink, straight from a body, any body.

Milo yelped in pain, and shock as Metzli’s fist connected with his cheek. Pain spread outwards from the site of impact as he hit the ground hard. Staying sprawled where he landed, gravel cutting into his palms, it took him far too long to process what was happening. Before he knew it, before he could even try to stand up, or take a breath to steady himself, Metzli was crouching before him, spitting venom alongside their words. He could feel their pain, feel how much they were hurting, but he wasn’t comparing their pain to his own. He was trying to show them there were a million ways to hurt. “I don’t have a problem.” He spoke through his teeth, his jaw firmly set as black blood began to drip from his nose. “I’m allowed to be angry, you don’t have the monopoly on this.” Metzli didn’t own familial trauma. Just because they had suffered in a very particular and terrible way, it didn’t mean he couldn’t also suffer. Why was that so difficult to understand?

Holding Metzli’s gaze as they made eye contact with him, he swallowed, reaching up to cuff at the blood now working its way into his mouth. It was cold, bland, and chalky. Nothing like the metallic warmth he was used to. Pulling his knees up to his chest as Metzli finally stood again, he tried to protect himself should they decide to kick him, but apparently he wasn’t worth the effort. His friend turned towards their car, talking over their shoulder as they walked away. Reaching out, he found his lost cigarette, and clumsily picked it up, staring at Metzli’s back as he took a deep breath of smoke. He wanted to say something, anything to make sure he had the final word, but he couldn’t make a sound. So he watched them leave, exhaling, letting the back of his throat burn to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that he felt about as helpless as his parents had looked. I don’t need help. He told himself. I don’t have a problem. The more he said the words, the easier they became to believe.

[mimiplaysgames]

Terra Week Day 3 (Dreams/AU)

Summary: Terra hears stories about Xehanort during his apprenticeship. Everyone has something to say about his face. | Word Count: 3,954

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 3

To Dream is to risk. To risk is to show bravery. To show bravery is to embody strength. To embody strength is to Dream. 

In the middle of construction, Radiant Garden looks as though it’s been dealt an iron fist. Some neighborhoods need their roofs replaced and there’s now what they call an automatic trigger alarm system that is run by motion sensors. They are still clearing rubble from the streets on the west side. The east looks good as new, slowly filling back up with tufts of flowers. 

Terra has never been inside Ansem the Wise’s castle (well… him, not him anyway) but it used to be beautiful. It used to stand on brick and alabaster stone, graciously presenting a giant clock mechanism that made it look Grandfatherly, a home away from home, carefully placed gears running three pendulums. Now the remains are held up by pipes. Cranes pull up missing spires that have fallen off. The only part truly original to the castle is still that clock piece. Grandfather had a rough night but at least he’s cleaning up nicely.

Ven jogs to keep up with Terra’s strides. “I saw you talking to Naminé last night,” he says.

“You saw right.”

“I’m worried.” 

Terra is worried, too. Aqua, not suspecting anything, is leading the way up the stairs to the front entrance.

“You’re going to have to distract her for me,” Terra says, keeping his tone hushed.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Stall her when you get the chance.” At which Ven rolls his eyes. “Just for a short while.” Checking to see if Aqua has turned her head, Terra pretends it’s a casual conversation. With a (painted) smile, he says out loud, “Race you to the top.”

Ven groans and lags behind. 

At the top, Aqua greets one of the guards, a tall and meaty man with waist-length dark braids and slick sideburns that might as well be shaped by the edge of a knife. Terra has to push aside the question if this is one of the men who had kidnapped people for the sake of Xehanort’s experiments— the people he will meet today are not the same as they were.  He has to remember that.

“Terra,” she says. “This is Dilan.”

Dilan. Terra doesn’t recognize that name.

Speaking of, Dilan takes one glance at Terra before bursting into laughter, haughty and rich. 

“Aeleus,” he calls, his tone piercing like lances. “Come and see whose Somebody has finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

Aeleus. Nope, not this name either. 

Ven cowers behind Aqua when a head of orange curls appear around the corner.

If Dilan is tall, Aeleus is a beast, a walking fortress with muscles bigger than Terra’s head. It’s impressive enough to make Terra keep Earthshaker close at his fingertips. Aeleus has what looks like a permanent scowl—so woven into his skin that when he smirks, no other muscle moves with it. It must be the eyebrows, but it leaves Terra wondering if he’s going to get his nose caved in at any moment. These men do have reasons to hold resentment, after all. 

“I’ve given up on expecting a visit,” Dilan says when joined by his comrade. Two gatekeepers. “And I hardly ever expected to… feel this much when I would come upon your face again.” He grins and its equal parts amused and hurt. 

Aeleus grunts in agreement. He crosses his arms and Terra swears it makes him grow another inch. 

“If I may,” Dilan continues, “there have been quite the corrupted experiences in our history.”

Terra steps back. Corrupted. Before he can feel too sick, he feels a gentle hand on his wrist, Aqua stepping near him as she waits for his cue.

“I’ve carried such regret since,” Dilan says, hands wrapped behind his back. “I watch every face that passes by this castle, and at the end of each night, I’m left with this vacant pit in my chest, asking myself if we ever shared a shred of self-awareness, would we have pursued our dreams differently?

“Now that you are here,” he presses, angling down. “I realize it matters not what you remember of that time. I know when I see that shackled look in your eyes. I am not alone in this. For that, you’ll have no choice but to share the weight of that debt forever.” He smirks. “What say you, Aeleus?”

Aeleus measures Terra with his eyes. His voice is deep and as dense as rock. “You’re puny.”

Dilan spits into another bout of laughter.

Their roast of him eases Terra. He doesn’t know these men, and they know less of him, but they have a mutual friend called Burden, sharing the cheer. Aqua gets the message that all is fine, and lets go. 

“Well...” Terra starts, too self-conscious of the way he speaks. The sound of his voice must be entertaining for Dilan, who’s containing himself. “I’m here to make some things right. Can we come in?”

Dilan sustains a grin and raises a hairy eyebrow, nodding off to Aeleus in some silent conversation. “Did you really think you can have access without telling us the secret password?”

“A password?” Now he feels like a dork. “Can I have a hint?”

“You can give us your heart,” Aeleus says, and Dilan can’t control himself any longer.

With a clap of their hands, the castle doors open, and they spread apart to let Terra and his friends through. Terra has to wonder if normal will ever bless him with its visit ever again. If he could be normal when he hears of others’ stories, when some jokes hit too close to home. 

“Come back to train,” Aeleus says, giving Terra a hard knock on the shoulder that pushes him forward. “You need more muscle.”

The castle doors shut behind them with controlled weight, cutting off Dilan’s lingering amusement with a bang. Terra is left with hot ears, massaging his biceps to see if he’s gotten smaller.

“I think they like you,” Ven says. 

Pipes line the crooks between the walls and the ceilings. Like a respiratory system, it steams and churns, pumping humid life into the castle. Some of the halls are dark. Parts of the floor are chipped and if not, grimey. They have a long way to go before it looks pristine.

And Terra apparently has spent years here. But nothing gives him that spark. Nothing makes his stomach turn or drops a loaded bout of nostalgia. The very thought of having lived here sounds like an alternate reality that was never recorded, so at best it’s just a story, at worst a lie.

“Soooo…” Ven says to Terra, hands casually behind his head. “Does this place bring back any memories?”

Aqua scoffs. “That’s an awful question to ask, Ven.”

“You mean you’re not curious?”

Terra groans. It’s not the invasive nature of the question, but the fact that he asked Ven to lay low about this mission not several minutes ago and here he is nearly sabotaging it. He flicks Ven at the ear.

“What? I just want to know!”

“I don’t,” Aqua mutters. 

Stars. Terra’s pocket buzzes with notifications from his Gummiphone, but he ignores them. Now’s not the right time.

A man steps from around the corner, knee deep in a long, white lab coat with coiffed wrist cuffs and a folded handkerchief on his collar. He walks so quietly that they don’t hear him approach. Clean cut except for the hair—too clean, actually, and brushed over the front, like linen pulled too far to one side of the table.

“Master Aqua,” this man greets with a bright and timid smile behind the curtain. “How pleasant to finally meet you to face to face.”

“Likewise, Ienzo.”

Ienzo. Terra only recognizes it because Aqua keeps in contact with him. 

Likewise, when Ienzo looks over her shoulder, he lights up. 

“I’m Terra.”

“I can tell.” Ienzo clears his throat. “Pardon, I shouldn’t be so forward, but… You look so much like him.” He clicks his tongue. “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, though it’s not.

“I-I can show you around the castle.” He adjusts his collar. “It may seem unhomely now, but I assure you, it warms up in time.”

It’s already too warm.  

“This has been home for you for a while, right?” Aqua asks, a plastic quality to her voice as if she’s trying to patch things up. Nothing needs patching though. It’s just awkward. 

“Since I was a child.” Ienzo glances back at Terra. “May I say something?”

Everyone has something to say. Terra considers researching a magic spell to alter his face. “Sure.”

Ienzo tightens his collar again, the knot knuckling into his throat. “I really admired him. Xehanort.” 

It doesn’t feel like a punch to the stomach but more like his breath was sucked out by a hand after it slapped him in the face. “Um…”

“I don’t mean to be rude. Or forward.” This guy apologizes too much. And will choke himself if he doesn’t stop. “But for some time, ever since I’ve heard word of who you really were, I wondered what it would be like for the two of us to meet. I held no expectations. And yet… Everything about you is so foreign to me.”

There goes Aqua again, standing near and giving Terra gentle notice that she’s there. There goes Ven, gawking up at him and being completely unsubtle about how the conversation has turned. 

“Everything about this place is foreign to me,” Terra says, trying to be polite and failing at somewhere closer to aghast. 

“I apologize.” Ienzo turns his nervous ticks to his wrist cuffs, effortlessly attempting at cutting off his circulation. “I suppose you could say Xehanort was a profound presence in my life.” 

When Ienzo finally catches on to what he’s doing to his clothes, he exhales and puts his hand to his face, thinking deeply, maybe about a time in an alternate universe where lies and stories were real. It makes him look like a child.

“You would have been,” Terra says, keeping himself sweet, “very young when you met him.”

Ienzo nods slowly. “I was a child and taken in to study. Science was a language he spoke with ease and I wanted in every way to emulate that when I grew up.”

Terra can relate. “Was that hard on you?”

“Not in the beginning.” Ienzo slowly finds some courage with every word. “He wasn’t kind… Not like you are. He was polite, however, and he was focused. If anything, Xehanort had a sort of quality that made you believe all the possibilities were in your grasp. No matter what they were, or your age, or level of intelligence. He was magnetic. I grew up thinking I was capable of anything because of his support.” Ienzo stares down at a small puddle building up from the steam. “I wanted to impress. I believed in what he believed, and never once did I think—I justified everything I did. I did not know about you. And I am so very sorry.”

“I get it,” Terra says softly. “He made you feel like you were worth the time and effort.”

“Yes. Exactly.” 

And it came with a cost. Terra doesn’t need to say it, and neither does Ienzo, a quiet acknowledgement passing in the moments they nod and paint a smile between them. 

“I appreciate you giving me the time to release these thoughts,” Ienzo says. “I’ve struggled with them for some time, especially after waking up again.” 

“Happy to help.” Actually it hurts, but Terra can deal.

“Now I must reciprocate my efforts.” Ienzo turns to Aqua. “You are looking for your Keyblade.”

Aqua, for the second time that day, lets Terra go. “Did you find out anything new?”

After a moment, he says, “It is blue. Before you raise your hopes”—he lifts his hands in defense—“neither of us can recall what Xehanort has done with it. I don’t believe I have ever seen evidence of it during my time as a Nobody. We are regressing quite a few years in the past.”

“Oh.”

Ienzo blinks. “I was uncertain if I had dreamed of it, but when I was a child, I would take walks around the castle at night. A ritual I felt I needed in order to sleep. One of those serendipitous nights, I had walked past Xehanort’s personal office.” He glances at Terra, opens his mouth to say more, then thinks the better of it and addresses Aqua instead. (You, but not you.) “He had left the door open. He was studying a large object, electrifying it and concocting different spells to get it to react. I want to say it was blue, but I was not certain what I was looking at.”

They all stare at him in silence.

“He was… toying with it?” Aqua asks.

“I am not sure.”

“Maybe he was trying to activate it?” Ven says. 

“Perhaps.”

“How was he that night?” Terra asks, a distinct acidity to his throat and so help him stars, he might just spit it out in the next minute. It’s natural to hold your friends’ Keyblades. This is different.

“Frustrated,” Ienzo says. “I almost want to say that he was on the verge of giving up, as though it had given up on him.”

“That makes it sound like he was attached to it,” Aqua spits.

“That is a possibility. But whatever it was, it didn’t want to work with him.” 

Aqua smirks and lifts one elegant shoulder. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Let me escort you to our records room.” Ienzo gestures with an arm to the hallway behind him. “I’ll show you some of his earlier journals. Perhaps there is a mention of it?” 

They start ahead except for Terra, who waits until they move several paces before they noticed he opted to stay behind.

“Actually,” Terra says slowly, finding opportunity here and swallowing the acid down. It’s going to take at least two meals to remove the taste. “Being here and listening to all of this makes me a little dizzy.”

Anything involving discomfort with her friends set off panic with Aqua. “Are you okay?”

Ven gives Terra a warning glare.

Robin Hood would have tweaked the truth for the better good. What a horrible thought, stars, Yen Sid has got to be humoring Aqua in getting Terra prepared for his Mark of Mastery. 

“I’m just overwhelmed,” Terra says. She believes him.

“Maybe you should step outside.”

Ven puffs out.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Terra says, pressing Ven with a glare back. Have my back. “I won’t be gone for long. I want to be around to help you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aqua says, checking his eyes for signs of exhaustion. “Get your rest.”

It’s that easy and yet Ven walks away defeated. It shouldn’t take long. All Terra has to do is pull out his Gummiphone and find—

“Naminé.”

She’s back near the entrance. Thank the stars she prefers to use full sentences and could direct him where to go to meet her. When she sees him, she signals to be quiet and gestures for him to follow her. They go down a different hallway, one that is much more well kept than the one Aqua and Ven are taking. They pass by labs this way, some filled with computers, others with flasks, half of a library, and infirmary beds. Nothing so far that looks menacing or painful, but maybe Terra is overthinking the whole Xehanort-tortures-people legend. Or maybe the castle is designed to hide such things. 

She takes him to a room with a recliner and several computer screens that are running some diagnostics about the security systems outside, and closes the door behind them. 

Someone is already waiting here.

“Riku?”

“Terra.”

“What are you doing here?”

Riku holds his waist and draws out a long exhale, like a tired schoolteacher. “Ven was worried.”

“And spilled the beans.” Terra scoffs.

“And spilled the beans.” Riku smirks and it lightens up his whole face in a way that only fits with him. Terra never has to take anything too seriously for too long when he’s around Riku. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

A mixed feeling of anxiety and relief wash over Terra like a lumpy massage on his shoulders. “I don’t mean to do this in secret.”

Riku shrugs. “I would have.” 

“I need to say something,” Naminé says, her arms wrapped around a lineless notebook. Even when announcing to a room, she keeps herself soft and small. “I’m not entirely confident about this.” 

Riku snorts. 

“How is that funny?”

“It’s not, I’m sorry.” After noticing how she’s staring at him with utter confusion, he waves at her. “You’re a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

Unconvinced, she sighs and motions to the recliner. “Please get comfortable, Terra.”

“What is this going to look like anyway?” Riku leans on the dashboard behind him, a ghostly light silhouetting him like a grim reaper on guard. 

Naminé pouts. That same light gives her an eldritch glow, illuminating her white dress. “I’m going to attempt to connect Terra to Xehanort’s memories.”

“Nam,” Riku says, crossing his arms, suddenly serious. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Attempt.” 

“Xehanort is dead.”

“But memories stay with you,” Terra objects. They do. He can play them in his head, over and over. He already has for years. 

Eraqus lives as long as Terra can replay his voice. 

“From what I understood,” Riku says, leaning on his thighs, “you don’t remember being Xehanort. So how can you connect to his memories?”

But death is a one way door. 

“He was in my body,” Terra says. However, that Riku is skeptical of this suddenly makes Terra uneasy.

“Would you say you were bonded with Xehanort?” Naminé asks, so quiet it’s a shy whisper, afraid to ignite a bomb with the soundwaves of her voice. 

“Does irreparable damage count?”

“That may hurt you in the long run,” she says, pulling a stool aside Terra and opening her notebook on her lap. “What I mean is, the memories we share with other people form the bonds. They link together, like chains.”

Chains. Terra winces.

“You choose who you bond with, in all the decisions you’ve made in the past,” she continues.

In some way, Terra has chosen to bond with Xehanort, hasn’t he? He chose to confide in him, and he carries the shackles all these years later.

“But you are trying to access memories you’ve played no role in,” Naminé says. “There is nothing to link between the two, except for the body.”

“That isn’t enough?” Terra sits on the recliner. It’s stiff and unyielding, but he leans on his back and looks up at the monitor, illegible script running numbers upside down.

Riku groans.

“If you were still carrying Xehanort with you,” she says, “I think I could have made an artificial connection there.” Slowly flipping pages, she grimaces until she finds a blank slate. “Kind of like I used to do. I can create false memories. I can break chains and rechain them. But I cannot propel you to a time you did not exist.” 

“I did exist,” Terra says softly.

“What she’s trying to say,” Riku says, getting up on his feet and pacing,“is that you’re doing what Sora did before he disappeared.” Sora, a warning to keep you from getting lost in the woods. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Naminé splays out crayons on the nearby table: one orange, one blue, a green and a red. She looks sickly. “But Sora went too far.”

“So,” Terra starts, obviously a fool even to himself, “you mean if I don’t go as far, I can be okay.”

Naminé fiddles with her fingers. “I can’t guarantee that. I don’t know what you will end up seeing.”

Terra pauses. He’d be testing the limits of chance in putting Aqua and Ven through this grief again. It’s hard to imagine—Aqua getting the news of something happening, choosing not to cry in front of people she doesn’t know. Robin Hood would have made better choices.

But Aqua would grieve anyway if she goes through those books, picturing no one else but Terra doing all those horrible things. He’s heard some of the stories: the screaming at night, the monsters, the disappearances that start with the children and later swallow the entire family, where neighbors never see them come home again. Xehanort happened to all of them. 

“I don’t mean you will disappear.” She lets loose a nervous chuckle.

“But I could go nuts,” Terra says with a painted smile.

“That’s why Ven asked me to be here,” Riku says, that edge of his sanded out some. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve beaten Xehanort. Or Ansem. They’re the same really. I don’t think you’d be too much of a hassle.”

“Well, thanks,” Terra says, and Riku replies with a fisted nudge on his shoulder.

What’s the fun in playing the game if you already know the outcome? Terra doesn’t know why he’s thinking that way, but he’s absolutely stupid for taking the gamble. There’s no way Yen Sid seriously considers him for Mastery. 

And Aqua would grieve anyway.

“I don’t want to let it come to that,” Naminé says, eyes on the floor. 

“Are you going to make me watch Xehanort?” Terra asks.

“That’s up to you.” She starts with red. “I can’t make you do anything without writing memories for you.”

“Should let his heart guide him?” Riku asks.

May your fickle, sickly heart be your guiding key to oblivion and all the ridiculous delusions you hold dear.

“It’s a safer way to approach it,” Naminé says, not nodding but not shrugging either. 

“Why am I not surprised.”

Terra doesn’t know why she sounds so insecure about her skills when he’s heard nothing but amazing things. “I suggest letting your mind move with your feelings,” she tells him. “Don’t force a thought, and don’t get lost in the emotions. Just sit. Does that make sense?” She taps the crayon to her chin. 

“It does.” Terra counts his breaths. In three, out five. In five, out seven. Xehanort. He doesn’t know what to think about Xehanort. Hatred is useless. Revenge is futile. Anger will sabotage his way to Mastery. While Terra has tried his best in his meditation exercises, he’s only done them for the sake of earning good marks in his classes. Settling down, not thinking, relaxing—those are things Terra’s never claimed to be good at, especially lately. 

Xehanort walked through these halls with Terra’s body. Should he try and picture himself instead? In the same lab coat Ienzo wears? With white hair, most likely. And definitely too much hair gel.

“What’s it going to be like?”

“A dream,” Naminé says, her crayon drawing loops on the page, though Terra cannot see what it is. 

“It already feels like I’m dreaming,” Terra says, watching the ceiling ebb and flow with running lights from the computer monitors behind him. Ever since he stepped in here, it’s felt like he lived a lifetime away from home. No start, no ending, moving pictures that he loses as soon as he blinks. Nothing stays, like waking up and forgetting a whole night. 

“I have to warn you,” Naminé says, her voice quieter, “I may have to unchain the memories you want linked together if it gets too hard for you.”

And there, in the midst of wondering if he’s ever going to get this right, he thinks of a white door he’s never seen before. 

[elichorph]

𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗞 𝟬𝟬𝟮 ( 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬 ) ↝ 𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗝𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

pov: your name is avery jeong and you are being kicked out of your house and family at age 18 because your sister snitched about some drunk mistake you made 2 years ago 

as of right now, avery has no relationship with his parents and a minimal relationship with his sister, lilia. however, avery was always treated as the baby of the family. he was set to take over the drug ring when he got older and was given minimal information about it to shelter and protect him from anything that could potentially make his views on the family’s business turn sour. despite this, avery really had no plans to actually take over the business and was going to hand over the position to lilia once she became old enough even though he didn’t tell anyone about this. before avery got the chance to step up, lilia told their parents about how he had broken one of the main family rules by telling someone he’d just met at a party about what the jeong family really did behind the big pharm cover. their parents were absolutely livid and forced avery to move out and denounced him from the family.

refer to liza’s task for more family info idk we really just hate these parents so bad

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦

𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 ↝ iris jeong

our least favorite capricorn sun gemini moon out there! god this woman is the worst! song seonmi fc, this woman is LETHAL. iris’ side of the family were the ones who started the drug ring so miss thing was seriously into it. it was her life, she grew up with it, and she took it so seriously that anyone could tell. she had extremely high expectations for avery to take over too and had originally planned to school him on family law and how the business worked as soon as he could walk, but eventually ended up babying him when it came to preparing to the position thank to her arranged husband’s influence. iris kind of let avery do his own thing growing up, made sure he was on top of his grades and was the one who suggested that he go to a specialized school just to make sure that he was reaching his top brainiac potential to be smart enough to run the show. the little that avery knew about the drug ring came from iris too, but she would always here comes the choo choo train it into his brain so it wasn’t too much for him to take. she knew her son was smart and fit to take over, but she feared him not being able to do so which was frankly her own fault. honestly receiving any sort of care from iris is out of character she literally is scary as hell. their relationship? really didn’t have one. i guarantee if you asked either of them at any point in time to name one personal fact about the other, they wouldn’t be able to come up with one. they just worked as mom and son, stood respectfully at a yard’s distance and only interacted when they needed to for the sake of the family. however, they Really interacted after lilia snitched on avery. iris was the one who came up with the idea to kick avery out and was so assured in her idea that she didn’t rest until he was out of the house and never came back that night. even though they have had no contact in the five years since avery was forced to leave, iris continues to blame every single family issues that arises on avery even if he has nothing to do with it. avery holds so much resentment for iris that it frankly makes him sick!!!!!!!!! and while he might be able to forgive lilia and his father, iris will never be on the docket. 

𝗙𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 ↝ tobias jeong

tobs ... the tobster ... aqua sun cancer moon brain rot. this man fixed up an old jeep and made it his entire personality. ya’ll ever had one of those science teachers that couldn’t spell and always lost their glasses when they were really on their head? yeah that’s him. also a certified doormat. and maybe a kim joohun fc but like give him more bill nye wannabe looking vibes. avery and his father had a good relationship for the most part. tobias was really chill, understood maybe 1/3 of what happened in the family. he tried to stand up for avery and lilia in certain situations and understood that iris was absolute trash (even he didn’t truly want to marry her, it was more business between their families than anything), but he was so compliant that he never actually made an impact. however, tobias was the one that truly made avery’s childhood ... good. he’d pick up avery from school in that old jeep he fixed up, play some classic dad music, and drive around for a while so they didn’t have to go see iris so soon. the night avery got kicked out, tobias was the one that actually stuck up for avery. even though it was one simple statement that maybe avery should stay, it was the only time anyone stood up for avery that night. of course, tobias was quickly shut down by iris and he didn’t try to have avery stay after that however he probably feels so much regret for not doing more that night. avery truly was so angry that tobias didn’t try to do more to get him to stay, but like it’s whatever! what the fuck was tobias supposed to do! a few months after avery was kicked out, he actually called his dad at a super low point ( see this gif set ) but even then tobias wasn’t willing to fight for avery to try to come back even after hearing at how he had nothing and didn’t know what to do. avery never truly hated his dad, but he now resents him for not trying when there is so much more he could have done.

𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 ↝ lilia jeong

if there was one member of the jeong family that avery truly loved, it was lilia. avery loved being her big brother. he cared for her more than anybody in his life and truly thought she was capable of so many good things which is why he never had any intentions to take over the drug ring. avery had always wanted that position to go to her because he believed that lilia was the right one to take it because she easily could have done so much better than he could’ve. growing up, avery wasn’t that much of an open book as he is now. if he had a secret though, lilia was the first one to know. he basically told her everything, from explaining some project he’d been working while they walked through an apple orchard or the biggest mistake he’d made in his life which was spilling the family secret. the last thing he was expecting was for lilia to tell their family about that, especially after so long and in a manner that seemed almost self serving after she promised to keep it a secret. even though lilia's decision to snitch literally turned his life upside down and really fucked him over, he’s never been able to see lilia as anything besides his sister. sure, he’s felt true betrayal and never thought he would get screwed over like that, but avery is always one for second or third or fourth or fifth chances even in situations like this. no matter how hard avery wanted to convince himself that he didn’t want lilia in his life, he was never able to do it. lilia always stayed his emergency contact even when they weren’t speaking and no matter how many new people avery met that were closer to new haven hospitals. 

for now though, their shit is tbd! avery is too afraid to talk to lilia about everything because bringing up the past pains him and he’s also unsure of how things will work out. also, he’s most likely expecting an apology first and foremost. everyone knows they’re siblings, but the reason why they’re not close are all lies. they tell everyone that they grew apart and lilia began to tell others that avery fucked up a business deal and made the choice to leave the family which avery goes along with simply because he assumes it’s what lilia wants. sometimes he wished that they actually had just grown apart rather than having to experience all the shit that happened.

even if avery knows he’s already willing to give lilia another chance, he wants an apology and he knows he’s deserving of that at the very least. until then, you can catch avery gazing longingly into the windows of music shops at acoustic guitars that resemble the one he would always play on for lilia and had to leave behind after being kicked out. those same few songs are always stuck in his head. avery hasn’t been able to eat ripe peaches anymore because the taste reminds him of sticky handed food fights and hiding one in their parents’ closet to rot. one time he went on a date with a girl whose favorite band was the moldy peaches and he promptly left to throw up in the bathroom. every time he would enter the underground fighting ring he would try not to lose because that meant lilia might have to get the call that he wasn’t alright even though he wanted her to know if anything happened to him. 

[ishidasado]

Why is everyone such insensitive North haters?

This is something I’ve been wanting to talk about for some time now. Within the Detroit fanbase there is an overwhelming number of “North haters”. These people say North is “Violent for the sake of violence”, or that she “loves killing far too much”. They say she doesn’t have character development and that she isn’t justified in her hatred for humans. This is what leads many fans to the idea that David Cage (director of Detroit) is a “hack” or “failed to represent the LGBT community”, by excluding Simon as a potential lover for Markus, instead of North. .I’m here to prove all of this WRONG and set the record straight for David Cage.

Point one: “North is violent for no reason and she loves killing far too much.”

Counterpoint: Nope. She has a backstory that isn’t too easily missed unless you decide to be a total jerk to her. While thinking alone on the rooftops in the very start of the “Freedom March” chapter, Markus has time to reflect on Jericho and his choices leading up to this moment. He’s later joined by North, who also comes to this spot to think. The two start a conversation and you have a choice to ask her about her past, as she had previously asked you about yours. Upon asking her, she is too ashamed to admit what she had faced (which should signal to the player that she is dealing with some emotional and/or mental trauma)  If you insist she tell you more about herself, she replies with the following “I was nothing. Just a doll in a distributor program meant to satisfy humans.” This implies that she was a “sex doll”, as Markus later remarks that he “saw her memories” and that they took place in “the Eden Club”. 

Dear, everyone who truly believes that North isn’t justified in her “need for violence” and “hatred of humans”, Do something for me and “close your eyes” (as Carl would say) Close your eyes and imagine that you’ve been in a drugged-state of low awareness since your birth. Ok, now, imagine one day you “wake up” and come to full awareness. You realize that you’ve been kept in a vending machine your whole life in nothing but your underwear so sleazy men could “rent you” for a couple of hours and have their way with you, nothing being off limits. They’ve been raping you and brutally abusing you for their amusement. They’ve been exposing themselves to you and forcing you to play the sickest, and dirtiest sex games in existence. In the moment you “wake up” there is a man on top of you saying disturbing and sick things about your body. These are the ONLY people you’ve EVER encountered. I know it’s hard to imagine this, because it’s so traumatizing, but this is exactly what happened to North. She then killed the man in self defense, then ran away from the sex-club/prison that’s been renting her out to the worst of humanity (again the ONLY humans she has EVER known) 

Why on Earth do you think the Tracies turned out bitter and resentful? They were in the EXACT same situation as North, yet I see no hate for them. Also, before you say “yeah but the Tracies didn’t automatically call for war, it’s ok to be mad, but North takes it to far”, I have a counterpoint for that too. North actually didn’t automatically call for war. She stayed at Jericho for a few weeks without bringing it up. It was only when Markus proposed “stealing from the humans”, that she jumped on board. I HIGHLY doubt that if the Tracies would have had influence over Markus, that they would be any kinder to the humans than North was. 

North doesn’t “love” violence or war. She is a survivor of life-long sexual assault with clear PTSD and trauma symptoms, and that makes her “feel safe” in lashing out at the people who put her in that position. I highly recommend all “North haters” to research this topic, as there are many extreme emotional and physiological side effects that align with what North is experiencing. Among them is “feelings of Shame, anger, and violent behavior”

Point two: North had no character development and is unjustified in her hatred for humans.

Counterpoint: Alright, we already covered the obvious reasons why she is completely justified in her hatred for humans, as she had only ever know them to be “sex abuse machines”. What I want to talk about now, is her character development. She indeed did have character development. 

When you first meet her, she starts out cold and aloof, barely wanting to talk to Markus and telling him “If you’re looking for comfort you’ve come to the wrong place”. Slowly, over the course of the game she shifts her tone, later looking into his eyes and saying “whatever happens next, we’ve already made the history books” in an effort to comfort him when he is doubting himself and the android movement. She repeatedly attempts to comfort him, saying things like “Take care of yourself, I don’t want to loose you”, and “Your the hope of our people, we trust you.” She slowly opens up to Markus and even begins to understand that his “peaceful approach” isn’t as careless as the trauma of her past would have her believe. Also notice, that the last chance she has to sway Markus onto her “violent path” she finally provides a reason, for her otherwise, seemingly random need for violence. When she presents the “dirty bomb” to Markus she tells him that she feels it would be their “last chance if things go wrong”. Up until this point, she had NEVER reserved violence as a “last resort” for if things go wrong. She had accepted that a peaceful protest was the way that Markus had chosen for his people and that it was the right thing to do. She even planned on participating, having no real problem with the decision apart from her lingering worry that “things might go wrong”. She had a lot of character development, but haters refuse to see it. 

On the other hand, Josh never changed or developed, but no one complains about him. He starts of screaming at Markus to “use dialogue not violence” and he ends saying “you and I haven’t always agreed but if it wasn’t for you I’d be dead, I’m with you” even if you did everything he told you to throughout the game, he continues to believe that Markus is “unlike him” and even continues to blame Markus for ever trying to free his people. He continues to act righteous and “holier than thou” until the very end. He couldn’t just thank Markus, he had to add that extra layer of  “you haven’t always been as righteous as me”. Even in the event that Josh dies on the battlefield, he scolds Markus with his dying breath, saying “The blood we spill will be on our hands”. Additionally, Josh also badmouths Markus after he sacrifices himself in the PEACEFUL protest, saying things like “He’s the one that got us into this mess” and “He put us all in danger by provoking humans”, as Simon fights to defend Markus. Lastly, I’d like to mention that Josh was also the first to mention using violence as a means to an end, in the beginning. When Markus suggests they steal from Cyberlife, Josh quickly says “but we don’t have any weapons. And even if we did, none of us knows how to fight.” Markus was the one who had to tell Josh, that they could do it without violence. Josh remained a hypocrite while North grew in understanding (even if she couldn’t shake off her fears).   

The bottom line fact is that North was written well and Josh was not. North changed and evolved throughout the story, and Josh did not. (Not hating on Josh, just comparing the character development to make a point. Josh has none, yet people complain that North doesn’t when she CLEARLY does)

Point three: David cage is a hack and doesn’t represent the LGBTQ community correctly because Simon couldn’t be a lover choice for Markus. 

Ok, we are going to have to talk about how this mindset negatively (and unfairly) effects perception of both North and David Cage. Because David Cage didn’t present the option to acquire Simon as a lover, despite the enormous sense of admiration and love that Simon has for him, fans tend to believe that Cage is a “homophobe” or a “hack”, and this in turn, leads them to resent and hate North because of her position as “The one David Cage chose for Markus”. These fans believe that Cage chose North because she is a famale, but another look at the broader spectrum of this decision tells a very different story.

While sifting through a Reddit post by David Cage and his team, where they were hosting a Q&A, I found a question that pertains to my argument. The First question asked on the page was “Why is North exclusively romance-able despite Markus having equal moments/more moments of chemistry with other characters?”.  His answer is one that should put this subject to rest, and clarify/justify his reasoning for “Cutting Simon as a lover”. In response to this question, this is what he wrote.

He clearly states that there were considerations for Markus to be able to have other love interests aside from North, but that the idea had to be scrapped due to the sheer manageability of the dialogue and story paths, the branches he refers to as “permutations”. I hear all of the North haters making the argument “Why didn’t they pick Simon, if they could only have one?” I imagine that these haters think that North was privileged because she was a female, and that is why everyone is saying that David Cage is “homophobic” and a “hack”. 

I’ve heard arguments that say that the excuse he gave in this response was “weak at best, because the game already has so many branching paths” Please think about this reaction to Cage’s response. Adding more to deal with would, conceivably be more difficult to work with. Everyone who worked with Cage on Detroit has expressed their amazement at the fact that he was able to keep everything that made it into the game fluid, and sensible. If it’s a miracle he’s able to keep so many event’s and branching events aligned in his head and on paper, then why on Earth does anyone find that handling another ENTIRE lover’s relationship would be easy? 

Now that we’ve explained why it’s insane to believe that adding branches to an already huge choice game wouldn’t make the development a lot more difficult, lets take a step back and try to asses this decision. We will assume that North, Josh, and Simon were all candidates to be a love interest for Markus. Which would make the most sense to prioritize from the story’s standpoint while keeping in mind that the “lovers relationship was not the main story in this game? The first one we can rule out is Josh, because he is meant to serve as the “angel on Markus’ shoulder” and would serve as a terrible motivation to urge or tempt the player into doing something against their moral compass, as the point of the game is to create hard decisions for the player to be confronted with, and I believe that this was the main purpose of the lover as well. It creates a decision that the player has to make between love and what they believe is right, which is a difficult one to make. Besides the fact that he wouldn’t help with the tone this game was going for, Josh would also be a bad choice because he doesn’t need his backstory told for us to like him. He doesn’t need justified in wanting Markus to take the peaceful approach because most people will agree that peace isn’t a bad thing. 

Now the decision comes down to North vs. Simon. As I previously stated, the entire point of having a lover for Markus was to have that internal struggle, someone pulling you one way, when you know another way is best. Simon is neutral in all the decision making, which is something the North haters site as a reason he should be the lover instead of North. However, taking into account, the context of what this game was meant to be and what it was meant to make you feel, you realize that it is, in fact, North that would be best suited for the role of “lover”. Because Simon is neutral, he wouldn’t present the same type of pull, or persuasive temptation that Cage wanted for this game, effectively making the decision process that much easier. North, on the other hand had the perfect motives to sway you as a lover. She was a legitimately broken soul who wanted nothing but to see the humans suffer for what they had done to her, because it was the only path she knew. Markus falling for her would create the tough decision that had to be made between what she wanted and what was good for his people. While it’s true that Simon could stand to have his background explained, it is North who desperately needed hers to come to light, otherwise, she wouldn’t be likable and would be viewed as a “violence for the sake of violence” type of person (which is extremely ironic because people were to illiterate to read her motives and condition, thus I must type this whole article)

So we have come to the conclusion that Josh wouldn’t work because he is in compliance with what is “right” and wouldn’t have a moral tug at your heart strings, along with the fact that he is likable as he is, due to his peaceful nature (even if he does enforce it with tons of frowns and yelling) We’ve understood that Simon wouldn’t be enough to push you either way, making the whole point of incorporating a “lover” moot. Finally, We’ve arrived at the same decision that David Cage made. That is, North is the best candidate because she is the only one with a personality that needs to be justified, a backstory that needs to be told for us to care for her, and a perfect amount of pressure on you to choose the path you know is wrong for the sake of love.

North wasn’t unjustified for hating humans or for her PTSD induced violence tendencies. She wasn’t prioritized by Cage because she is a “female” and he is a “homophobe”. She is a well written character and was the best choice, from a story standpoint, to write as a lover to Markus.

If you still want to call David Cage a “homophobe” or a “hack”, or say he doesn’t do the LGBTQ justice because of the Tracies, that is a whole different subject that I will cover later, so stay tuned.

(BTW If you really are longing for a legit gay couple in this game, you don’t have to look any further than HankCon. They never go beyond friends *probably due to all those extra branching paths Cage wanted to avoid and the complication of their relationship* but they do make googly eyes at each other *especially Connor to Hank* and they literally bring each other to life. But more on that later.)

*PS: If you dismiss HankCon solely because of their age appearance gap (because androids are ageless) or because Hank’s appearance doesn’t suit your “sexy” needs, you are sick and I don’t want to talk to you :)        

[heartfeltheart]

N3H: Chapter 3

Fandom: My Hero Academia Rating: T Relationships: A lot…. a lot. Main Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki and Hitoshi Shinso. Warning: Good father Enji Todoroki, Shitty Father Hisashi Midoriya, Implied/Reference of drug use, implied/reference child abuse, Summary: Number3Hero!Au, in this Alternate Universe Izuku grew up with his father, Hisashi Midoriya, being Japan’s Number Three Hero. Izuku hates it. Growing resentment as the hero mistreated him as time goes by. Hisashi never liked his first son after he had divorced Inko. More so after finding out that Izuku is quirkless…. got accepted into U.A. and becoming the Number One Hero’s protégé. Izuku grew to become someone his shitty father never thought he’d be… a hero.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828801/chapters/54559486

Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of... stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb BNHA-N3H(This au discord.): https://discord.gg/D4aJzzE

“I… I think Izuku is quirkless.”

Rei, Enji, Mitsuki and Masaru glanced at each other, as they took in Inko’s words. She has called them that she needed their advice on something that has been on her mind. Warning bells started to go off in all their heads at the reason she needed advice.

Hisashi Midoriya had made an appointment with a doctor. To confirm whether or not Izuku has a quirk. None of them are surprised really. They knew at the age of eight was the caught off to see if a child has a quirk or quirkless.

Well… that would be the norm, but that was put into question on the age limit. All things considering there, Rei and Enji had taken Toya to check his pinky toes under his own request. It was indeed found out that Toya had the typical feature of someone that is quirkless, the two joints in the pinky toe. Toya waited eight years to see if he’ll ever get a quirk, spent two years believing he’s quirkless and then finding out he does indeed have a quirk that is completely incompatible with his body. The only thing they could do now is train him as much as they could and using the right support items.

“Does Izuku know about it?” Masaru asked worriedly.

“He does and he’s terrified. Not so much on whether he has a quirk, it’s his father’s reaction that has us worried.”

---

Hitoshi could only feel terror run through himself as he used his quirk against his parents. He had just forced his parent’s dealer to believe his parents paid off their debt for this month. Right when the two were going to put that horrid muzzle back on him. He asked them a question, in anger, they responded.

That’s all it took for the eight-year-old to quickly get out of the rundown apartment. Hitoshi doesn’t know where he is running to, all he knows is that he needs to get away. The fear of getting caught by them and the very possible beating has him keep running.

---

Izuku did his best to swallow down his nerves as he sat in between his parents in the waiting room. Today, he’s going to figure out is he has one or two joins in his pinky toes. He already knows what the doc is going to say to him. He’s quirkless.

His dad calls him quirkless.

His stepmom calls him quirkless.

His brothers, Ichirou and Kichirou, call him quirkless.

It wouldn’t be so farfetched if he is indeed… quirkless. A deku in their eyes. He knows that his mom believes he’s quirkless too but is more worried about his own reaction to the news. Right now, it’s just a confirmation to something he wants to avoid all together. Does he want to be quirkless? No. He wants to become a hero! A better hero than… him.

“Why don’t you go play?” Inko motioned over at the empty play area.

Izuku didn’t hesitate for a moment to go over to the play area while they waited for his turn to see the doctor. So much tension in the room and he hopes that will go away soon.

“Izuchan!”

“Huh?” Izuku turned to suddenly see Katsuki running up to him. He smiled widely at the sight of his best friend. “Why are you doing here?”

Katsuki shrugged, before motioning over to his parents. Izuku looked over just in time to see Auntie Mitsuki glaring at his father before sitting next to now visibly relaxed mom. Uncle Masaru only spared a glance at his former high school classmate before sitting down next to his own wife. It seems for the most part, the tension did go down a bit, but it’s still there.

“His teacher started to take notice that he might need reading glasses.” Mitsuki explained to Inko, seeing her friend’s concerned expression. “How are you holding up?”

Inko couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh. Stress. Just so much stress that it took a toll on her entire appearance. “Stressed. Stressed beyond measure for Izuku.”

---

“I’m home!” Fuyumi called out as she stepped foot into her home. She took off the hat that’s part of her Shiketsu High School uniform with an audible sigh. A long day at school and training, the only thing she wants is ice cream and to watch her soap operas. Walking into her home, she took note of all the pictures hung all over the walls of the entry way. One picture in particular caught her interest.

It’s a picture of the day that Toya got out of the hospital, everyone was there for that day. It has been around a year since Toya came back home, and so much has changed since then. It was during that time; she made a choice. That she’s going to become a hero, no matter what. Her brothers quickly followed suit once they caught wind of her plans. All with plans on becoming heroes. This resulted with her joining Shiketsu and Toya has just recently took the entrance exam to Ketsubutsu. Natsuo and Shoto are training with their parents to get ready. Fuyumi couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

A superhero family of fire and ice.

Fuyumi chuckled to herself at the thought.

“Mom and dad are patrolling today.”

Fuyumi looked around in confusion as she didn’t see anyone around her.

“Down here.”

Fuyumi slowly looked down to see Toya laying on the ground, face down. “Toya…? You okay? Do you need help?”

“I’m the villain, Shoto is the hero and he’s hunting down Natsuo.” Toya answered. “You might want to go hide before he starts looking for you.”

“Right…”

“GET BACK HERE, NATSUO!” Shoto’s yelled out from the other side of the home.

“NEVER!” Natsuo yelled back, before he let out a loud crackle.

Fuyumi let out another sigh. “I’m going to make sure Shoto doesn’t burn Natsuo’s hair off…. Again.”

---

Izuku shook uncontrollably, holding for dear life to his mom as his parents yelled at each other. He just got the news that many grew to dread in today’s age. Quirkless. He’s quirkless and there was nothing he could do about it. That… that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part is seeing his father in complete rage. It got so bad that the nurse had ran out in terror and the doctor is in the corner of the room, phone in hand.

Pathetic!

Useless!

What’s wrong with you?

You’ll never amount to anything!

You’ll never be any different!

Stop crying, this instant!

Izuku couldn’t stop crying, if anything, his wails grew louder. If he was back in his father’s home, he would have been dragged over to his room and left there to cry. Right now, he has no place to run and hide from the man. His mom is doing his best to defend him, but he could tell she’s reaching her tipping point.

I’m pathetic!

I’m useless!

I’m sorry!

Please stop yelling at me!

It’s not my fault!

Please!!!

“You are no son of mine, Deku.” Hisashi backed out down to his so… no, he no longer considers Izuku his blood. Nothing more than a pawn to use against the brat’s mother. “Why do I even bother with you anymore? I should have cleaned my hands of you from the beginning.”

The sound of the door being slammed shut caused the blistering tirade temporarily stilled. Everyone turned to see Masaru Bakugo has entered the room and had slammed the door behind himself.

“Are you done?” Masaru remarked in a low tone. One could sense the tension and anger that seems to roll off himself.

“This doesn’t concern you, Bakugo.” Hisashi growled out, turning around completely to face his old school friend.

“You disowning your son because he’s quirkless, doesn’t concern him? You verbally attacking him and Inko, doesn’t concern me? Saying all those horrid things to them… is none of my concern? It is my concern!” Masaru snapped, there were some sparks started to go off from the palms of his hands.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Hisashi sneered, he crossed his arms over his chest, not even worried. ‘Far as we all know, you can’t do shit against me.”

“Oh… can’t I?” Masaru’s chuckle made Hisashi take pause. “I have connections everywhere, Midoriya. From heroes, news stations, and everyone you hate dealing with. Don’t forget… Izuku is my and Rei’s godchild. Like hell she or Enji are going to let this slide. Neither would I and Mitsuki. One more word, I will ruin you… it wouldn’t be all that hard. Who would they believe… me or you?”

---

Katsuki kept a tight grip on his best friend as his old man drove them all to his home. All he knows is that Auntie Inko and Izuchan are going to be staying at his home for the night and that Izuchan’s bastard of a father called his best-friend quirkless.

Katsuki knew the word held a great distaste to many. He had heard the world mix around multiple times and had witnessed so much discrimination against those without a quirk. His parent’s support company employ people who are quirkless, and he had watched other employees harass them. Along with witnessing said people on longer working at Ground Zero after his parents found out about said fucking behavior.

His best friend is quirkless. Katsuki just witnessed best friend being yelled and cursed at for something he has no control over. He wanted to scream, yell, plead to help Izuchan when he overheard the bastard father yell all those…things to Izuchan when they walked by the room and getting a full blast of it when a nurse ran out of the room. Mitsuki had to drag her son away, for his father to take care of everything.

Katsuki doesn’t know what his old man said to the bastard, but it was enough for Auntie Inko to talk about blackmail, full custody, and some other crap to keep Izuchan away from the shitty bastard. Good.

---

Of course, they couldn’t let him go…

Hitoshi tried to do his best to get the dealer’s hand off his neck. Just one week out in the streets, and he got found by one of his blasted parent’s dealers. One of which he had used his quirk against to forget about a debt. The sight of a knife caused Hitoshi to panic and is now frantically doing anything to get away.

“Hey! What do you call a group of unorganized cats? A cat-astrophe! Get it, Eraser?”

Hitoshi’s eyes widen when he suddenly saw cloth being wrapped around the man’s arm, yanking it away from him. The dealer dropped him when he was flung away due to the cloth. Awe fell over the eight-year-old at the sight of Eraserhead and Ms. Joke take on the lowlife.

In all the times Hitoshi had witnessed the two heroes on the news, daydreaming these two will save him from his parents. From that life, a life of villainy.

Tag List Below:

Tag list below:

Permanent Tag List: @runestarchild​​ @princesskitomi​​ @fanfictionpromptsblog​​ @souleateralicestein​​ @vixen-uchiha​​ @okami-knight​​ @legendaryneckjudgestudent​​ @weird-homosapien​​ @justafanwarrior​​ @vivilakitty​​ @ravennightingaleandavatempus​​ @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie​​ @moonwatcher04​​ @darkshadowguardian​​ @two-faced-biatch​​ @kris-pines04​​​

N3H Tag List: @mewwitch​​​ @edwardhatori​​​ @kuroko26​​​ @tall-and-angry​​​   @bloody-no-kissu​​​

[lowkeyhockey]

kiss me once (you know i had a long night) - freddie andersen

Prompt: Do you have any idea who you just pissed off?

Pairing: Freddie Andersen/Single Mother!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activity

Word Count: 1.9k

Writer’s Notes: Shoutout to my first fic! It’s a oneshot that’s going to be part of a bigger verse titled Can I Go (Where You Go) featuring [Y/N], a single mother, Lila, your five year old daughter, and Freddie Andersen - a man very happy to be dragged along for the ride. Each oneshot fic can be read as a standalone, and the fics won’t have the same rating/warnings, so make sure you check! Thanks so much for reading, and please hmu if you have a prompt/request/critique!

Summary: Someone went to bed a little angry, someone’s utterly exhausted, and someone (probably) needs a cold shower. But hey, we all have our problems 8D

"Do you have any idea who you just pissed off?" 

 Even his famous goalie reflexes couldn't save him from the dinosaur stuffie you threw at his face - and if you were thinking more rationally you'd realise that he'd let you play target practice to let your frustrations out, but you weren't, so you didn't. Still, you couldn't help the slight smile that grew (despite your best efforts) on your face just from watching the bear slowly slide down, its wide, pearly white grin replaced by Freddie's furrowed brow like a real life slide transition.

 But then, seeing Freddie's face usually made you smile. It was kind of a hazard of the job. Maybe someone stronger, someone more used to seeing the kind of gentle concern Freddie currently had in his eyes, might have been better equipped against his face, especially considering the year and a half you'd been together. 

 Someone else might have built up an immunity, or allowed familiarity to breed contempt. But for you, both scenarios were impossible things - more science fiction than possibility - and your poor daughter was suffering for it. 

 Of course, what you called suffering someone else might consider sleeping in her bed, all five years and two hours of her completely turned off from the world, pudgy little arms wrapped around a Carlton the Bear bear Freddie had gotten for her before he'd gone on his roadie. 

 The fact that Carlton had replaced Barney - your birthday present for Lila from last year - in her bed had nothing to do with your using Barney as a makeshift weapon. Nope. You were just doing what every single single mother quickly learned to do - that was, use every single tool in her arsenal to get the job done. 

 Poor Freddie had had to be reminded of it the hard way, the reminder coming barely seconds after he himself had walked through the front door, as quiet about it as thief - or a dad coming home at two am, long after he'd promised his little girl he'd be home. 

 He caught Barney with both hands before the stuffie could hit the ground, left his luggage bag by the door as he walked to you, holding the toy out like a peace offering. God, but he looked gorgeous this way - red hair tousled like he'd ran his hands through it out of frustration a time or ten, those large hands of his dwarfing the toy, his game day suit rumpled in a way that begged you to go and take it off for him. You'd be doing both of you, not to mention the suit, a favour, really. 

More than one suit’s been found with a button missing after Freddie’s had to undress himself, with you waiting for him in your shared bed.

 Freddie in a suit was a sight meant to set your heart racing. Freddie freshly out of a suit - even the idea of it  should probably have sent you into cardiac arrest by now. The fact that you were still standing, still giving him that tired half-smile masquerading as a frown, was probably something of a medical miracle. 

 But then, since meeting Freddie, you'd never managed to forget exactly how lucky you are. 

Lila wasn't allowed to leave her toys lying around and Freddie usually kept to the rule too, and this time he dropped Barney into the toy bin against the wall before he filled his arms with you instead - holding on so tight that you could imagine, for a few seconds, that he was never going to let go. It was nice to dream that he wouldn't, to relax against his solid warmth, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. 

 You couldnt hug him back - his arms were too tight around you, held you too close, and you wanted to tease him about the way he seemed to deliberately keep you from grabbing onto any more weapons - but you couldn't do that, either. 

 Not when he leaned down to brush his lips against your hair, then your temple, then the high point of your cheekbone, sliding down your jaw as though dying for a taste of each last inch of you. He'd pulled far enough away from you by then for you to rest a palm against his chest, huffing out his name and - again - trying to sound more annoyed than amused and - again - failing, and the next time his lips landed against your skin you could feel the way they were twisted into a smile. 

 Solid, stoic Freddie Andersen could barely kiss his girl without breaking out into a grin - you grinned yourself then to feel it, to imagine the way his boys would (and have) hoot in laughter to see it, and that was maybe the signal Freddie needed - the next time his lips landed on you, they landed squarely against your own, his tongue brushing against your lower lip until you relented and allowed him to kiss you more deeply. 

 Allowed him to make you lose your mind, in other words, stealing your breath and making you forget you had a kindergartner in the room right off your living room, the soft glide of his tongue against yours making you wish for his tongue to slide - just as smooth - elsewhere. He knew all of your favourite spots. 

Freddie was the one to pull away, thumb brushing at your lips until you realised you were pouting up at him. Though whether that was because of his late arrival, or Carlton, or the fact that he'd stopped kissing you was up for debate. Come to think of it, there was a lot he needed to make up to you for. 

 "You?" he asked, voice coming out sleep-rough, the one word coming out as half-an exhalation against your lips - making you wish, again, that he was kissing you, would keep kissing you, would let you kiss him all over. 

 But then, communication was - you've been told - a healthy part of any relationship.  

 And his still-furrowed brow look was filled with enough hope to make you laugh aloud, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. "You wish you'd pissed me off," you shoot back, tilting your head to Lila's bedroom door. "She knew you weren't going to make it to her birthday. She's fine with that. But we both hoped you'd be back in time to tuck her in. That was her last night as a five year old." 

 "Okay, but she's been telling everyone she's six for five months now."

 You laugh again, this time at the attack on your daughter - what a mother you are. But Freddie was smiling too, the crease in his brow fading away at the sound of your laughter, so maybe it was okay. By this point, Freddie was almost as much of a parent as you are - god knows he's read more books on the subject than you ever did. 

 "You believed her," you pointed out, curling the fingers of the hand you still had against his chest - a tool at your disposal, ready for use - and pulling him down until you could kiss him again. He allowed you three brief pecks, each time teasing, chuckled low in his chest when you let out a frustrated groan. 

 "Greedy," he chided, and you were just about to tell him exactly how greedy he makes you feel when he tilts his head to Lila's door, looking - again - like someone had had to put down a dog, and it was somehow his fault. 

 Freddie tended to take the whole world onto his shoulders - he did it with his team, he did it with his friends, and he did it with your family - the family he insisted to the world was his, with every little thing he ever did. 

 Like take Lila to family skate, patiently teaching her how to take baby steps and how to get up each time she fell, until she was racing across the ice (while you watched from the entrance to the ice, heart in your throat) by the end of the day. Like stay with you through your last, short stay at the hospital, only leaving to check on Lila at her grandparents' and bring you back illicit treats and fresh clothes. Like book his own seat, in a commercial flight, because the team plane wasn't heading back to Toronto until the day after Lila's birthday.

Was it his faul the plane had been delayed? No. But Lila had been upset that he hadn't gotten back in time for a bedtime story, and Freddie had been upset because he'd planned on surprising Lils at her birthday party, and you'd been upset because 

a) the two people you loved most in the world were unhappy, and

b) you missed him. 

 So when you murmured "five days is way too long for you to be gone," he understood, and believed you, pulling you closer into the curve of his body again. You didn't mean - you never meant - to sound as though you resented his schedule; what mattered was that he came back, and he always did. 

 "She'll probably forgive you when you surprise her with pancakes in bed tomorrow," you told him, and he makes a soft humming sound as though considering it - as though he wasn't already on planning on that, and to use his free day tomorrow to take Lila wherever she wanted - like the zoo. Or an art museum. Or a build-a-bear workshop. See how Carlton likes getting replaced. 

 It was maybe a little mean to talk Freddie into getting out of bed before Lila, who was, in her tiny, infernal heart of hearts the worst kind of morning person, but you knew by then that if Freddie didn't have some kind of way to make amends he'd do more and more ridiculous things out of guilt. That was how Lila had ended up with her own personal bouncy castle last summer - and the castle's still standing, in a room at Freddie's house he's not going to get back until Lila hits middle school at least.

 The smile he gives you, eyes all wrinkled in the corners, is enough to make you feel like a superhero and a Disney villain in one. 

 "Pancakes for the little princess, and for my princess?" he asked, and no matter how many times he's called you that you still blush, just a little, just enough for him to unwind one arm around you to chase the colour with his thumb. 

 "We don't have time for a scene tonight, but maybe tomorrow, hm? I'll get Lila nice and sugared first, then work that energy off at the park or something, and then we'll foist her off onto your parents." 

 You nod then, then, tilt your head back for one last kiss, and this time he gives it to you. The next kiss, he presses against your forehead before he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. The last one, before you fall asleep, you feel pressed into your hand as he brings it up to his lips, the murmured "I love you" he said to you in Danish understandable only because he's said it so many times. 

 Unlike your poor little daughter, you fall asleep content. 

[overheart]

---------------------  you are so pure,  &  it has nothing to do with your eyes or your smile, everything to do with your heart, all torn  &  weathered on your shirt for the entire world to see,  (  so they can  t e a r  it up some more  ).  you are so GOLDEN,  &  i hear that you don't know how good you are  --  oh my, you are so good  --  because you cry when you get home most days,  &  you can't lift your body from the ground. is your body heavy from the people who have walked all over it ??   why did no one help you ??   you are so kind, so kind, so kind to everyone that you forget to be kind to yourself.

( trigger warning  -- parental abandonment/neglect, addiction/substance abuse, & overdose )

            please click  HERE  for her character stats   &    HERE  for her pinterest url.

--------------------  ✱ *:･ﾟ✧   𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒊𝒓 .  

♥    richard ilaria met elizabeth belova at just fifteen years old  &  immediately knew that she was his once in a lifetime. elizabeth, however, disagreed. she came from a long lineage of wealth  &  old money. aside from this, she was also the most accomplished female in her grade  --  maintaining a perfect GPA while also captaining the cheerleading squad  &  performing 40+ hours of community service a week. short to say  --  she wasn’t the slightest bit interested. as the cliches go, she chose the football star instead whose father had invented some salad dressing that blew up in calabasas. this didn’t defer richard though  --  he decided to work ten times harder than the rest of his class so that he would get into an ivy league of his choice on a full ride. once there, school  &  grades were the only thing on his mind. valedictorian wasn’t enough for him either. he was destined for greatness. going to yale provided quite a lot of opportunities  &  connections - now he just had to discover one. luck decided to find its way to him shortly after graduation when he ran into one of his old peers in a bar. there, whilst reminiscing  &  knocking a few back, the two managed to set what would later be the foundations for text messages. this, of course, became a sensation. once richard had accumulated a mass sum of money  &  made ilaria a known name, he went back for elizabeth. the courting process was now made simple because he knew she only responded to green. the two were wed at the age of twenty-five in 1995.

♥    richard  &  elizabeth almost immediately ran into troubles after they tied the knot. due to this, it was seeming as though kids would not be an option in their cards. both struggled with infidelity, but it was a lot stronger on elizabeth’s side. elizabeth had also began to develop a dependent on alcohol  &  some other various prescriptions. however, in 1997, elizabeth began to sense a distinct difference in their atmosphere. he was going to leave her. so, she decided to take matters into her own hands: ruin all their contraceptives  &  stop taking her own birth control. months after this, when the year had hit 1998, eleanor ilaria would be born. the first of their lineage  &  the child intended to save the failing marriage of two people who were never meant to be with one another or with children. after two years came along another daughter,  this time a lot less maliciously planned, but rather for the genuine desire of another child as well as a companion for young eleanor. as eleanor seemingly had a negative connotation attached to her mere existence, elena unfortunately rose to the status of the golden girl in their household. the dynamics of their family were far from perfect, but she was.

♥    though the younger daughter, elena was almost immediately tasked with cleaning up after everyone’s catastrophes due to her extreme abilities to empathize with all those around her. her mother was too honest. when you’re young, your mother is on a pedestal  &  she’s your superhero. however, it was elena who would have to get her into bed with a glass of water after a binge drink. it was elena who would have to give her naloxone after she mixed too many pills with a bottle of wine. she became more of a mother to her mother, than she had been to her. throughout all this, her father was very absent due to “work” when in reality he could have devoted a little more time to his family. he hated elizabeth  &  the woman she grew to become. he could barely stomach being in the same room as her, & it was clear to all three of the girls. in many ways, it was almost like the girls grew up with no parents at all. but at least they had each others’ hands to hold, right ??

♥    from an early age, it was made known to elena that she was incredibly beautiful. when her mother began saying it at an early age, it was touching. but as the years grew on, resentment  &  bitterness filled the tone in her voice as she commented on her appearance. around the time puberty hit, there was a shift in the way the rest of the world treated her too. the hands of her fathers’ coworkers would slip just a little too low during a hug, or a family friends’ would rest a little too long on her thigh. at age eleven, she had her first kiss with the son of her mom’s friend. by the time she was twelve  &  a half, she had her first boyfriend. she swore she loved him, but he decided he didn’t like her soon after. many of her relationships would grow to a similar dynamic as the years went on.

♥    once fourteen rolled around, she lost her virginity to a boy she swore she loved. but again, he decided he didn’t like her much afterwards. that month her period came late  &  got one positive on a test from target that eleanor had bought for her. this time, eleanor took care of her  &  elena didn’t have the weight on her shoulders. they told their mom together, but as it turned out - it was just a false positive. her mother didn’t look at her the same after that. it was then that their mother decided she didn’t want any children in the house,  &  sent them off to marble hill preparatory. there was a twinge of hurt from their mother not wanting them as a burden when she had been a mess their entire life, but there was no denying the feeling of lessened responsibility now that they wouldn’t be stuck in that large, empty mansion. despite wanting to be nothing like their mother, she was still seeking endless approval.

♥    in many ways she flourished once in high school, finding that life had much more to offer. she found two of her strongest passions - cheerleading  &  fashion. she would subscribe to countless magazines  &  spend her spare time formulating collages of pieces she’d cut out from them. this was when she truly felt authentic  &  the world went quiet. if you’d ask eleanor - another one of her passions was boys. she swore she loved all of them, pouring herself out to each of them - but it seemed they were only really ever interested in one thing.  &  they all really liked the way that she looked. men dictated the way that her life ran to a degree. her father had always been absent  &  she was left to crave the attention of a man. still, her grades were average  &  she was social  &  sweet to all. but she never felt as though she was worth very much  --  aside from sex. their fleeting attention was better than nothing at all.

♥    when she was sixteen, there was one day that eleanor hadn’t been answering any of her texts  --  or anyone elses. the behavior was unlike her,  &  call it sister intuition - but she knew that something was morbidly wrong. she went to her dorm room  &  there her sister lay  -  unconscious  &  choked in a pool of her own vomit. they say that there are three responses to trauma - fight, flight, freeze. you’ll never really know which you are until you face one yourself. she stood frozen for what felt like unending hours but in reality were likely to be a few minutes before shrieking to the point that her vocal cords may have ripped. what ensued was a blur. her sisters survival was a miracle. this was the worst day of both of their lives - despite the pain  &  hurt, it brought them closer in the end ( which they didn’t know was possible ). the aftermath was both parents scolding elena for not keeping eleanor out of trouble when she knew what could happen. it didn’t matter  --  whatever occurred, they would always alter their views to blame someone else. it was a catch twenty-two.

♥    there was no fallout after,  &  things resumed almost akin to how they had previously aside from eleanor getting treated. she swore up  &  down it would never happen again - but elena had her doubts. they’d grown up watching their mom slowly deteriorate for years. where eleanor would try  &  try to fill the void with various substances, elena lived in a fantasy world where she used sex as her own means of escape. she would always be chasing that unreachable unrealistic form of love that she never had as an example growing up. where was her prince charming ??

♥    life beat on, time was unforgiving  &  the two sisters had been surrounded by tragedy. she felt as though her sister had distanced herself while also raising her arms over her in protection similar to that of a bird  &  their baby. the distance was for her safety, so she need not worry whether or not she was using  &  so she would not have to continue the pattern her sister had had with their mother. she would not follow in her footsteps. it was from that point that eleanor also resumed a more passionate role of the big sister for elena.

♥    getting accepted into hatchet university was exciting despite the lack of surprise surrounding it due to her family name  &  economic status. even if she was denied, her father would have coerced them into acceptance a la a new library. there she continued cheerleading  &  fashion - which were two of her favorite things in the entire world, but there was no denying that there was always something lacking. a piece of her missing. perhaps it was the parts of herself that she’d spent so long pouring out into others that now left her half full. 

    . . .  will happiness  &  love always be just over the horizon  --  seemingly in sight but never truly hers to own ?? 

[vagrantblvrd]

I would love for a superhero!au dusk boys prompt that features villainous Rimmy Tim? :D

Oh, wow, okay, I love this a lot?

I’m just.

I want to set this in a world where people who have superpowers aren’t viewed as being inherently dangerous.

There are obviously ones who are, but for the most part it’s just like Macy down the street can shoot lasers from her eyes and Bob in accounting can communicate with plants. Sheryl from marketing can fly and turn invisible and only uses one of those powers on a regular basis because she’s shy. (Harry in IT is just weird, but everyone knew that already.)

People with powers can tick off a box when they go in to get their driver license or ID card so if they’re  in an accident EMTs and the whatnot know to take proper precautions and suchlike, but it’s not a whole Thing, just like.

Huh, interesting.

(Because I’m saving the Angst and Drama for Other Things later on. :D)

Not everyone bothers with secret identities, but the ones who do go all out, okay? Kind of high-key hilarious for the people around them who figure it out and decide not to tell them just to hear all the ridiculous explanations why their superhero/sidekick buddy was late to work or missed a meeting or whatever else.

I like to imagine there are sitcoms/reality shows built around that too? Like. They never reveal the superhero/sidekick’s alter ego but they fuck with them so hard. And other such things because the potential? Omg, so much potential for those kind of shenanigans. (And you can always tell who has a secret identity because they’re always griping about those kind of shows and it’s just another level of hilarity.)

There are specialized school and programs to help people manage their powers even if they don’t plan on going into the superhero/sidekick career field so they don’t accidentally hurt someone. (There are programs for supervillains too.

Outreach and whatnot with the hope of winning potential villains/villains over to the good side if they’re lucky. Realistically though, they’ll settle for helping them learn to control their powers to minimize casualties and such. (A few of the more level-headed villains out there may or may not be responsible for similar programs because they stand the risk of the superheros/military/whatever coming down hard on villains as a whole if they don’t help police their own?)

ANYWAY.

Trevor’s this normal(ish) enough human in this AU, right? May or may not be a master thief out Thieving and living his best life. Gallivanting around the world where rare and valuable items just happen to go missing.

Sometimes the local authorities will bring him in for questioning and discover he has something of a spotty record. Juvenile offenses and misdemeanors. (But the thing is it’s clear it’s been…altered, and while there’s some confusion as to who is behind it, there’s no denying he’s had something to do with Serious Criminal Incidents in the past. All these clues and witness accounts and all this placing him there and yet! Nothing worse on his records than those misdemeanors.)

He’s got famous parents, you see. Big shots in the supers world and love story of the ages.

One was a hero and the other was a villain who gave up their wicked ways  for love and so on and so forth.

They were happy for a while there, had their loving family and played coy with the press when they came around asking how they made their relationship work and how did their children handle knowing about past villainous exploits and so on and so forth, and it was a bit of a circus some days, but it was good until it wasn’t.

(Isn’t that always the way?)

Trevor was young when the inevitable happened so of course he grew up on “Son, what would your parents say if they could see you now?> and oh, oh, Trevor doesn’t know, officer, what would they say? Oh right, there’s no way to know because they’re both dead, aren’t they?

Plenty of people who always said it would happen sooner or later. Just the kind of thing that happens when you got around making all those devil’s deals and turn your back on it all thinking just because you’re done with it, it’s done with you or however that goes. (Always, always a price to be paid.)

He’s had plenty of people try to console him with the fact they were together when it happened, protecting one another to the bitter end and it’s such a slap to the face because, you know, because.

The ones left behind to pick up the pieces and the whole world wanting answers to questions they were never entitled to.

Losing the only other person who could understand how Trevor felt to building anger and resentment and other ugly little things until Trevor had no choice but to leave. (No place for him there anymore, and really it was for the best, wasn’t it?)

Slipped away like a ghost in the night and it was just…easier to steal a thing here, another there to get by until he fell in with the wrong crowd. Got in over his head a bit and dragged along with the current until he got some kind of ground under his feet again. Tarnished reputation and all kinds of disappointment being heaped on him, but that was fine because there was no one left to care.

And then!

And then he realizes someone’s been looking out for him, clearing up the worst of his little mistakes – if you’re going to go bad, you do it well, and he hadn’t, so thank you for that oh, so mysterious benefactor. (Pays to befriend a hacker, doesn’t it? Especially one who’s kind enough to keep an eye on you for your own sake, God bless all the little hackers.)

He drifts along for a little while longer, gets better at his craft even though it’s not his passion, and then one day he gets a call. (Half expecting it because he’s been keeping tabs on everything (everyone) he left behind and there have been situations and incidents and a whole lot of Things in general.)

The call is pretty much what he expects, but there’s also some come home and please and I’m sorry.

He would have ignored it, because he’s a hard soul these days, you know. Tough as nails and cold and steel and all that, but he’s never gotten an apology and it makes him…curious.

So he goes home, wry little twist to his lips as he passes the statues of his parents in a prominent location. Monument to their legacy Trevor could never live up to and all these people who glance at him and frown like they feel they should know him and don’t know why.

There’s a fancy building in the heart of the city’s business district. All gleaming glass and the kind of place villains love to target for the spectacle of it all.

Trevor head there, flashes the doorman a little smile, tips his head at the guard in the lobby. Another smile and a wink for the receptionist at the main desk to get a look in return – she remembers him, and isn’t impressed because he’s been gone a long time, hasn’t he?

Still, she doesn’t stop him as he breezes past on his way to the elevator bank.

Presses the buttons in a pattern that lets it zip right on past the other floors and anyone who’d love to get on the elevator between the ground floor and the oh so glorious offices on the top floors. (Stops counting past the executive level because shhhh, secrets.)

He gets off the elevator in a narrow little hallway with all kinds of hidden cameras and security measures. Presses his hand flat against a scanner and presents his eyeball for another. Ridiculously outdated things, but it’s the presentation of it all, and then a pair of heavy doors disengage to reveal a long hallways, stark lighting and very cliché isn’t it?

Still, he continues down the hallway to another pair of doors and waits.

Little panel to the side slides open and he glances at it, then at the hidden camera he knows is aimed at him.

“Open sesame,” he says, tired of this little game, and the doors slide open.

Bit of a light show as he walks through and then -

“Trevor.”

Trevor tips his head to the side, gaze flicking over the people in the room.

The man who called him home and two others?

Around his age, give or take, and confused as to why they’re here and trying to hide it. (Fair enough, he’s had longer practice at it.)

ANYWAY.

There’s a man in a lovely little suit, all perfectly tailored and the whatnot. Looks older than Trevor remembers, but that’s what you get when you take on the task of running a multi-billion dollar business and the whatnot. (Among other things.)

“Hello, Ryan,” he says, and it has been a long time, hasn’t it? Long enough that Trevor doesn’t know if he’s still angry at Ryan or some other pesky emotion. “You like like hell.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, but it lacks the usual arrogance. (Looks tired.)

The strangers in the room are watching curiously, aware there’s some little bit of Drama going on here but not sure what, and that’s interesting, isn’t it?

But then Ryan clears his throat and turns to them, all nice and charming and the very fine actor he’s proven himself to be as he leads them all to this little setup he’s had put together. Several chairs and a projector and Trevor has this very odd flashback to school and the terrible little films they had to watch, but that’s a bit of a digression.

“Gentlemen,” Ryan says, “I’ve invited you all here for a reason.”

Trevor glances at the strangers, notices them watching Ryan warily as he flicks the lights off and the project whirs to life. (Ryan really did gold old school with it, didn’t he?)

News footage of what looks like an attack on the city – industrial area. Warehouses with a familiar logo (same one as on the side of this very building, in fact!) - general sort of mayhem and destruction and a blurry figure behind it all.

Little flashes of purple and orange and at the end a surprisingly low body count. (One is always too many, but for the destruction they’ve just seen it’s somewhat impressive.)

Ryan tells them about this new threat – clearly someone with superpowers of some sort – that’s been targeting Ryan’s company. Hit and runs and targets of opportunity, and while the police and such are looking into the things the main superhero team in the city hasn’t been taking it seriously.

Trevor looks away from the blurry image of the villain in questions till up on the screen to see Ryan frowning, scowling, really.

“That doesn’t seem right,” one of the strangers says, British accent and dubious as hell. “Didn’t people die?”

Ryan sighs, giving the man a wry smile.

“Not enough.”

Not in this city, Trevor knows.

A superhero team as famous as theirs fields the most dangerous threats to the city and those like the one targeting Ryan’s company…well. Until they do something that makes the general public wonder why he hasn’t been dealt with, he’s not really their problem, now is he?

Plenty of smaller teams and solo heroes out there who could handle someone like that and anyways, they’ve got bigger fish to fry. (It’s happened before.)

“So you’ve brought the three of us here to handle your little problem,” Trevor says, and oh, there’s still some anger in him, isn’t there?

Ryan looks at him.

“You’d rather I let things go on as they have been?” he asks. “People have died. No doubt more will die before this is over.”

Ryan talks like he knows something about it, and Trevor -

“Okay, so there’s some kind of history between you guys, right?” one of the strangers asks, which means he must not be from here. “Because damn.”

Ryan goes all awkward and stiff as he informs the man he’s not wrong, that Trevor’s his brother -

“Step-brother,” Trevor interjects sweetly, as Ryan was so kind to point out the last time they spoke face-to-face. “Blended family, you know how it is.”

He gets the satisfaction of seeing Ryan wince at the reminder, but it’s a hollow sort of victory.

Ryan goes on to tell the three of them the plan he’s come up with. Housing and pay, all the tedious little details.

A building of their very own that’s been retrofitted with proper training facilities and the whatnot and Trevor eyes the strangers curiously.

Supers, then, but which is very interesting indeed seeing as how fond of them Ryan usually is.

It makes sense, though, doesn’t it. Better mouse trap or…something to catch this pest that’s digging the foundation out from under Ryan’s feet all this time.

Ryan tells them he understands if they choose to decline, tells them to take time to think it over and all that.

There’s this little pause like he’s debating whether or not to ask Trevor to stay behind, but Trevor doesn’t wait for him to come to a decision. Just leaves with the others Ryan picked for this meeting of his and the three of them file out the room and spend an awkward elevator ride together. Trevor’s aware of the curious looks he’s getting, which is fine. (Expected.)

Ryan’s one of the most important people in the city and Trevor is…Trevor.

He gets a question, though, just before they reach the ground floor lobby. Gets asked if Ryan’s on the up and up about this team he’s trying to put together, and honestly?

Trevor doesn’t know.

And oh, the looks he gets for that because they’re (half) brothers, aren’t they? Shouldn’t Trevor be the best qualified to know and all?

The elevator doors open with impeccable timing, and Trevor shrugs, and tells them it was a pleasure and all that as he walks out.

He fully intends to get the hell out of the city, let Ryan clean up his own mess – and it must be his, if he’s willing to involve supers in this - but.

Trevor makes a little stop first.

Quiet little neighborhood he hasn’t been to in years, but it hasn’t changed much.

Rings the doorbell to a jaunty little tune he heard on the radio a few days ago on a door and waits, and then waits some more before he hears sounds of movement. Muffled voice tinged with annoyance and when the door opens, Trevor’s already smiling.

“Hi, Matt,” he says, and laughs at the flatly unamused look on Matt’s face.

For a moment he thinks Matt’s just going to slam the door in is face - rude - but then he sighs and lets Trevor inside.

The place is as cluttered as Trevor remembers it as he follows Matt to his lair.

His computer setup has been vastly upgraded, all shiny and the like.

“What do you want?”

Trevor grins, because Matt’s just like that, isn’t he? So he brings his phone out and shows Matt the photos he took of the two men Ryan had recruited for his team while no one was paying attention.

Not the best lighting or composition, but hopefully enough for Matt to dig up information on them.

And, sure. Trevor could ask Ryan, but where would the fun be in that? (Also, Trevor may or may not have learned not to take Ryan at his word some time back, so there’s that as well.)

Matt gives him this look, and snatches Trevor’s phone out of his hand as he goes to do his technical wizardry.

(Not quite an exaggeration, given Matt’s powers.)

Trevor pokes and prods the collectibles and other knickknacks and whatever else Matt has laying around while he waits.

Eventually Matt calls him over and hands him a little USB and Trevor thanks him, little tip of a hat he’s not wearing and Matt just sighs because yes.

Trevor goes off to that motel room he has, classy place with (almost) nary a suspicious stain to be found anywhere! :D

Plugs that USB Matt gave him into his laptop and does his homework like a good little thief.

Finds out that the British one is a young hero recently arrived in the city by way of Rooster territory.

Powers that have to do with probability manipulation that he can directly utilize in extreme circumstances and so on. Curious blank spot even Matt couldn’t fill in regarding how that was discovered, because you don’t go saying something like that without an Event, now do you? Some kind of incident for that discovery and all, but never mind that for now.

No reason listed why he left his former team to come here of all places, and Trevor is honestly baffled as to why Ryan would be interested in someone with his abilities. (Not a great believer in things like luck and so on, Ryan. Loves his sciences and hard facts and clear results, doesn’t care overmuch for anything else.)

The other one makes more sense, though. Reactive adaptation with a focus on combat – and my, my, my, what an impressive resume he has in that regard. All sorts of qualifications and certifications and rankings and so on.

Quite the list of teams he’s been on that have since disbanded, its members going on to join larger teams and so on. Only good things to be said about him and his past feats and exploits.

Nice upstanding young man with a bright future ahead of him, and he’d come here of all places.

Astounding.

Trevor sits back and stares at the photos and screen grabs Matt had included of the two of them.

The British one seems to stumble into trouble of one kind of another on a regular basis, from simple misunderstandings to God knows what. Has made headlines here and there, identity unconfirmed and all, but Matt knows what he’s about, and Trevor learned to trust his work a long time ago.

One Gavin Free who manages to pick his way clear of any trouble he finds, comes out on top with a cheeky little grin and maybe it’s down to his abilities, maybe not. (Definitely, yes, though, Trevor thinks. Too coincidental otherwise.)

Odd mix of powers Ryan has there, with these two. Mr. Diaz, yes, okay. Easy to explain away? But Mr. Free?

Most curious.

Makes no damn sense at all, but maybe Ryan’s just that desperate. (He called Trevor home, after all.)

Trevor’s phone buzzes, and when he checks it there’s a new message from Ryan asking to talk, and he has to applaud him for the timing of it.

Shuts his laptop down and heads out to this little meeting of his and isn’t at all surprised when a sleek black limo pulls up alongside him after a block.

Trevor gets in because it’s cold out, so close to winter. Ignores the look Ryan gives him as he rubs his hands together to warm them up because they aren’t kids anymore and it’s none of Ryan’s concern, now is it?

They drive along for a while without a word. Clearly no destination in mind, and Trevor starts to think maybe he should just bail before things get any more awkward?

But then Ryan starts talking. Telling Trevor that yes, alright, he’s made some missteps, Ryan has. Got too caught up in his grief over losing their parents, and there’s that little snap of anger again because understatement? (And when, oh when, was the last time Trevor heard him call them that with any kind of sincerity behind it instead of that seething resentment?)

But he doesn’t interrupt Ryan, no. Let’s him talk about his feelings and all, other mistakes he made. (The rift with his relationship with Trevor and so on.)

Trevor eyes him because Ryan sounds remorseful about it, but he’s a very good actor.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d sponsor a team of supers,” he says.

Ryan may be smart enough not to voice his disdain for said teams and their ilk these days considering how popular they are with the public, but Trevor knows all about it, doesn’t he.

Heard the rants before he left, the way Ryan’s opinion of them did that sharp about face after their parents’ deaths, the way the city’s heroes didn’t lift a finger to help and so on and so on. How so many of them are chasing fame and glory and riches rather than out to do good. Cared more about their image, whether they’d get paid than doing what they were meant to. (Loyalty and the lack thereof.)

“Times change,” Ryan says, odd note to it as he watches the city blur by. “People change.”

Trevor snorts, but he can’t help but notice the limo driver seems to be headed somewhere now, not just driving aimlessly in circles. Glances at Ryan who is still focused on the view outside the limo and keeps his silence until they pull up to a building.

The one Ryan showed Trevor and the others in that little meeting earlier, because of course.

Ryan looks at Trevor then, head cocked, and Trevor doesn’t have a good reason not to follow him as Ryan gets out.

They go on a little tour of the building, Ryan showing him the amenities and whatnot, and they end up on one of the training areas. Obstacle course that takes up an entire floor. Must have cost a pretty penny and all -

“I could use your help,” Ryan says, sounding less like the blowhard Trevor remembers him as and more like the brother he grew up with. “Gavin and Alfredo have potential, but they need someone like you to keep them focused.”

Well that’s a bold-faced lie.

Trevor doesn’t know what Ryan’s up to with this team of his, but it’s definitely suspect.

“I doubt they’d appreciate working with someone who has a record like mine,” he says, half-hearted attempt at humor.

The Roosters aren’t as strict in their hiring practices as most teams, but even they would have thought twice about bringing someone like Trevor on board.

And Alfredo?

Well, no knowing his thoughts on the matter but his past teams were of the goody two-shoes sort.

Ryan laughs, mouth quirking as he glances at Trevor.

“You’d be surprised,” he says.

And.

Trevor stares at Ryan, all these reasons to say no in his head. Some are even valid, but truth be told Trevor’s a bit of an idiot.

“I guess we’ll see,” he says, and bites back a smile at the surprise he can just feel rolling off Ryan who was expecting more of a fight.

Anyway.

Trevor agrees to be the leader of this new team, moves what possessions he has at the motel to the team’s HQ and sets about putting things to order.

Is pleasantly surprised when Gavin and Alfredo show up a few days later. Gavin first and Alfredo a few hours behind him.

Gives them the same tour Ryan gave him and leaves them to pick out which living quarters they like as he wrangles paperwork. (Endless amounts of it involved in any sort of team.)

He gives them a few days to settle in, get comfortable with the place before he calls them together for a meeting. Tells them there’s a mandatory physical before they can begin training and then montage?

Trevor putting them through their paces starting with a standard obstacle course and moving on to the ones designed for supers to test their reflexes and response times and whatever else. Standard training exercises and Alfredo’s powers are super impressive, right?

Has Gavin all :DDDDDDDDDDD because it’s just real cool and Alfredo is aw, shucks about it because it’s just this thing he does?

Doesn’t even have conscious control of it half the time because ingrained training and instincts and reflexes and all that, but hey, thanks?

And Gavin is like, no, no, it’s really cool!

Trevor is just hmm because it’s nice to see them getting along, but most of the time Alfredo’s powers kick in because Gavin’s go a little haywire?

Sudden accidents and general bad luck, and Gavin deflates because yeah, okay.

There’s this whole thing where he may or may not have annoyed someone who has the sort of powers that could affect his when he was still with the Roosters?

Snap of their fingers when Gavin pushed them a little too much and Gavin’s good luck turns to shit. And since his powers extend to those nearby Things Happened around him.

It was supposed to be a temporary thing, just a few days and hopefully Gavin would have learned his less, but his former teammate got sucked into a long-term mission somewhere and it slipped their mind to fix Gavin’s powers before they left, and just.

There’s only so many times your luck can turn on you and those around you until it becomes a Problem. (Before someone gets hurt.)

Gavin felt he was being a bit of a burden on his team with his bad luck and all interfering in their heroing and was all :DDDDDDDDD as he told them he wanted to try working solo for a bit. Change of pace and all and somehow Ryan scooped up him for this team of theirs? (Guilt heavy in his chest for all the close calls his run of bad luck caused and lesson learned but that’s not enough to break that little jinx, is it?)

Trevor and Alfredo share a look because Gavin puts up a good front, but it’s clear the whole situation is affecting him, so.

“Well, we’ll just have to find a way to make that work in our favor then,” Trevor says, and Alfredo is totally on board and just.

Team Bonding?

Alfredo brings up the whole thing about being tired of working with all those gung-ho goody-good types?

Just.

Strict and close-minded and sometimes a little too religious about following the rules, and after his last team disbanded thought he’d try the solo thing for a while? See how that worked for him, and then Ryan popped up and hey, someone has to do something, right?

And Trevor is just.

Huh.

A little uncomfortable to admitting the whole Master Thief thing? But since they opened up he can’t do  any less.

Mentions the fact his parents were heroes – big names as that kind of thing goes – but he doesn’t name names. (Knows they’ll figure it out eventually if they stay in the city because hey, the press loves dragging their names up every now and then. Talking about the family drama that followed and so on and so forth., but figures that’s a Future Problem.)

There are more montage scenes where they continue to train, teamwork coming along nicely and friendships developing and such, and then!

One day Trevor’s out on a jog or walk and runs into this odd little figure.

Literally. (Well, almost literally.)

Glances down at his team communicator gadget on his wrist when it buzzes – Gavin with another of his   bizarre hypotheticals – and has to do this awkward little stop-stumble-shuffle to keep from running into this guy.

On the short side of things and this look on his face as Trevor comes to a flailing stop. Also -

“You’re being lied to.”

???

Trevor stares down at this stranger because cryptic much? And of course he has to follow him after that because clearly that’s the smart thing to do in such a situation?

They go over to a park bench where the guy brings out this bag of frozen peas and feeds the ducks that come over curiously hoping for food – and slides Trevor this look.

“Bread’s bad for them,” he says, defensive note to his voice.

(Because yes he is playing out a spy movie cliché while carrying a bag of frozen peas in your coat pocket, but at least he’s being conscientious about things.)

The guy tells Trevor he’s being lied to about Ryan’s little team, all these little stories and secrets about what’s really been happening and Trevor listens because of course he does. Files everything he’s being told away to double and triple check later with Matt and other contacts he still (hopefully) has around the city because he’s not stupid.

Still, what he’s being told does sound an awful lot like the Ryan he remembers, and it’s -

It doesn’t hurt, not that much anymore. Not like it did at the start of it all. Now it’s just this dull little pain, like a bruise you didn’t know you had until you put pressure on it or knock it against something. (Quiet, lingering thing.)

The guy ran out of peas a while back, but there are still a few ducks hanging around, occasional little quacks and other sounds out of them hoping the idiot humans will feed them again.

But no, no, because the guy tucks the empty bag into a coat pocket and wipes his hands on his pants before he gets up to leave. Gives Trevor this look – sympathetic and walks away.

Trevor looks down at one particularly persistent duck, greedy little fiend and tells it he might bring something for it the next day if the weather’s good and goes back to the base Ryan gave him and his odd little team.

Sits on all the information he was given for a few days until he heads over to see Matt, who is just this side of Done with Trevor’s nonsense regarding the doorbell ringing serenades.

“A gift to that shrine you seem to be building!” Trevor chirps, bright and cheerful as he shoves a bag of  collectibles and soon-to-be knickknacks that he couldn’t help notice Matt was missing on his earlier visit.

Matt sighs, because that’s what Matt does sometimes and Trevor doesn’t ask because he wouldn’t want to pry.

And then he asks Matt if he would mind looking into a few things for him?

Matt grumbles but hey, it’s almost impossible to find the collectibles Trevor brought him and it is Trevor, so.

“Fine, not like I had my hands full with other shit, but why not?”

Trevor beams at him and goes off to visit his other contacts around the city.

Gets back to HQ to find Alfredo and Gavin fucking around in one of the training rooms, Gavin laughing like an idiot as he snipes Alfredo with a Nerf gun? There are other similar weapons littering the area, and Trevor realizes they don’t know hes there, so he just.

Watches for a while.

Gavin coming up with ridiculous test scenarios and Alfredo agreeing or letting Gavin talk him into them and while it’s hardly scientific, there is some kind of method to their madness?

Sure, it’s mostly them goofing around, but it’s also weirdly productive? (Besides team bonding and the whatnot.)

And then Alfredo starts chasing Gavin for Revenge and Gavin almost runs into Trevor and it’s this oh, shit moment because the boss/team leader caught them goofing off?

(Trevor’s hardly been a terrible team leader to them, but there’s definite Distance between the three of them, feeling like the two of them have been forced on him and he’s not super duper keen about things, so. Yeah. Not sure how to read him and all that. Trust, sure, don’t really know which way he’d jump if things got rough.)

Alfredo rounding the corner all a-ha! Gotcha! And his oh shit moment when he sees Trevor.

Little standoff, Gavin backing up until he bumps into Alfredo who’s eyeing Trevor warily. (Wants to trust the asshole, right? But - )

Trevor smirks and pegs Gavin with one of the Nerf guns he picked up earlier and while Gavin and Alfredo are processing all that he pops Alfredo too.

Smirks, because he’s totally laughing at these two dorks, and challenges to best out of whatever, right?

Gavin and Alfredo share this look because ??? and Trevor feels guilty for not giving the two of them- his team – his all the way they deserved and hopes they’ll give him another chance and all that.

The three of them “train” for a while longer and Trevor realizes that yes, okay, they make for an odd team but Gavin and Alfredo aren’t that bad as people go and he puts more of himself into this Team thing.

Keeps running into the guy he met (not quite so literally) and getting cryptic bits of information from him about goings on and so forth.

And then there’s an attack on one of the company facilities the team gets called out to stop and things go about as you’d expect because they’re still not a team-team yet. Haven’t worked out the kinks in regards to teamwork and get in each other’s way. Come out of with minor injuries and property damage and nothing much to show for it.

Ryan isn’t pleased with the whole mess and Trevor steps up to shoulder the blame because he knows he’s not been the best team leader and so on and so forth. (Gets this look from Ryan who backs down easily enough and tells Trevor he hopes they’ll do better the next time there’s an attack and leaves to deal with the mess.)

Gavin and Alfredo just watching and realizing Trevor’s doing his best to do right by them so of course there’s bonding going on and all that.

Also, more training which means ~montage sequence~ and so on.

Trevor and meeting with Matt and his contacts and Mystery Duck-feeding Guy and all that.

And then!

Another attack, larger in scope and the Dusk Boys are holding their own for a while until some bruiser comes along and just. Flings them aside like annoying little flies.

Trevor getting back up in time to see Gavin about to get flattened, but then!

Then another hero type appears out of nowhere and takes care of the bruiser for them. Just bulls on in and takes all these hits before knocking the bastard out, and Trevor is just staring because its Mystery Duck-feeding Man. (Of course it is.)

The guy disappears before the authorities get there to clean up the mess from the fight, leaving Trevor and his team to deal with all of that, but Trevor is like HMM.

Lies about knowing who the guy that saved them was – this little pause from Gavin and Fredo because they know he’s lying, but they follow his lead when they’re questioned about it.

Things are quiet for a bit after that, Gavin and Fredo wanting to know what the deal is with their mystery savior and Trevor, but don’t want to alienate Trevor when they were just becoming a real team.

Ryan coming down to Talk to Trevor privately, seems troubled by the whole thing but Trevor lies to him too and Ryan -

Sighs and lets Trevor have his secrets and goes back to running the company and such.

And then!

More attacks and Trevor’s friend popping in to save them from time to time. Ryan popping in every so often and warning Trevor that things aren’t always what they seem and be careful who he trusts, which is a bit ironic, given the everything.

Matt and Trevor’s contacts get back to Trevor with the information he sent them hunting for and it’s enlightening, to say the least.

Goes to his suite at their little HQ and reads all about the shady things Ryan was rumored to be involved in before and after Trevor left to wander about willy-nilly.

Noted coolness towards the supers teams in the city, particularly towards the one their parents were once part of.

The way he had this focus on not quite replacing the hero teams in the city as being an auxiliary group for them? Providing support alternatives – so many villains and all that, teams can’t be everywhere.

Training programs for non-supers, gadgets they could use to suppress various powers and all this legal red-tape to wade through because talk about potential complications? (Whispers he might have take too much after his mother – first born and some never believed her heel-face turn was genuine. Just a ploy, and they’ve seen supervillains fake their deaths before. And, and, he’s always been a bit odd.)

Makes Trevor feel a little sick because it makes a terrible sort of sense – Ryan was so angry when their parents died. Even if the rumors about their mother faking her death are bullshit, Ryan’s feelings about that were never in doubt.

All this new information has him looking at Gavin and Alfredo in a new light. He doesn’t think they’re in on it, if Ryan’s up to something Nefarious, but maybe???

Before he can do anything about it, there’s another attack.

There have been so many, building up to something big, and this one takes place at the opening of one of those training facilities of Ryan’s for a private security force kind of thing. Most meant to look after the company’s interests, but contracts available to the city at large and all that.

City and law officials in attendance, instructors and investors, all that.

Ryan in a lovely little suit, and they get attacked.

Trevor was watching from a nearby roof, and Gavin and Alfredo are off…somewhere. (Day off and shenanigans to be had, you know.)

Trevor running before he knows it because they may not see eye-to-eye, but Ryan’s still Ryan.

Gets there in time to see the instructors and whatnot bundling the officials and reporters and whatnot off to safety. Realize that Ryan’s the target this time, and oh, what a time to be so unprepared.

No powers, just the training he’s got under his belt and all these dirty little tricks and this bastard of a supervillain who takes a hit like it’s nothing.

Full-face mask and something familiar to him – but he doesn’t get a lot of time to dwell on that because of all the fighting???

Anyway.

They keep fighting, Trevor doing his best to keep the bastard away from Ryan and the others who have sought shelter inside the facility, trying to reach the security center to put out a call for help and all. (In case people watching the live broadcast and all missed the commotion?)

The two of them are playing this cat and mouse game, Trevor ignoring the taunts being flung his way – bastard’s using a voice modulator so it’s extra creepy?

Uses little throwing knives and shuriken and the like because yes, and realizes after he ducks into hiding that the supervillain isn’t impervious because there’s some blood splattered around. Not enough to constitute a serious injury, but nice to know he’s not up against someone who isn’t even feeling any of Trevor’s attacks.

And then when the guy rushes him realizes he’s not just shaking off Trevor’s attacks, that he’s letting Trevor get hits on him so he can use his own blood to create armor???

Calls it up on his forearm to block or encases his hands with it when he attacks, sharp spikes that cut through Trevor’s clothes and the thin armor undersuit he always wears as a matter of habit? (Dangerous world out there, and even more so for someone in his line of work without powers of his own to speak of. The fact that the only armor undersuits Trevor trusts are made by the company Ryan’s run is just a coincidence, really.)

It’s kind of gross and impressive as hell – rare too, because (haha, not a joke) bloodlines and so on and this whole stigma of powers like that being mainly supervillainish?

And then!

The guy knocks him aside, tosses him through a display case or something and goes after Ryan and the others. Trevor struggling to get up, which is when Gavin and Alfredo show up – Dramatic Timing! - and he waves them on ahead because he’s not seriously hurt, okay.

Staggers after the two of them because can’t sit this one out and he’ll be fine in a bit, just needs to let his brain settle.

He follows the sound of fighting, gets to where the commotion is long enough to see Gavin’s bad luck kick in, see the little idiot get pinned under something and Alfredo rushing to his rescue and the supervillain go in for the kill.

Tosses out a normal little flashbang followed by a smoke grenade. (Has a pair of his special little goggles on because he’s no idiot and same principle behind the body armor and all? Like Batman only slightly less emotionally constipated.)

Turns out the supervillain’s face mask might have similar tech because he lunges out of the smoke at Trevor who grabs a bit of broken wood or something along those lines and swings out. Manages to crack the supervillain across the side of the face just so to dislodge the face mask. Twist it, bend it, whatever it’s broken/uncomfortable the bastard has to rip it off as he throws himself backwards just out of range.

Chest heaving and utterly furious and Trevor can’t do anything but stare, because he fucking well knows the asshole.

It’s Mystery Duck-feeding Guy!!!

This little stare-down until someone makes a noise – Gavin while Alfredo’s trying to pull him free – and  Mystery Duck-feeding Guy looks at them.

At Trevor.

Wipes one of his hands through the blood on his face thanks to the blow to the head from Trevor and Trevor watches as he forms this deadly little dagger out of it.

Sleek, elegant. Deadly looking.

Does the whole slow Evil Smile bit and goes for Trevor’s idiots like oh hey, not going to get Ryan today? Why not take out of the idiots he’s hired instead?

Trevor reacts without thinking because no, his idiots, and finds out first-hand that hey, wow, a blood-knife (ugh, gross) will go through the armor undersuit as easily as those damn blood spikes.

Also, he’s kind of stabbed. A lot? A lot.

He gets  Mystery Duck-feeding Guy all up in his personal space and glaring down at him like he didn’t want to do this, look what you made him do Trevor.

“I tried to warn you,” he says, and then he’s snarling again as Gavin and Alfredo double-team him, Trevor watching as they chase him off.

(Too much of a hassle to try for Ryan now, what with the sirens they can hear incoming and a pair of riled up supers. Missed opportunity and he’ll succeed next time.)

And then it’s Gavin and Alfredo rushing over to him, Ryan and the others who took shelter filtering out now the threat’s gone.

Ryan dropping down beside him and Trevor swears, swears, Ryan looks concerned. None of that careful distance, bland little smile he gives the media and just about everyone else to see now.

Might be the way he’s bleeding out, Alfredo doing his best to stop the bleeding and Gavin looking a little paler than normal trying to get him to focus, stay with them, c’mon you bastard.

All of Trevor’s blood insisting it wants out and he feels cold. (Winter’s coming on, though, so that’s probably it.)

Ryan makes this noise, awful to hear, and then he’s pushing Gavin out of the way – not angry, just like he’s in the way.

Says something to Alfredo Trevor doesn’t catch, and then he’s pressing down over the stab wound with those goddamned mitts of his, all these callouses he shouldn’t have anymore Trevor can feel, and cold.

Colder than the air outside, the chill in his bones seeping in as his blood goes out.

Something Trevor remembers from when they were kids, when their - Ryan’s - mom would tut over skinned knees and other small hurts.

Rest one of her hands over the injury and use her powers – dark, wrong everyone said, and only supervillains had powers like that – and made them go away. (This song she’d hum to distract from the sting of it, tissue and skin knitting back together.)

“Oh,” Trevor says, because it’s been a long, long time since Ryan’s used those powers he inherited, turned his back on the whole deal after their parents died. “Huh.”

…and then he passes the fuck out because he might not be actively dying, but he lost a lot of blood and also shock and the whatnot. (And y’know, Plot Reasons.)

Trevor wakes up in a hospital some time later and there’s this weight against his legs. Looks down and sees Gavin asleep in a chair with his head pillowed on his arms, elbows just brushing Trevor’s legs. (Can’t be in any way comfortable or good for his back, and Trevor totally doesn’t smile at the sight of it, no.)

He looks to his right when he hearts this little snorty-snore thing he definitely remembers fro way back when and Ryan’s in a chair beside his bed. Dozing off and looking awful the way he used to when he pushed himself too far.

It’s.

He doesn’t know what to make of that at the moment, or the odd chill he can still feel where he was stabbed - lingering almost tingly feeling of Ryan’s powers. (Ryan’s mother’s powers.)

“Hey,” Trevor hears, quiet enough not to wake Gavin or Ryan. “Congratulations on not being dead.”

Trevor blinks, because okay, yes. That is quite the accomplishment, and looks to the other side of the bed where Alfredo’s sitting.

Closer to the door, back straight and even with the lights turned down the way they are he can tell Alfredo looks tired.

“Thanks,” Trevor says, croaky little thing because his throat is dry and everything is kind of terrible. “I try.”

Alfredo hmms as though he’d very much like to dispute that but since Trevor probably looks as pathetic as he feels he lets him have that for the time being.

Alfredo fills him in on everything that happened after the whole passing out thing Trevor did. The police showing up along with the usual crowd of paramedics and all that, Ryan dealing with things and sending Alfredo and Gavin with Trevor while he dealt with the press.

Trevor side-eyeing the idiot in question because hey, yes.

Might be seen as a bit cold on his part, but he knows Ryan. How exhausted he would have been, “useless” if there was another attack and getting the three of them out of there while he did his best to appear in control of things.

Ryan wakes up just as Alfredo finishes catching Trevor up on things, has this look on his face like Trevor doesn’t even know, okay. (Some guilt to it, regret. Worry and concern, all sorts of things.)

“We’re, uh. Gonna leave you two to it, grab something to eat and all that” Alfredo says, shaking Gavin awake and pulling him out of the room so it’s Trevor and Ryan and their issues and all that.

Ryan clearing his throat because talk about subtle on Alfredo’s part, and then it’s Ryan’s turn to talk.

“I may not have been entirely…forthcoming with certain matters,” he says, which is an understatement.

Trevor is like “Oh? Do tell.”

So Ryan does.

This whole Thing that started after their parents died, all that anger and resentment he felt because he knew something was off about the explanation they were given?Their parents were members of the main hero team in the city and there was always this rift between the others members and them. They didn’t trust her after she gave up her villainous ways, resented her for ensnaring their leader’s affections and all, blinding him to “what she truly was” and all that.

So he stepped down as leader, let one of the others take over since they obviously felt his judgment was flawed. Stayed with the team for a while, few years, but it never got better.

They had Ryan and Trevor to think of, happy little blended family, (Ryan from his mother’s previous relationship and Trevor from his father’s) and the strain with the team had them considering retiring from the hero business altogether to raise their kids and all that?

Focus on using the company to good via charities and programs and so forth and so on to help others where possible.

But then the Incident with their mother’s former allies and a call for backup that went unanswered – too many conflicting accounts as to why.

An attack the rest of the team was dealing with elsewhere and no chance to send someone to help them.

Equipment jammed by baddies so they just never got the call. Other things along the same lines and this sense he got those were all lies  - feigned remorse and guilt and so on in news releases, at their parents’ funeral and everything after no one else seemed to notice? (Not even Trevor.)

And then he started looking into things, found indiscrepancies and such and thought there was something bigger to this. Loose end of a conspiracy he started working to untangle and when he realized the scope of it – hazy glimpse – he realized he needed to Get Trevor out of the line of fire?

(Typical kind of conspiracy, self-interest and greed. Deals made with the wrong people for the wrong reasons and blackmail? Worry that Ryan’s mom knew, might Do Something about it and better get her out of the picture before they were exposed. And her husband too, because he’d never rest if he thought   she was murdered for reasons other than the usual villainy.)

So he turned himself into a bastard, drove Trevor away and threw himself into taking over their parents’ projects with the company and untangling the conspiracy.

Didn’t like doing it of course, but better Trevor be far away from the mess instead of smack in the middle of it like Ryan was.

There were a few incidents here and there. Attempted assassinations and so on because the wrong people knew he was looking into things and the people close to Ryan insisting on a bodyguard, so in comes this bodyguard, right?

Bright, cheerful little asshole who sees right through Ryan’s cold bastard faced and befriends him, wins him over. Becomes a good friend, trusted confidante.

(Jeremy insisting on teaching Ryan to fight in case Jeremy’s not around or down for the count and Ryan being amused because look, okay.

His mother was a supervillain (reformed), and his father (step-father) was a superhero, and Ryan knows how to fight, but yeah, okay. Sure.

All these sparring matches with the usual shenanigans and Jeremy being all :DDDDDDDD at finding out Ryan can keep up with him and Ryan all >:D because vice versa)

“You would have liked him, I think,” Ryan says, sad little smile and all this hurt to it Trevor doesn’t quite understand.

But then Ryan keeps talking.

Tells Trevor about this one attempt on his life involving a super, and Jeremy – because of course it’s Jeremy – being forced to use his powers to save Ryan’s life and how scared he was afterwards.

Because, look.

That whole stigma about the blood armor/blood weapons thing he could do? Only villains have those kinds of powers and on and on and on because people are real, real dumb?

Jeremy lying and telling people he had some kind of kinetic energy absorption powers and all that when what he was creative use of his powers to protect/defend himself. (Took a lot of training to fool people like that, be so precise with it no one had noticed or realized.)

And Ryan okay.

He inherited is mother’s powers, ability to heal using darkness and all that. Their parents had kept it quiet because they knew how people were about that kind of thing, didn’t want him to be ostracized as a kid.

Told Ryan he could do what he wanted about it when he was older and his mother made sure he had control of his powers because it’s as easy to use them for harm. (And when he started on exposing this conspiracy decided it was best to act as though he didn’t have powers to speak of because reasons.)

Jeremy being all “Oh,” about it, and the two of them growing closer after that. (Trevor being ah at that part because he gets what that sad little smile was about now.)

And then!

Ryan bringing Jeremy in on the conspiracy thing of his and the two of them running across something big, something major.

Something that made someone panic, go after Ryan with intent, and Jeremy there to stop it.

Got grabbed, and the baddies knew he was important to Ryan, right? Were looking into Ryan as much as he was looking into them and oh, what a terrible thing to have a weakness like that, you know.

Because one of the baddies is a genius when it comes to brainwashing and they turn Jeremy against Ryan.

Take him and convince him Ryan’s the real enemy here, and Jeremy should do something about it.

So he does.

Goes after Ryan and this company he’s so proud of.

The two of them fight once or twice, Ryan reluctant to hurt Jeremy because he has this vague hope he can get through to him somehow and Jeremy using everything he can to hurt Ryan. (Scraps of memory of their friendship and almost something more they never quite got around to putting into words because idiots. Wore him down, broke his heart.)

And then people got hurt and Ryan -

He didn’t know what to do. Knew Jeremy needed to be stopped – for the innocents being pulled into this mess. For Jeremy himself, even if he never knows why.

But he doesn’t know who to trust, can’t trust the main hero team. Isn’t sure about the others in the city or the cops.

Looks into independents, and finds out about Gavin. Alfredo.

Thinks hmm, and maybe, and realizes they need a leader. Only really one person he’d trust, and all this time spent trying to come up with an alternative because he doesn’t want Trevor anywhere near this mess, you know? Went to extremes to make sure he wasn’t involved in the first place, and now with the Jeremy Thing -

But he doesn’t have a lot of choice in the end. (Trevor’s the only one he can trust to do what needs to be done because Ryan is well and truly compromised, and wow, wow. Don’t think he doesn’t feel guilty about putting that on Trevor without telling him why, but he’s at the end of his rope.)

So he calls Trevor home, and lies to him about things. (Nothing new there, and the guilt about that cuts the way it usually does, because he cares about his idiot of a brother that much.)

And then!

And then he thinks there’s a chance it won’t end in disaster when he gets Trevor’s reports about the team working well together. About their training and settling in to things. The way Trevor seems not to hate him as much as he used to. (It’s what Ryan wanted, after all, right? To keep him safe, and Jesus Christ, that’s a fucked up kind of reasoning.)

But then he hears about Trevor meeting with this strange little man – Matt and other contacts – and he Worries.

Tries to talk to Trevor about it but Ryan’s not the only one who learned to guard their secrets.

And then the latest attack and Trevor and Ryan not giving a fuck about keeping his powers a secret. (Also, you know, explanations long overdue.)

Trevor just stares at Ryan who’s looking down at his hands waiting for his reaction.

“My God,” Trevor says. “You really are just that stupid, aren’t you?”

Ryan flinching because look, harsh if not untrue.

Trevor hugging the idiot with this ache in his chest because goddamn is Ryan stupid trying to take all that on by himself.

(Angry too, because he didn’t need to do any of that on his own. Sure, Trevor doesn’t have powers, but he’s hardly helpless. And the lies, good God the lies. Gonna be a long way to good between the two of them with all that, but at least there’s a chance there now that Trevor knows what the hell has been going on with Ryan all this time.)

Alfredo and Gavin come back and Ryan fills them in too, tells them they understand if they want to quit the team after that. (Lies being no way to base any kind of relationship on and all, even a working one.)

Trevor stays quiet, lets them make their own decisions, which you know.

They’re shaken by the Conspiracy Thing, but of course they’re going to stay, because friendship. (And Doing the Right Thing.)

And then, you know.

Long, long fight ahead of them trying to pin Jeremy down.

That time he and Ryan end up trapped together somewhere and forced to work together to get out of the situation?

Ryan trying to get through to him even though Jeremy thinks he’s the literal worst?

The time Trevor, Gavin, and Alfredo end up stranded somewhere with one of them seriously injured and are forced to realize oh, no FEELINGS. (Ryan laughing at them because he saw that one coming a mile away, and happy because Trevor’s happy???)

Baddies getting tired of Jeremy just not killing Ryan (there was this one time he kind of did, but Ryan got better, and Jeremy’s brainwashing cracking before Ryan got better because what is this emotion he’s feeling as he stares at Ryan’s body???) so they take matters into their own hands and Jeremy forced to work with the Dusk Boys to protect Ryan.

And then you know, Climactic Battle where Jeremy’s given the choice to kill Ryan or turn on the baddies and decides to save Ryan. (Hasn’t broken the brainwashing, but over time he’s come to realize the baddies aren’t telling him everything? And in spite of their many battles and the whatnot Ryan and the Dusk Boys never tried to kill him, okay. Stop him, sure. Kill? No.)

After the dust clears and the Conspiracy exposed, all guilty parties behind bars or whatever, Jeremy’s still not back to himself, but he doesn’t have reason to be a villain anymore.

(Also, they find out there’s no way to reverse the brainwashing, so there’s that little bombshell.)

But he also needs to Think, so he disappears for a while. Gets bits and pieces of memory back, enough to know his head’s all fucked up and wanders for a bit more coming to terms with that. (The feelings he has for Ryan – conflicting and confusing as hell and he doesn’t know what he wants there either, so even more wandering because of course.)

Eventually he heads back home because he’s tired and still confused, but he’s not going to find his answers wherever he’s been roaming around.

Stays under the radar for a bit, long enough to find out the Dusk Boys are making a name for themselves in the city. That Ryan’s company is going strong, all these programs and such doing a lot of good for the people here.

The main hero team has disbanded, a new one taking their place and new faces. New villains too.

Kind of laughs at himself when he goes to help the Dusk Boys out in a fight, and sees their surprise, hesitation – not sure what he’s doing back or helping them? - but they shake off any concerns they have about that because civilians in danger!!1!

Afterwards they drag him back to their base (he doesn’t put up much of a fight on that one) and call Ryan up and it’s this.

Thing.

Because Ryan’s surprise at seeing him again. And this. Jeremy won’t call it hope at seeing him with the others, because Ryan locks it down so fucking fast, but it’s something that makes him think he made the right call in coming back?

After that Jeremy sticks to himself – still working things out, trying to shake the brainwashing that’s more of a curtain between Now Him and Before Him instead of what it was in the beginning. (This burning jagged thing in his head, wrong, but he could never understand how or why.)

Trevor hints that Ryan could use a bodyguard – with the main baddies gone you wouldn’t think he needs one? But he’s a super duper tempting target and he’s got business enemies too. (Also, also, known supporter/creator of the Dusk Boys so their enemies will be going after him, which lol.)

Jeremy isn’t so sure about it what with doing his best to kill Ryan all those times? And Ryan is like. He doesn’t want to put Jeremy in a difficult spot, but!

There’s an attempt on Ryan’s life and Jeremy protects him without a second thought and oh, hey, okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst possible thing?

Jeremy chips away at the brainwashing the longer he’s around Ryan, remembers how things used to be between them in little glimpses and so on. (No way to break it, but without the person responsible for it reinforcing/refreshing it/whatevering it around, it weakens over time.)

They fall into old habits that has Ryan all ow, my heart at how familiar it is, and Jeremy all feelings???

Ryan doesn’t push, doesn’t want to hope, but Now Jeremy is so similar to Before Jeremy and he forgets sometimes.

Brings up in-jokes and so on that feel so familiar to Jeremy and he’s not sure why? (He is, he just doesn’t get the context.)

Ryan always apologizes and Jeremy always tells him he doesn’t need to and it’s awkward between them.

But then ~FEELINGS and the start of something new between them because Ryan isn’t expecting anything from Jeremy and Jeremy comes to respect Ryan – to like him.

And just.

Angsty hurty bittersweet feels for them as they fall in love a second time, because I’m That Person.

And then, you know.

Happily(ish) ever afters for everyone???

[gore-hovnd]

After having an argument during a mission, Brock got drunk, handcuffed his SIC and showed him who was in charge (maybe you can add some whips with a belt as part of the punishment).Then Jack patiently waits the perfect moment to make Brock pay and when that moment finally arrives, he sends his CO through hell before forgiving him (inspired by leviathanhomecooking's gifs set of Alex and Abe)

This gif set is one of my favorites and I’ve been looking for an excuse to write something for it so thank you lol

Await Further Instruction

Warning For: Belting, Implied past abuse, Non-Consensual Punishment

Reconnaissance missions had to single handedly be the absolute bane of Brock’s existence. They were slow, they were time consuming, and worst of all, they put strain on everyone involved. Especially Jack.

Brock tried to make sure their relationship was completely professional while working, none of their teammates needed to know. And they didn’t. And both of them liked it that way. It had its ups and downs but Brock hadn’t really seen much of a problem. Until they were assigned a reconnaissance mission, that is. 

And there they sat, Jack absentmindedly shaking his leg as he stared daggers at the facility before them. They’d gotten word on a man who allegedly had information on the whereabouts of the fabled Winter Soldier. Brock could hardly believe it when he’d first gotten the briefing from Pierce but, it was all true. The guy had apparently decided he had enough of HYDRA and thought the Russian Mafia would be able to protect him. But oh how wrong he was. Which was what lead to STRIKE Team Alpha hiding in the forests of Siberia, staking out the third secret building this man had business at. 

The chill in the air nipped at them as snow ate away at their clothes and Brock wondered how a place could still be so cold during the summer. Yet, somehow, Jack was laying on his stomach in the snow, staring at the building through a pair of binoculars to hopefully catch movement. Their target was due to be there anytime between ten a.m. and noon, which meant even more waiting on their part. It was nearly eleven and they’d all been there since five. Brock wanted to make sure there was little chance of them being seen, deciding that it would be best to get there before the sun came up, much to the team’s dread. 

Huffing, Brock crouched next to Jack, staring down the line to the building that was about two and a half kilometers away, down a steep slope and at the edge of a clearing that stretched out for miles.

“D’ you ever get cold?” Brock asked, trying to keep the shiver out of his voice. Jack didn’t flinch, keeping a steady position as a smirk crossed his face. 

“Not growin’ up with Colorado winters, I don’t. Bring me back here in December and see if I’m not cold then.” Jack quipped and Brock smiled. Jack was just easier to be with and Brock liked that. 

They all kept silent as the sound of snow crunching beneath tires alerted them. Ducking down beside Jack, Brock watched as well as he was able as a man stepped out from the car, seemingly alone. 

“That’s him.” Jack said quietly, putting his binoculars down the second the man disappeared behind the door. Standing, Jack dusted the powdery snow from his clothes before turning back to the rest of their team. 

“Alright, Decker, Reed, you’re with me. Lomack, I want security cameras online now. Keller, stay on standby. You’re our only medic while Blake’s out of commission. Barkley, you come along but I want you to keep your distance unless something happens.” Jack said as he picked up an extra clip for his gun before slinging a rifle over his shoulder. And the men moved, collecting the things they needed for the tasks given. 

“Woah, now, wait a second,” Brock said, a bit startled with how quickly Jack had decided to take control. “What’re you doin’?”

Everyone paused, Jack included. Brock stared at him, stabbing him with an expectant look before Jack just shrugged. 

“Gettin’ ready to go grab Andreyev. What else does it look like?” Jack chuckled and Brock only shook his head in a bit of disbelief. 

“We’re not goin’ in there. This is the Russian mob we’re talkin’ about and they are armed to the teeth.” Brock decided, standing up to look Jack in the eye better. “It’s too dangerous. We wait until next location”

The tone that left him was deep, commanding, and the exact opposite of helpful. Jack tilted his head in that way he always did when he was sizing up a challenge. And Brock was helpless to watch as Jack’s nose wrinkled briefly in that way it did when he was accepting. 

“We been scoutin’ this guy for six days, Rums.” Jack almost scoffed, gesturing to the rest of the team who were aptly deciding to avoid eye contact. “We’re all tired of waitin’ around. We’re goin’ in, this mission needs t’ end.” 

Pausing, Brock snorted a little as his hands found their way to his hips. Shifting his weight to his left side, he stared at Jack like he’d just said the stupidest shit in the world. 

“Listen, Jack, I dunno who the fuck you think you are but I’m your superior and right now I’m telling you to stand down.” Brock warned. But Jack didn’t seem to care, his temper flaring as he reciprocated Brock’s annoyance. 

“This is bullshit. You told me I was on retrieval. You gave me a job to do, yeah? I’m tryin’ t’ do that but you’re not lettin’ me.” Jack growled, his voice raising as attitude flared through his words. Brock stared at him momentarily with wide eyes before he tried, and failed, to mask his irritation with a smirk. 

“Ya know,” He sighed, letting out a humorless laugh. “If I ever raised my voice like that to my CO, he would’a had the back of his hand across my mouth.” 

All was silent as a heavy tension blanketed the team. An agitated smile found its way over Jack’s features as he nodded, glancing to the side for a second before turning his glare back on Brock. 

“Oh yeah? Why not do the same?” Jack asked suddenly and Brock almost recoiled. He’d never even thought of hitting Jack before. Sure, they’d punch and shove each other around a bit, but it was all in good fun. Never aimed to hurt and certainly not aimed as a correctional tactic. Jack wasn’t some petulant child that needed to have the side of his face warmed to get a point across, at least, he never had been before. But during that moment, he almost seemed like it, and it put Brock off in a way that was beyond startling. 

Flexing his right hand, he watched as Jack’s gaze caught it and his SIC’s smile grew bitter as he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and taking another step forward. Brock didn’t move when Jack got closer, only tilted his head up to accommodate their height difference. 

“You wanna hit me, Rumlow?” Jack asked and Brock swallowed hard. It hurt that Jack would ever insinuate such a thing, that he’d think Brock could ever want to needlessly smack him around. Swallowing hard, he held his ground and straightened up a bit, setting his jaw as he stared into the green eyes he fell in love with that were slowly breeding resentment in his heart. Jack sniffed at the lack of answer, deciding to press further. “Do you want to hit me, Commander Rumlow?” 

Another bout of silence fell over them as they held each other’s glares. But eventually, Brock stood down, turning away with a low huff of ‘unbelievable’ while Jack straightened up and cracked his neck. 

“That’s what I thought.” He sneered, turning to the rest of the team. The team themselves had simply gotten ready, keeping their heads down as they followed Jack’s orders to infiltrate. By then, Lomack had the cameras pulled up and was able to guide Jack through the facility, allowing him to subdue their target and get him back up the hill without incident. 

The operation was an overall success and Brock really shouldn’t have been as pissed as he was. But something about having Jack undermine him in front of the whole team just got on his bad side. It was humiliating and Brock had never experienced something like it before. Jack was usually so in line, so willing to comply on and off the clock. But not this time. Brock tried to excuse it, tried to just blame it on the amount of time they’d been sitting out in the cold, tried to justify that they’d been out on that mission for nearly a week and that they all wanted to go home, but nothing he came up with soothed his anger. Forgiving Jack’s insolence wasn’t going to work for him. Something needed to be done. 

***

After a week of planning, Brock had finally decided on a punishment for Jack. it was simple, but it would work well enough to get his point across. 

At nearly midnight, Brock had caught Jack off guard. It’d been a rough day, he had his ass chewed out by Cap for getting too aggressive during a practice spar and really wanted nothing to do with anyone. That was until Brock told Jack to meet him the STRIKE Team locker room “after hours.” For Jack, that was after five, but for Brock it could be anywhere between five in the afternoon and three in the morning. Sometimes being a commander just had its downsides. 

Lucky for him, all it took to keep Jack’s attention was the promise of getting his dick wet. Brock remembered being Jack’s age. Twenty nine and still excited to chase any tail that sniffed in his direction, enjoying the last year of his twenties before he felt like he had to grow up all the way. Brock had stopped hooking up when he turned thirty three, deciding that his job was more important than trying to find someone to replace his right hand. Then he met Jack and for once, found himself getting chased. 

One thing he’d learned in the four years he’d known Jack was that the younger man liked adventure. He liked surprises and being taken off guard, a big contrast to Brock’s lament for the unexpected. But it worked in his favor sometimes. 

When Jack finally realized he was handcuffed to the old heater, he was more intrigued than anything else. He tested his binds, pulling against the solid metal and listening to the scratching noises the chain of the cuffs made against the column of the radiator. He looked up at Brock with the questioning tilt of his head as he knelt there, trusting green eyes doing there best to make Brock already regretted his decision. 

“Look at the wall. Await further instruction.” Was all he said, his voice lacking the sense of command he originally intended to achieve. But Jack did it anyway. Jack kept still as Brock did his best to tear open the back of his shirt. The fabric gave way, exposing the blackwork beneath. Brock had seen the tattoo before; ink of a raven and a barn owl mid fight that spanned across the expanse of his shoulders. When Brock had asked, Jack said something about two kinds of death fighting one another but he hadn’t really been paying attention. 

Undoing his belt, Brock watched as Jack perked up at the clinking of the buckle. Gears began to turn in Jack’s mind and once again he tugged at the cuffs, this time with a bit more urgency. But he didn’t turn around. Taking a deep breath, Brock looped the belt around to hold both ends in his hand, willing himself not to hesitate. 

“So you do wanna hit me.” Jack said indignantly, his voice quiet but not surprised. The way he reacted almost seemed as if he’d seen this situation coming. Brock debated on whether or not he should say anything. Jack wasn’t stupid, he knew how to put two and two together and he knew, in that moment, that he was being punished. A whole monologue wasn’t going to help any so instead, Brock decided to keep it short. 

“Didn’t think I’d let insubordination slide, did’ja?” He asked but Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head a bit, squaring his shoulders and readying himself for the beating. The way he reacted felt too prepared, like it was something that came naturally like riding a bike and Brock tried not to think too hard on it. Instead, he did the one thing he’d never done with Jack before. He followed through. 

The first lash wasn’t as hard as he’d planned and Jack didn’t really seem to be phased. The second was a bit harder and by the third, Brock had a good handle on how much force he wanted to use. Just enough to leave a welt, nothing that would break skin. 

He lost count after thirty, his anger taking over as he let himself take it out on Jack’s exposed skin. A part of him had the idea of pulling his SIC’s tact pants down and lowering his strikes in an attempt to give Jack the same feeling of humiliation he’d gotten but decided against it. There was a better way. 

At some point, one end of the belt had fallen from his hand and he hadn’t noticed until Jack coughed out a startled cry. Throughout the entire thing he’d been relatively silent. HYDRA taught him the whole order through pain ideal that it had Brock so it was a bit of a surprise to get a vocal reaction from him. That’s when he’d noticed that he wasn’t holding onto the buckle anymore. 

Looking up again, he spotted a long gash that spanned from just beneath Jack’s rib cage on the right side, across his back and ending above his left hip. The corner of the metal buckle glistened red with blood and that was when Brock decided Jack’d enough. 

“Next time,” Brock huffed, catching his breath as he watched Jack’s chest heave, slow and steady, while he dropped his head to rest against the cool metal of the dormant radiator. “You’ll remember this ‘fore you smart off to me on a mission, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jack grunted and Brock cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me?” He growled and Jack huffed, swallowing hard and biting his already bloodied lip. 

“Yessir.” 

With that, Brock dug the keys to the cuffs from his pocket. Jack’s eyes glinted with something akin to relief before that look died when he watched Brock toss them out of reach. 

“Have a good night, Rollins.” He said, turning on his heel to head out. 

The rest of the team found Jack the following morning, dark circles under his eyes, welts and bruises painting his back almost as dark as the ink on his shoulders. But they all knew what it was and no one said a word to Brock about it. Jack went through his day as normal, if not stiffly. 

And things could go back to normal. 

***

Things were supposed to go back to normal. He thought they had but apparently he was wrong and all he could do was kick himself for being so stupid. 

He’d been walking home from the bar that night. Kind of drunk. Usually that wouldn’t have stopped him but the bartender took his keys and told him she’d give them back to him in the morning. It wasn’t that far of a walk and he thought that when he got to his apartment that everything would be fine. The STRIKE Team wasn’t on call that weekend so he had more than enough time to nurse his hangover the next day and he planned on calling Jack to make amends. But things didn’t go as planned, per usual. 

After he stepped in the door, the next thing he knew was that he was on the floor, pressed against the bar in front of his kitchen for support. The new position had him sobering up quiet fast and he glanced up just in time to be disoriented by a boot to the side of his head. His attacker crouched beside him, blocking the light that had previously blinded him, and Brock finally glanced up. 

It shouldn’t have shocked him to see Jack but, there he was, taken completely off guard. 

“Hey, Rums.” Jack said quietly, reaching behind himself to tug something from behind him. The second he heard the metal clink together he knew what it was but it felt all too sinister to see the light glint against the silver of the handcuffs. The insides of the cuffs were still spotted with the dried blood from Jack’s wrists, the product of him pulling on them too tight during their little session. Brock could see that the cuts were healing nicely, the week old wounds nearly gone. 

“Remember these?” Jack asked, a grin crossing his face as he did. Brock couldn’t help the sigh that left him as he slumped further against the side of the bar, eventually dropping his head, oddly similar to the way Jack did a week prior. 

Jack seemed all too thrilled with this, watching Brock grow more helpless by the minute. And finally, a chuckle left him as he nodded, eyes glinting with the promise of vengeance while he spoke again, a single word confirming Brock’s horrors. 

“Yeah…” 

[kenshi-vakarian7]

MERweek2019 - Day 5 - Extreme Emotions

Event hosted by @cactuarkitty with fanfic prompts by @vorchagirl

Prompt - Write about a moment when emotions between your characters became a little extreme. Did their relationship become stressed? Did things get hot? Did loves almost break up? Drama, angst, smut, fluff - everything is on the table!

I can’t believe it took me over two years to FINALLY write my version of the High Noon mission.  After seeing this particular prompt, I figured now was the time to get it out there.  Honestly, I don’t think it really holds a candle to all the other amazing versions I’ve read, but I do hope you enjoy it regardless!

Also, please note that I DO NOT hate Sloane... it’s just how the story is since it’s written in the perspective of my Pathfinder, Kira Ryder.

---

“Untimely Grief”

“Ready, princess?”

Pathfinder Kira Ryder didn't usually let things get under her skin, especially things that would be considered petty and low.  Sloane Kelly's condescending tone with those words should've been one of them... and yet the words struck her as though those she was stabbed with a knife right through the gut.

Kira knew exactly why.  Had it been any other noun, it would've been so much easier to deal with.  Hell, even being called a bitch would've sufficed.

But no... it just had to be 'Princess.'  It had been years since called anyone ever called her that... more specifically, her late father.  

The noun jogged old memories Kira hadn't thought about since before leaving the Milky Way for the Andromeda galaxy – memories of simpler times of her childhood where Alec Ryder was an attache on the Citadel; how she looked up to him as her hero, who was proud of even her smallest achievements, and who wasn't as distant as he would become the older she got.  He was the reason she wanted to join the military.

She couldn't remember when he stopped calling her Princess, but she did remember realizing that he hadn't called her that for a long time at around thirteen-years-old.  And somehow, at that moment, the realization hurt more than it should've.  Between that, and the emotional distance he created, Kira eventually grew to resent her father.  It was easy to deal with while she attended Arcturus Academy in her high school years and, later, as an Alliance soldier since it meant not being around him all that much.  When she and the rest of the family were together, the most common companion at the dinner table was awkward silence.

It also didn't help when she and her brother Luke were discharged from the Alliance due to Alec's illegal AI research, nor the fact that neither of them could find a decent job in the aftermath.

After her mom died, it seemed to serve as a wake-up call of sorts for Alec.  It was only then, despite everything, that she and her father began to slowly mend the wounds that were left behind, and close the distance that was between them.  By the time they left for Andromeda, things still weren't perfect, but the mending process was still heading in the right direction.

They were barely in Andromeda when bad luck hit the family.  Not only was Luke in a coma due to a malfunction in his cryo pod after they hit the scourge, but Alec sacrificed himself to save Kira's and, for whatever reason, entrusted her his role as Pathfinder.  Since then, she had been constantly on the go with establishing outposts, dealing with the crummy half of Nexus leadership, maintaining morale for her crew, forming a trusting alliance with the angara, and trying everything possible to make sure that everyone who came to Andromeda didn't starve.

As she followed Sloane, the leader of the Outcasts, into one of the many hidden caves of Kadara, Kira realized that she never had the chance to mourn the loss of her father... and now she was forced to fight the floodgates that threatened to open and spill forth all the emotions she held in for months since his passing.

Of course this has to happen at the worst time, Kira thought as she struggled to get control of herself.  The last thing she needed was to break down right then and there, especially in front of Sloane.

She did manage to finally get a grip as soon as they reached an open space within the cave.  Kira focused on her surroundings... they were here because they were supposed to meet with the Charlatan, the leader of the Outcasts' rival gang, the Collective, to settle things once and for all.

Kira would be lying if she wasn't curious about who the Charlatan was.  After all, whoever they were, they seemed to have an interest in the Pathfinder despite never approaching her directly.  With the exception of her first day out in the Badlands, none of the Collective have tried to attack.  She later found out that they had orders not to harm her or her crew from one member with no reason given other than they were under the Charlatan’s orders.

Five seconds later, she figured out why...

“You look like you're waiting for someone,” a voice – a very familiar voice – spoke within the cave's shadows.

Kira turned her head to where the voice came from just as Reyes Vidal – a man she was slowly growing attached to since they met, with him introducing himself with the very same words he uttered moments ago - stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Seeing him standing there, a subtle frown on his face as he stared back at her, everything she knew about the Charlatan, the Collective, all the missions she and Reyes went on together suddenly fell together and made much more sense.

“Reyes?” Kira whispered, unable to hide the shock in her voice.

Sloane spoke up with disinterest, “I'm here for the Charlatan, not some third-rate smuggler.”

Kira glared at Sloane, who had her back turned to her, with a raised eyebrow.  She’s in denial.  She can’t be that stupid...  “They're one in the same,” Kira said.

“Surprise?” Reyes spoke up, his arms spread out at his sides as though he was emphasizing his reveal.

Between her whirlwind emotions from moments before, and now the shock of finding out who Reyes really was, Kira couldn't help but shake her head as, once more, she fought to get control of her emotions.  “So, did you really lie to me this whole time?”

Reyes didn't hesitate to reply.  “Not about everything.  You know who I really am.”

“Do I?” Kira couldn't help but ask with some contempt.

Sloane decided to get down to business, clearly not interested in their exchange .  “You said you wanted to settle things.  How?”

Reyes jumped down from the rock he was standing up before he faced Sloane.  “It's simple; a duel.  You and me, right now.  Winner takes Kadara Port.”

Kira's eyes widened in horror at his suggest.  A duel?!  She screamed in her head.  Reyes, what the hell are you thinking?!  Sloane's former Alliance military for crying out loud!

She wanted to shout these words to Reyes as panic began to set in.  Once more, she was forced to clamp down her emotions before she managed to calmly say to him, “You want to avoid war by shooting each other?”

“Two people shooting each other is better than a lot of people shooting each other,” Reyes reasoned.

Kira drew a quiet breath at that... knowing he was right.  This really was the best way to settle things between the two factions.  The rival between them was bloody enough as it was; worse for the innocent people who were caught in the middle of this gang war they wanted no part of.

“I'll take those terms,” Sloane accepted.

And then, they began to slowly circle each other, their hands close to their pistols.  Neither of them once took their eye off the other as they waited to see who would make the first move.  Kira stood in her spot, only able to watch what was unfolding in front of her.

Don’t die, Kira suddenly thought as she stared at Reyes.  Despite being mad about him keeping his secret from her, she knew he likely had his reasons.  It was irrational, she knew, but she didn’t care at this point.  All she cared about right now is that he survived the duel somehow.  I lost my Dad, and my brother is in a coma, and now I might lose y-

Her running thoughts suddenly stopped as she caught a glint within the cave's darkness.  Kira turned her attention to where it came from.  Despite the shadows, she was able to spot someone lying on their stomach watching what was unfolding in front of her.  She knew right away why they were there even before SAM mentioned it barely a second later.

Sniper, the AI alerted her through their private channel.  His sights are set on Sloane.

There was a split moment of relief; he wasn't there to kill Reyes... but she then realized that it was Reyes who brought the sniper here without Sloane's knowledge.  Instinctively, and for a couple of seconds, Kira thought about how wrong it was, how she can stop this duel right now.  She nearly took a step forward...

But then she stopped herself.  Looking at Sloane, Kira was reminded of all the horrible things she let happen here on Kadara.  The innocents who suffered under her rule, forcing them to pay protection before kicking them off into the unforgiving Badlands, not considering the needs of the angara who were here long before they arrived, among other things.

The Charlatan was not much better, but at the end of the day, they, no – he - her own feelings for him aside, was the lesser of two evils.

Kira also realized why a sniper was there to begin with. Sloane was former military.  Reyes was not.  It was a smart backup strategy on his part, as sneaky as it was...

With all that in mind, Kira didn't make another move...

The shot rang out and echoed against the cave walls. Sloane leaned forward as blood began to seep from her chest – right where her heart was – and she let out a pained gasped as she collapsed onto her knees.  Her eyes looked to Reyes, and then to the Pathfinder.  Kira read the single question in her shocked eyes – Why?

Kira, with her face neutral as she stared at Sloane, couldn't help her next thoughts.  I guess I'm not the 'princess' you thought I was...

And then, Sloane collapsed completely on her right side, her eyes closing as her life seeped from her.  As this happened, Kira was, once more, flooded with memories of her father and how he died to save her; memories of her brother who was currently in a coma on the Nexus with no way of knowing when he would wake up... if ever...

...And how she came close to losing Reyes today.

Kira didn't pay any attention as Reyes spoke to his sniper, who began to carry Sloane's body out of the cave to who knows where.  She didn't even realize that she fell to her knees and, suddenly, it was hard to breathe.  Barely grasping for her throat, she struggled to fully get air in her lungs.  She vaguely heard SAM say something, but she didn't catch what was said...

And then, someone pulled her to them and held her close...

Kira knew it was Reyes.  She should've been angry with him.  She should've been screaming and pushing him away, shouting to him about how he lied to her... but instead, she was tired. She was tired of the pressure that was on her shoulders, she was tired of fighting with the crummy side of Nexus leadership, she was tired of feeling alone in her struggle.  She nearly lost Reyes today, she wanted Luke to wake up already, and Dad, why did you have to die?!

The tears finally began to pour down her cheeks as she collapsed into Reyes's arms and sobbed into his shoulder.  Months of being on-the-go with no time to mourn her father, being worried about whether or not Luke would ever wake up, and now nearly losing the one person in Andromeda she come to deeply care for – it was too much to take, so much so that the vulnerability she dreaded to show to anyone was now out on the surface.

Kira wasn't sure how long she cried in Reyes's shoulder, venting out the mix of grief, pain, anger, and fear from her system. Eventually, the sobs subsided and she pulled back, though she didn't look at him right away.  A part of her wanted to bolt up and run away simply because she didn't want him to see her like this...

But she was tired... so damn tired...

Kira soon managed to pull away slightly to look Reyes in the eyes, despite knowing hers likely didn't look so great.  Looking at him, she was taken aback by what she saw – his lips were frowning, his eyes were dilated, and his eyebrows were furrowed.  It was all subtle, but she was able to read loud and clear that, whatever was running through his mind right now, he was frightened.

“Why didn't you trust me?” she ended up asking, her voice sounding more pitiful than she meant to.

Reyes reached a hand out to her face to wipe away the tears that stained her cheeks.  The features on his face seemed to turn less subtle and more clear.  Momentarily, he looked at the space that laid between them before he drew in a breath and gazed back up at her.

“I... wasn't sure what you would think,” Reyes finally said.  “I... liked the way you looked at me.  I was afraid that would change.”

It was Kira's turn to look between them.  She thought about the time they spent together ever since they met at Kralla's Song at the port.  It started out as them being nothing more than business partners, but the more time they were around each other, the more Kira... liked him, more than she had ever expected.  In fact, Reyes Vidal was the first person in Andromeda who made her feel normal and not just the Pathfinder.

“The thing about Reyes is that he always has a good reason.”  That was what Reyes's friend, Keema Dohrgun, said to her when they attended Sloane's party just a few weeks ago.  It was at the same party where they kissed for the first time – and where he let out a little of his own vulnerability over why he came to Andromeda in the first place.  To be someone...

She hadn't forgotten how soft his eyes would get when he thought she wasn't looking.  She hadn't forgotten the hopeful gaze he gave her after she kissed him in the storage room as a 'distraction.' And she certainly hadn't forgotten the way his voice growled in defense when his ex tried to involve her in their professional/personal dispute.  Even now, as she cried in his shoulder, he gently caressed her back and whispered in her ear in comfort despite her not catching what he was saying due to her not paying attention.

Kira wasn't thrilled about Reyes lying about who he was  she would’ve preferred being told the truth in the first place... but there was no denying that his actions, and the way he looked at her, told the truth about how he felt about her...

Thinking of all this, and with some caution about the future in mind, Kira made a decision... one that she knew she wouldn't hear the end of from her crew once they knew what happened here today.  But truthfully, she didn't care, because for one thing, she deeply cared for Reyes even before all this, and, well...

“Nothing's changed,” she finally said as she gazed back up at him.

His reaction was something to see, and it was almost like watching his mind process what she declared to him; there was a momentary shock in his eyes before he began to smile, almost in relief.  Then that same smile subtly transformed into something more... playful.

“You have bad taste in men,” he said, low and husky. He quickly closed the space between and pressed his lips to her, deep and yearning.  She returned the kiss with equal fervor just as they both held each other close, neither of them moving from the ground they sat on.

The kiss lasted a while until they were forced to stop in order to catch their breathes.  Kira moved to hug him closer, her face next to his.  “The worst,” she teased, her words whispered in his ear.

In response, Reyes kissed her once more, and she welcomed it.

[michaels-blackhat]

Me, watching you run

Remember when @reachedthebitterend wrote me a The Magicians AU? Well, remember how I have a habit of continuing things? So here we are... some dialogue taken from the previous installment to keep with consistency. Also, Rosa was not murdered and that’s all I have to say about that.

Also I’m on mobile so sorry for the lack of Read More

-

“You just walked away.” There is no emotion in his voice, no pain, no heartbreak. Hell, there isn’t even disappointment. All there is is one simple fact, and that fact is that Michael was given everything he wanted, was offered the thing he wanted more than anything, more than magic, and he just walked away.

“You should have known that this was it. This was the memory you worked so hard to forget. He loved you. He finally admitted he loved you. He was finally ready, and you couldn’t let yourself have one damn good thing.”

-

The figure in front of him was dressed straight from a Renaissance faire and Michael couldn’t take him seriously.

“So I have confront my worst memory, unlock a door, and hope that I find my friends and tell them I’m a live?”

The ren faire reject nodded.

“Should be easy. It’s not like I have 28 years of trauma.”

-

There was a plan and they were supposed to stick to it, but Michael knew the moment Alex said “I’ll do it,” that he would rather die than trap Alex for eternity.

“It’s ok,” he had said to the room at large. “I lived a full life. I fell in love, got married, had a family.” His smile was small and sad, nostalgia for a lifetime that technically didn’t exist. “I got everything I wanted. I don’t mind doing this.”

Michael couldn’t let it happen though. He couldn’t watch Alex die as a monster took over his body. He couldn’t let Alex sacrifice himself because he thought he had no future in this timeline.

“Alex, don’t,” Michael started but Alex cut him off quickly.

“As my friend, you should respect my decision.”

And didn’t that hurt, Alex’s constant reminder that that was all they were. Every “my friend Michael” and “you’re such a good friend” hurt. They hurt worse now than they had ever before. Somehow, it hurt worse when it was you doing the running.

-

Michael started with the murders and the coverups. Really, how could anything be worse than that?

“I don’t think this is the right place,” Fantasy Weirdo said as they watched Michael levitate three corpses. There was not a door to be seen anywhere in that god awful desert.

“How is there anything worse than when I helped coverup two murders? Lied to everyone I cared about? My first two uses of magic were to coverup murders!”

“But why did you do it? It wasn’t selfish, it was protection. There were bright points to these days.”

“You have to be crazy to think that there are any bright points anywhere.”

A screeching was heard in the distance.

“Excellent. Now I get to deal with physical monsters on top of my emotional ones.”

They fled the memory before they could be attacked.

-

Michael tried to kill the monster before Alex could trick it into his body and into the trap.

Michael should have thought this plan through more. The monster, in anger flew at Michael.

He didn’t remember the rest.

-

Max and Isobel were arguing about their summer plans when Michael heard a knock on the door. That wasn’t right. No one should be knocking on the house’s door now, it was too late and every student should have been in bed or in their own common areas. No one should be outside.

“I’ll get it,” Max had said when neither Isobel or Michael moved despite being closer to the door.

“No, don’t bother,” Michael had said, but Max ignited him.

The pounding grew frantic as Max made his way to the door. When he opened it, a man dressed in weirdly period, but obviously Fillory-influence clothing came in and slammed the door behind him.

“I have been trying to get into the Happy Place. Why would t you let me in?” He addresses his question to Michael, ignoring Max right in front of him.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about man.”

“We’re in your memories. This is your Happy Place, the one place we are safe from the monster.”

“Get out,” Michael has said, not wanting to deal with any ridiculousness. “Come on Max, make him leave.”

Max ignored him.

“He’s not really here. He’s a memory too. Just imagine he’s not here, see what happens.”

Michael did. Max disappeared. Well shit. Maybe the weird man was right.

“Huh, even in my imagination he ignores me.”

-

Somehow watching it happen all over again is worse than living through it.

-

“So every time we leave my happy place, we get attacked by weird dementor looking assholes. Or like, murderous birdmen.”

“Yes, which is why we have to stay in the Happy Place.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. I need to make sure my friends know I’m alive. How do I do that?”

“You don’t just get out. We’re in your mind, in your memory. The only way out, even for a few moments, is to find the thing your buried down so deep and confront it.”

“What was yours?”

“The day I left my home.”

Michael looked at the man in disbelief. That was it? That was his most traumatic memory?

-

Alex was gone in the morning.

Michael tried hard not to think about it, any of it. He tried not to think about Alex’s body under his own, Alex insistent lips, and his own hunger. He tried not to think about the heat in his chest, the heat of their bodies, the slick sheen of sweat on their bodies. He tried not to think about how damn happy we was when he fell asleep and the emptiness in his chest the next morning when he woke up alone.

There was no door in that memory either.

-

They needed a distraction, a shield to stand between them and the monsters.

“Who are they?”

Michael looked at Ren-Faire-Reject and then turned around.

“These,” he said with a vague gesture, “are my most terrifying friends. Max, during one of his ‘Liz doesn’t love me’ rages. Alex, that one time he punched Valenti in the face. And Isobel, who is always terrifying.” He gave his memory friends a small smile. “They have my back always.”

He and his friends moved toward the front door. Memory Isobel smirk.

“I wonder if I can melt a monster’s brain too.”

-

“It was kind of...”

“...beautiful.”

He and Alex stay in silence, broken only by the sob that Michael had tried to hid as laughter.

Michael remembers the feeling, the anger and resentment and pain. Michael remembers his bitter words even though he tried to forget them in the months that followed.

“You spent so much time angry that he kept running, that you never thought to ask why.”

Michael stares at himself as he stood on the steps with Alex next to him. Broken glass lay at their feet. Michael wonders if that was all that was broken that day.

-

Michael tried not to think about the scent, acidic and floral and strange. He tried not to think about the days of wandering, the week’s of waiting. He tried not to think about sharing a bed with Alex every single night and never touching him. He tried not to think about how he could tell Alex was in pain but he could do nothing, not without his magic. He tried not to think about the tiny tin of salve he made for Alex, and how that was apparently the tipping point.

He tried not to think about the fact that they spent fifty years together, in love and happy, and how he could never get it back.

It’s been months since that lifetime and Michael was exhausted. He didn’t know how Alex did this for years.

-

“What if you ask again, and I say yes?”

-

There was no door in the group home when they relived the exorcism and they lost memory Max to the monsters.

There was no door in the halls of the school library where he helped ruin Liz’s chance for revenge.

There was no door in any of the corners of his mind that he packed away. Not where he lost memory Isobel as they watched young Max and Isobel get adopted. Not when he buried a body at age 12. Not where he lost his engineering scholarship, though he definitely didn’t expect it there.

“Of course not,” said memory Alex. “If you kept it, you would never have ended up at Brakebills with me.”

-

“Do you want me Alex?” Michael’s voice was low, intentionally seductive. He had Alex pressed against the door to his room. Each sentence was punctuated by the roll of his hips and a kiss to Alex’s neck. “Do you want to date me? To be my boyfriend, be my lover, my everything? I feel like the world was frozen until you breathed fire into me. So tell me, do you want me?”

Michael closed his eyes as he watched. The answer had been no.

-

“This isn’t working. I suggest you just give up.”

Michael stared the weird Memory Guy. No way in hell was he giving up. “You have one friend left. You have no idea where your doorway out is. If you die here, you die for good. I suggest you stop and just enjoy your Happy Place.”

“Yeah sorry not an option.” Michael’s voice was flat. He confronted too many repressed memories today for any type of emotion.

Memory Alex stood off to the side. He kept his gaze on the list of potential memories to explore. All were crossed out.

“If you don’t mind telling us,” memory Alex said, “what was your memory?”

“It was he day he left home. Not every helpful.”

Alex looked at Michael, his gaze heavy. “I think that depends.” He turned to look at Memory Guy. “Why was it so awful?”

Memory Guy stared at the two of them in amazement. “What do you mean? I left home! Of course it was awful! I left the place that I was safe, where I was loved! I left the place that held everyone that I loved! I left them behind...” He trailed off, voice quivering and tears in his eyes.

Michael shared a look with his memory of Alex. It was an older memory, of when they first met. Alex was still in the tail end of his punk phase, nose ring and eyeliner. He looked completely different to the guy he was now, or the guy he was before a monster took over Michael’s body. Yet, he looked at Michael in the same way, the way that Alex used to say Michael looked at him with love and adoration. The way they looked at each other every day for fifty years.

“See,” memory Alex said. “It all depends. Home doesn’t mean much for us, not when we never had one. This,” he gestures around the house they lived in until recently, “this is as close as we’ve ever come. Remember what Maria said? Home doesn’t have to be a white picket fence...”

“It can be a person.”

Michael knew where he had to go.

-

“Apparently it only works if we don’t have any other choice.”

Michael watches himself break the glass and then break his and Alex’s hearts.

Michael watches as Alex turned away, as Alex desperately tries to hold his tears in, to hold back his sob with his hands. He watches Alex nod. “Okay, Sorry I brought it up.”

Michael watches as he draws closer to Alex. He remembers getting closer, reaching out his hand to offer comfort, to take it all back. He didn’t though. Instead he scoffed at himself and left.

Michael heats himself scoff, sees himself turn to leave.

“You spent so long being angry at him for never giving us a chance, and this is what you do? You tell him he’s scared and then you run away the moment he decides to be brave?”

Michael takes a step closer to himself, and then another and another. As he walks he says, “He asked you to give him a chance and you stomp all over it? You throw your fears in his face and say they’re inevitable? You were scared that someone so good could possibly love you for real, and you fucking ran.”

His footsteps lead him past himself, past the memory of the worst moment of his life, past the moment where he gave up his love and ran in fear. He makes his way to Alex. He faces the man he loves and cradles his face, the way he did every day for a lifetime that technically never happened.

“I’m gonna get out of here Alex. And when I do, I promise I’m gonna stop being a coward. I’m gonna stop running. The only running I’m gonna do is running back to you.”

He places a soft kiss to the Alex’s lips, an echo of how the memory should have played out but didn’t.

Behind him a rickety old door appears. Michael moves to open it.

-

In another place at the same time, the monster at the end of the world loses control over the meat suit he’s wearing. For the first time in weeks, the body’s eyes aren’t vacant. Now they are full of love. For the first time in weeks, the voice that comes out isn’t bored and malicious. When it speaks, Alex knows the truth. For one glorious minute it is Michael talking.

“I’m alive. And once you get this thing out of me, I will ask again, do you understand me?”

[aspiratinganxiety]

So I love when you rant and give detailed explanations about certain topics so: was Jason better off not being adopted by Bruce?

So, I’m not sure if you’re asking about any particular story line or alternate universe in which Jason is not adopted, and so I am going to answer under the assumption that you’re referring to headcanons floating around about the way things would have gone for Jay if he’d never been taken in as a Robin. 

Furthermore, I’m going to answer this with absolutely zero self-pity. Do not mistake my relating low-income struggles that were present in my life as bellyaching. There were a lot of reasons why things were the way that they were for me, and I do not need an ounce of anybody’s pity.

So, without further ado, Anon, as somebody who was raised in an incredibly low-income environment with violence, drug abuse, and all other manner of illegal activity going on in my home through my childhood into adolescence: No. 

Fuck. No.

Jason remaining in a dangerous environment, no matter how he thrived there, would not leave him in a state that I consider “better off.”

Simply through the lens of base needs, no fucking way. 

Being from a home without resources was literally the worst part of all of that nonsense. At least, for me. 

The emotional/physical abuse lingers, whatever. The drug and alcohol use was a wild ride to witness as an outside party, sure.  

Not having hot water for a shower? Not having more than two pairs of pants that weren’t pajamas and no place to wash them? Not having a toothbrush or anything but cold canned carrots from the food pantry for supper?

Not having pads or tampons as a scared 12 year old girl who then has to bear the humiliation of my school nurse going out and buying them for me because everyone knew that my family was too poor and the government subsidies weren’t being spent on keeping our home livable and providing for our needs?

Yeah. No. Jason Peter Todd was a clever, gifted child who would do well in any environment. That doesn’t mean that squalor suited him better than an emotionally stunted man-child that did the motherfucking best he could to love him and give him everything that he could possibly need and then some. 

Making Jason Robin and putting him in danger was like handing-over your keys to a car thief and accepting that you were gonna be calling your insurance the next day. Bruce didn’t have a lot of choices there. Jason already had a thirst. He already sought the thrill. The only thing Bruce thought to do was offer him proper skills, training, and equipment. 

Along the way, he loved him. Grew alongside him as a person and a father-figure. He guided him to the best of his ability, and when that backfired?

It broke him too. 

I was taken in by my eldest sister. Granted, she’s no Bruce Wayne and I didn’t oil myself up to slide into a neon crime-fighting get up. I did, however, provide so much childcare and support that I was the only person to cook, grocery shop, meal plan, or be allowed by the baby to bathe her and brush her hair by the time I was 16. My sister didn’t mean for me to take over so much domestic responsibility, it just happened that way.

I was a profoundly grateful people pleaser desperate to be somebody (anybody)’s favorite, and she had a husband who worked nights and so was basically functioning as a single mom with a houseful of 4 kids (plus me) to worry about.   

And I hurt for the nervous disorders she fed by expecting me to provide as much or, in some cases, more care to her home and children than she did. The unhealthy dynamic we fell into left me an anxious mess with little to no self-value as a human being if I am not providing others some kind of measurable benefit.

Five years out of her house and I have to work on this mentality every day.   

All the same, I got the opportunity to live in a home that was well-managed. I had clothes, food, showers and baths, school, and adults who were invested in my education and development.

Jason's situation is similar, in my opinion. He suffers for some of the damage done by Bruce. Ultimately though, he is better and more loved for having been his son.

Having the unique experience of being literally saved from a broken home (which Jason didn’t even fucking have. Poor baby was on his own) and lifted up into a household with actual disposable income, affection, education, and delicious produce regularly?

Jason Todd was the luckiest boy in the world. 

The depictions of Bruce and Jay that have them being nothing but violent and hateful toward one another hurt my heart so much, I cannot even express with words the pain I associate with it. 

I would like to note here that I do understand the abusive link between Bruce and a lot of his kids. Being idolized as a parent and literal hero sets you up for failure. Nobody can ever hope to live up to those kinds of expectations, and Bruce is all kinds of fucked up in his own right. 

The physical abuse and resentment I understand from both sides, though it kills me.

One can see how Jason returning as a man who lived to spit in the face of everything he worked so hard to foster in him would push Bruce over the edge into more progressively abusive behavior, where before he had been emotionally neglectful and selfish as a parent. Blind, even, to the non-physical needs of Jason. 

I 100% relate to Jason’s shock and horror upon being utterly disillusioned with his hero, the man acting as his father. 

He failed to save him. He failed to avenge him. While he was alive, he failed to understand him. 

What more can you do? 

Jason gave it all. 

He gave his life.

And he’s still not good enough for Bruce?

Fuck’s sake. I’d blow shit up and put heads in a bag too.

Damn. 

Anyway, TLDR: Though the unhealthy/abusive aspects of the relationship between Jason and Bruce are brutal and heart-wrenching for all involved, I do not think that Jason would have been better left to his own devices. He was a child who needed a home with enough resources to care for him. 

Bruce provided that.

Additionally, they love each other.

This, of course, is not an excuse for abuse. 

Canon or headcanon, doesn’t matter: I argue that the love between Bruce and Jason was the first time Bruce truly felt a parental connection. Dick was like a younger brother. A nephew. A darling student. It wasn’t until he could contextualize his affection for Dick through the channels he developed toward Jason that Bruce realized the reason he could never see Dick as an equal companion was because he held him in his heart as a child. 

His child. 

Like Jason. 

All families are fucked up. They hurt each other. They shape one another through pain as much as they do love.

I can’t handle the especially hateful and violent depictions of Bruce and Jason’s relationship. It literally kills me, and I actively disregard them as shittily written canon with no deep concept of characterization.     

Same for Bruce and all of his other children.  

[morsmordrehasbeensaved]

CONGRATULATIONS JESSIE, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS REMUS LUPIN WITH THE FACECLAIM OF ALFIE ENOCH!

Jessie — you know I think you’re an actual angel already, but for bringing us Remus and completing the Marauders? I didn’t know it was possible but I love you even more now. This was such a beautiful application and you really managed to capture his essence and character. I’m super excited to see him on our dashboards again!

Check out our acceptance checklist right here on what to do next!

♔ OUT OF CHARACTER INFO ♔

NAME/ALIAS: Jessie aka The WifeTM

AGE: 22

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY: EST, the bEST timezone. Activity is the same as normal!

TRIGGERS: REMOVED.

ANYTHING ELSE: REMOVED.

♔ IN CHARACTER INFO ♔

FULL NAME: Remus “Moony” John Lupin

BIRTHDAY AND AGE: 10 March 1960, 17/18 in game! I think we should celebrate.

PRONOUNS: He/Him

SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bisexual, Biromantic

EXTRACURRICULARS: Prefect, Charms Club, Dueling Club, and Magical Creatures Club are all perfect!

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

(+) Loyal — Afraid of the world turning its back on him, Remus holds his friendships dear. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for his friends. They have overlooked his greatest flaw, and so he does the same in return.

(+) Empathetic — Knowing what it’s like to live as the outcast, Remus can’t bring himself to make others feel as such. Though he takes no part in belittling others, to step in and stop such strife takes a courage he does not yet possess.

(+) Persevering — Even in his darkest moments, he remembers that there is also light. So much tragedy befell him at such a young age, but he has remembered that sometimes the most difficult tasks bear the sweetest rewards.

(+/-) Intelligent — Remus has a natural intelligence coupled with a studious nature that allows him to excel in his schoolwork.

(-) Reserved — Often quiet, he has learned to be content on his own. If everyone knew him to be the monster he was they would quite quickly shut him out. The pain of rejection has taught him to keep guarded and treasure the few friends he has already.

(-) Eager to please — His condition, though a big part of who his is, is not what Remus has chosen to define himself by. He has so much more to give and he is eager to prove that he is more than his condition.

(-) Insecure — Remus has known judgement and fear from a young age. Even those who assure him they see past his condition can find that Remus doesn’t always believe them.

BIOGRAPHY:

Trigger warnings: Self-harm, Depression

Remus John Lupin, even from a young age, had known of the evil that lurked in the shadows, the sounds and stories of the dark creatures who stalked the earth, and he knew of the mystery that shroud the things that go bump in the night. His father was an expert in such things after all, and what was there to be afraid of when your father, your hero, knew the secrets of every last monster and assured you that you were safe from them all? Perhaps that was why he slept so soundly that night, even at the tender age of five years old, when Fenrir Greyback slipped into his room from the window and changed Remus’ life forever. His own screams and the sting of claws in his skin and the bite on his shoulder were some of the most vivid memories he had of his childhood and they were the memories that replayed in his mind each night of the full moon where he became the monster of his own worst nightmares.

His condition had a name; lycanthropy. At least, according to some. Others termed it werewolfry, but Remus didn’t much care what it was called. Though his father could explain every facet and nuance of the condition to a scared and confused Remus, who now jumped at the very sight of the moon in any phase, Lyall Lupin, the famed expert in dark creatures, could not cure him. Neither could the hundreds of healers the Lupins took their son to, desperate to reverse the effects. Spending nearly everything they had and coming up empty-handed, it was devastating for Lyall and Hope when they finally accepted that there was nothing to be done and that their beloved son would be forced to live with this condition for the rest of his life.

Hope Lupin handled the news surprisingly well, though Remus suspected this was partly because she didn’t quite understand the condition as well as Lyall, but she always did have a particularly optimistic attitude even at the darkest of times. Her arms were always open, ready to pull Remus into a hug or sneak him bits of chocolate when he was feeling especially low. But despite her warmth, she could never fully ward off the chill deep in his bones at the approaching full moon. Still, she encouraged him to count his blessings and to find the silver lining behind every grey cloud and promised him that he was no monster.

Lyall Lupin had handled the news of his son’s lycanthropy much harder. Perhaps that was because he knew of the discrimination his son faced in the wizarding world, and the trials of his future. How could his son ever complete a proper education, find a job, or even someone to love him? Remus’ lycanthropy turned his father into a bitter man, the weight of his own guilt crushing as he took the blame for the attack when his son was so small. If only he hadn’t spoken out so publicly against Fenrir Greyback, if only he had placed additional protective charms over the home, then perhaps his son would not suffer from the monster he held inside. It broke his heart each night of the full moon to pull his frightened son out to the shed and lock him inside, listening to his screams as his sharp teeth and claws tore at his own flesh in his frustrations at the transformation and the confinement.

Each morning after, Lyall would unlock the doors of the shed, pull his son into his arms and weep with him before taking him inside to tend to his wounds. Hope would be just inside, dark circles under her red eyes from a sleepless night of listening to her little boy’s screams. Remus could see the burden resting on their hearts and at first welcomed their loving embraces, their gentle hands tending to his self-inflicted wounds, and the small pieces of chocolate they gave him with the promise that it would make him feel better. After a few years, however, he grew tired of the routine. Out of pain, fear, and confusion he would push their gentle hands away and lock himself in his room. A monster in a cage, he supposed. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? It was what he saw in the mirror anyway. He hated it, he hated the monster and the bitter resentment building inside of him. The shattered mirror couldn’t bring him seven years of bad luck when he was already living in hell.

Receiving his Hogwarts letter was not the joyous experience his classmates gushed about now and then when they recalled their fond memories. He only remembered his father’s hand on his shoulder, a choked apology, another warm hug from his mother and the bitter disappointment of losing something that he was supposed to have. Lyall promised homeschooling, that it would be safer and he would teach Remus everything he knew, but they all knew it wasn’t the same. The real joy came with Professor Albus Dumbledore’s visit where he assured the Lupins that Remus would be able to attend as any normal boy, with a few special accommodations to address his condition. Normal. Remus Lupin could be normal. With a chance for a fresh start amongst peers who knew him as nothing more than another student, Remus had eagerly promised Professor Dumbledore to do whatever was necessary to ensure the safety of the other students in order to attend.

Remus knew he was different from the other boys in his dorm or the rest of the students sitting around him in the Great Hall, however, and the weight of his secret was heavy on his shoulders. The fear of how his friends might react should they realize what he was, was even heavier. In second year, when Peter, James, and Sirius uncovered his secret, Remus had feared his time at Hogwarts was over. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew what he was, parents would write to the school to have him removed, and he would return home to his lonely isolation. It had come as a shock to him when the other boys didn’t run from him in fear, nor did they share his secret with anyone else. Instead they carried his books when his arms were too weak to lift them himself, they shared their notes when he fell asleep in class out of exhaustion from being up so late, and they covered for him when other students questioned his frequent absences or the marks on his skin.

Never before had Remus Lupin had friends like this, who saw his condition as nothing more than the occasional ailment. They overlooked his greatest flaw to see him for everything else that made him who he was. He did like charms class, and of course he knew what that creature was on the DADA exam. His favorite color was blue, and he didn’t think pumpkin juice was gross. He was a person, maybe a little different, but wasn’t everyone? Even the Prewett twins who were absolutely identical in looks had their own unique personalities and struggles as well. It was at Hogwarts that Remus Lupin realized that his struggle, though apart of him, didn’t have to define him.

In fifth year when his friends, his brothers, managed an incredible magical feat to become animagai did Remus find that the monster within could be tamed. It was only when locked away in isolation did his condition lead to frustration and rage, which manifested itself in the wounds he suffered for years. But with the company of his friends, and the freedom of the grounds of Hogwarts in the moonlight, he found that he was much more in control than he had ever believed he could be. Of course James and Sirius were able to keep his actions in check should they stray too close to the village, but after countless nights roaming the grounds and without a single fatality or injury caused by Remus, he found he was growing more comfortable in what was once his dreaded form and thus more confident in himself.

Remus had found his silver lining. For too long he had merely been coping with his condition, enduring the worst of it and trying to move on with his life otherwise. He had been successful in such endeavors, able to find happiness and peace despite his condition. To realize his friends had embraced his lycanthropy, and found a way to celebrate what made him different, well Remus realized that he didn’t have to merely cope any longer. For once, he didn’t dread the nights of the full moon, he looked forward to them. What had been his greatest fear for so long was something he actually enjoyed. Moving forward with a new confidence and a sense of true belonging, Remus flourished at school. He joined clubs, made other friends, he was even appointed as a Prefect. If he could do all of that, he supposed anyone could and he dismayed at the way the muggleborns and his fellow half-bloods were treated. He’d known discrimination for far too long and resolved to fight against it, eagerly joining the Order with his closest friends. After all, if his differences could be accepted and celebrated, shouldn’t everyone else’s?

ADDITIONAL INFO: If there was a way to attach my undying love for this rp and all of you to this app, I totally would.

[myso-calledlibraryy]

The Absolutely True Diary of  a Part-Time Indian

This book is GOOD. Not just well written, but GOOD. All the emotions of high school perfectly encapsulated into one novel that also tackles some bigger issues that go beyond puberty. 

The author Sherman Alexie is a Native American man who grew up on the Spokane Indian Reservation and now lives off the reservation in Seattle Washington. 

((beautiful heart shaped earrings made by a Spokane Indian from the Spokane reservation, gifted to me by my grandparents who visited the area in 2005. very unimportant information but cool !!! ))

He was born with a condition called hydrocephalus, which is just a bunch of extra fluid around your brain, but requires extensive brain surgeries. This led to Alexie having many health problems in his young age, and a self proclaimed “freak” because of the effect this had on his appearance. He lived on the reservation with five siblings and his mother and father. Both his mother and father were alcoholics, which is pretty much the norm for adults on the reservation. At 14, Alexie left the “rez” for the local white high school which made him stand out even more at home and at the new school. After high school he attended college with the hopes of being a pediatrician. After repeatedly fainting in his human anatomy class, a poetry class hooked Alexie to writing. 

Now this all seems incredibly boring (which it should not because the author is so important to the book, obviously) BUT Diary of a Part-Time Indian, is all about these issues Alexie faced. While it is not completely nonfiction, the book is essentially a memoir based on the time of Alexie’s life when he switched to the all white high school. During this year the main character, Junior, faces the tough loss of his dog in the very beginning and the tragic loss of his sister towards the end. In between this time Junior is dealing with the struggles of being bullied due to his appearance caused by the hydrocephalus. On top of all the loss and the bullies, Junior has a lot of normal high school problems that evoke emotions everyone can relate to. And on top of all of this is the central issue of racism, which Alexie addresses beautifully. While half joking but being very serious, this novel shuts down all stereotypes and lets us into the life of a young Indian boy living on a reservation. 

From the very beginning this book had me CRYING, and I do not mean a few little tears. Junior’s dog dies within the first like five minutes of reading and I was like okay I am going to be in for a ride. Not only does the dog die but the poor guy goes out Old Yeller style, which is just an image that has traumatized me since I was 5. So obviously I am already in pain, but as the mature reader I am I saw this as symbolism and allowed myself to move forward. Symbolism of the loss of his childhood?? Or maybe just me trying to pretend like this kid’s dad did not just SHOOT his dog. 

Now that the dog is dead I am sad and searching for something in this book that can make me happy again.

In walks, Rowdy. 

Not only is Rowdy Junior’s best friend, but he is also a ~bad boy~ which I kind of have a thing for, sue me! The big tough guy being friends with the little loser and it’s not even out of pity? bingo, I am HOOKED. 

Rowdy and Junior get into quite the fight when Junior decides to go to Reardan. Rowdy is pissed his best friend is about to leave him, but he is also definitely a little jealous. Rowdy doesn’t really want to go to school with Junior but he has some resentment towards the fact that Junior is moving on. After Junior’s school beats the rez school in a basketball game, it seems like the two are never going to mend things. 

THANKFULLY the character development of Rowdy is exceptional. He realizes just because Junior is moving on from the rez it doesn’t mean Junior is going to move on from him. Boys putting aside their manliness and understanding that they love each other so much and just want what’s best for each other is ~magical~. Like seriously literary genius I have no idea why but it just does something to a person’s heart. 

So to wrap that one up, Rowdy is my main character because I 100% would’ve had a crippling crush on him in high school. 

While I am crushing on Rowdy, Junior get’s himself a little white girlfriend, who’s not his girlfriend but is basically his girlfriend while not being his girlfriend at all; what a weird thing we are all way too used to. Her name is Penelope and I literally hate that so much. He is completely enamored by her because a girl has never even looked at him before, and she is just one of those. Like one of those girls who is obviously going to date the new boy so then everyone will talk about her and she is just so worried about not being what everyone thinks she is even though that is exactly what is. Disclaimer; I definitely would have hated Penelope in high school and she definitely would have bullied me. 

Penelope was the only character in the whole book that put a bad taste in my mouth... but in a good way? She had visible character development after Junior helps her with her bulimia, but she is still a bitch and does not love Junior the way he deserves to be loved. 

The other two main girls in Junior’s life are his sister and grandmother. Grandmothers are automatically my favorite character because my grandmother is my best friend and an angel. Junior loves his grandmother this much too and he makes it very obvious. His sister, he more so pities because she is way too old to still be living in her parents basement. But he loves her nonetheless and she is definitely one of the biggest influences for Junior’s switch to the new school. Mary had plans to go to school and fulfill her dreams but she ended up in a rut like all the other Indian’s and Junior wanted to be better than her. 

To make Junior’s life a literal living hell, even more so than it already was, both of these women die within his first year at the new school. Oh and to make matters even worse the grandmother gets hit by a drunk driver and the sister gets so drunk she passes out and burns alive in her home. If you thought I was sad about the dog, boy let me tell ya I was not well. 

Alcohol takes a serious tole on the lives in Indian communities. This is not a stereotype this is a real life thing. Most people on the rez are alcoholics, and most of them die because of it. Junior has to deal with this for his whole life and so does everyone else. 

Having dealt with alcoholism in my family my whole life this really struck a cord for me. Poor Junior was literally going through every one of my worst nightmares all at once and I just wanted to give him a hug. But while I was feeling this way, I selfishly just wanted my Rowdy to be the one to come in and save the day. (yes he is my Rowdy I do not make the rules here)

For once in my life my selfishness was actually not selfish at all because this is exactly what happened. 

Rowdy doesn’t make some big gesture or anything like that, but the boys become best friends again and that is all that matters. After wrapping up his first year at Reardan, Junior is down on life in general but feeling good about the switch he made. The only thing that would make it 100% better would be Rowdy. And thank GOD the two are able to be teenage boys and put their difference behind them after a little one on one bball. 

Not only do Rowdy and Junior become friends again, but Rowdy delivers a speech that is like no other. Rowdy low key professes his love to Junior (in a friend way) and it so inspiring. Rowdy admits that he doesn’t want Junior to forget him but that he wants nothing more than for Junior to leave the rez. Rowdy wants Junior to be the best, because that’s what he knows he can be. 

Again, I cried over two boys showing their love for each other but this is something we never get to see and it is special. And this is the ending so in reality I would have been crying no matter what. 

So yes again this book is like REALLY sad, but not in a bad way that makes you want to put it down. In a way that makes you truly think and keeps you hooked to the content of the book. 

And it is also so HAPPY. Obviously we know that Alexie became a big time author but just looking at it as Junior we know that everything is going to work out for him. 

I spent hours trying to perfectly describe how this book made me feel until it hit. It made me feeling EVERYTHING. 

That feeling when you’re a freshman in high school and the senior boy you have a crush on makes eye contact with you and suddenly you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing but it doesn’t matter because he LOOKED at you. 

That feeling of eating lunch alone at a table because no one wants to be your friend. 

That feeling of being left behind while you sit home and watch everyone succeed without you. 

That feeling of just pure loneliness where your thoughts are so loud but at the same time is everything is quiet. 

That feeling of grief that actually feels like a piece of your body went on with that person and you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to get it back.

That feeling of your first heartbreak.

That feeling of a friend break up is a lot worse than a boy break up. 

The whole novel is just one emotion after the next, but so many stick with you after. 

If I had to rate this book I would give it a “makes you cry in the best way, while also making you laugh”...the emotions a novel can evoke are so important to me, and The Diary of a Part-Time Indian gave me all the feels. 

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In addition to all of these things Part-Time Indian was able to tackle the issue of racism in a way that is a little new. Having it come from the point of view of a child, with the intention of a YA audience, you do have to write things in a less serious way. Alexie was able to do this without ever actually “dumbing” anything down. It is so absolutely important for this to be a conversation in YA novels because this is a conversation that has to become real. We cannot be afraid to read books that involve racism because it needs to be talked about on all levels, especially with young people. 

[androsswannabe]

Interview with your Muse!

Tagged by: @deadworlddenizens

Interview with your Muse!

Pick one of your muses.

Fill in the questions/statements as if you were your muse in a new post.

DON’T REBLOG!

1. What is your name? "Andrew Oikonny, the one and only true heir to the great Emperor Andross."

2. What is your real name? Andrew rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance, "I just stated it."

3. Do you know why you were called that? "I can assume it's because they had high hopes for me. Andrew is an impressive name after all!"

4. Are you single or taken? "Single."

5. Have any abilities or powers? "I am rebuilding an empire, of course I have many abilities!" A puff up of his cheeks in annoyance, "I'm a pilot, mechanic, and I've been studying many military strategies. I have many more if you're curious, but I"m not going to tell the likes of you."

6. Stop being a Gary Sue. "How dare you," Andrew narrowed his eyes, "I am most certainly not! I may have made one in the past, but I will let you know that I grew out of it! It was a phase.”

7. What’s your eye color? "Gold." He proudly crossed his arms.

8. How about your hair color? " ... A typical light gray, a lot what you'd see in many macaques."

9. Have you any family members? "The Emperor Andross and Herbert. The rest of my family is either deceased or Dash Bowman, which I doubt we're ever going to be in contact."

10. Oh? What about pets? "I stated this once before, but I wanted a Goras but never got it. Besides, the way I live currently doesn't make it good for pets ..." Andrew  grumbled.

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like. "Everyone knows about my hatred for all things allied with Corneria so I will outright say something else instead..." He paused, “I don’t care for people insuiating about me in general. I don’t think many people care to hear it, but it’s one thing that annoys me in particular to the point it’s hard for me to restrain myself.”  

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing? "Oh! I am always trying to catch up with some old shows I used to watch!" Andrew grew a surprisingly bit excitable, "I watched the Saga of the Cosmic Champions! It was an amazing space opera, the only problem is that it's so expensive to get, so I still haven't got it legally yet ... It's over a hundred episodes, and while many people could sit through that with their little sitcoms, slice of life, drama or harems shows, this is different! If you miss one episode, you'll potentially miss something of great narrative importance."

Oikonny sighed, "... When it comes to similar shows now days however, it's rare they care as much of the story as they used to. But there's always some glimmers of hope here and there, it's just the lack of funds I currently have to get whatever I want." The monkey pouted, "It would be so much easier if it was like when I was younger..."

13. Ever hurt anyone before? "Yes, and they all deserved it."

14. Ever….killed anyone before? "Yes, I many down a lot of other pilots." The arrogant monkey scoffed, "I was trained to do it after all. And I have no problem eliminating traitors either, so you best not underestimate me!"

15. What kind of animal are you? "I'm a macaque. I don't know what kind though..." The tail in question is what made him wonder, otherwise he was positive he was some type of Japanese or Formosan Rock Macaque. Maybe he was a hybrid? Who knows.

16. Name your worst habits. " ... My temper sometimes gets the best of me, which I have been doing my best to control." This is the at most the only flaw he could admit about himself willingly.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all? "... Outside of the Great Emperor which everyone knows, I looked up to many figures for their expertise and knowledge! The ones that come to mind are Wolf for his strength, authority, and his skills. Leon for his calculation, ruthlessness, and his concentration to be perfect. Pigma for his brilliance, cunning, and his drive." A thoughtful pause, "Even if me and Generalissimo Baal are no longer on good terms, he was always a man of powerful virtue and a presence that could not be denied. Captain Shears is also an accomplished genius and from what I heard, was a rising star in becoming the General in the Cornerian Military..."

 Oikonny frowned, as he was discussing the people he idolized, " There was even a short time, I looked up to Algernon ... before... well things happened the way they did." While he never got along with the man, he did feel a bit bad the way things went down with him.  But the simian cheered up.

"But I look at all their strengths, and try to model myself after them to the best of my ability!"

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual? "That's ..." Andrew's face was growing extremely red, "That's none of your business!"

19. Do you go to school? "Briefly, but I was soon pulled out due to frequent disruptions. Getting into fights every day was greatly frowned on." Andrew stated nervously.

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day? "... Only after I conquer the Lylat System. Then I can finally settle down and choose who I please. I'm sure there will be many." Andrew grinned.

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls? "Not that I'm aware of, but that's better for me either way." The arrogant macaque found himself blushing im embarassment though.

22. What are you most afraid of? "I'm not afraid of anything!" Andrew defensively yelled. But then quietly added after a moment of deep thought, "Except flying squirrels."

23. What do you usually wear? "When I'm not in a proper regal official uniform or my outfit for our glorious rebellion, I'm wearing my old coat and clothes from Star Wolf." He twists his hands together out of nervous habit, "At least they let me take my clothes." Andrew quietly mumble.

24. Do you love someone? "Does it look like I'm in any condition to be in a relationship? Do you honestly think I’m going to be seen as attractive?" Andrew gave a deeply resentful and bitter comment.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself? He grit his teeth, "That's disgusting."

26. Well, it’s not over yet! “There better not be more like that above.”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class) "I should be royalty, but at the moment I am unbound the caste system. But worry not, I shall make it anew!"

28. How many friends do you have? " ... That's nothing for you to concern yourself with." Andrew stuck his nose in the air.

29. What are your thoughts on pie? "Wonderful! I haven't been able to perfect it yet, but I hope I can successfully bake some picture perfect sweet potato pie!" Clenching his fists but he chooses to smile, "But I just need to keep practicing!"

30. Favorite drink? "Oh that depends, I like a lot of drinks..." Andrew scratched the back of his neck, "But I stay away from alcohol, that brings out the worst in me."

31. What’s your favorite place? Andrew seemed somber, "It doesn't matter. I can't go back to it."

32. Are you interested in someone~ "No." The macaque flatly voiced his response.

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy? "That's disgusting. You're absolutely vile for even asking me this." Andrew narrowed his eyes.

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean? "The lake, hypothetically in this situation."

35. What’s your type? Oikonny snorts,  "That's nothing for you to concern yourself with, I have to fufill the Great Andross' revenge before even thinking about such a thing."

36. Any fetishes? His fur goes on end, "Will you stop it with these types of questions? You realize I'm not going to answer them, correct?"

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive? Andrew glares in complete exasperation, not saying a single word.

38. Camping or indoors? "I had to get used to camping ever since I got kicked out of Star Wolf," Andrew stated dryly, although there was a bit of flippant cheeky humor with the situation.

39. Are you wanting the quiz to end? "Considering it was a disgusting one full of lewd commentary -- yes."

40. Now it’s over! Tag five people: "No."

Anyone who wants to do this meme though can feel free to do so however with their characters!