#he still HAS that trauma fellas. hes still going to be living with it. its just gonna be easier now. thats part of healing besties

[writer-room]

You ever just see people talk about the Percy Jackson books and know somewhere, deep in your heart, that none of these people have understood that this is a series made for middle schoolers. And that fandom will very frequently lie to them like, all the time. No, that character probably isn’t ooc, you’re just thinking of what the fandom turned them into. No, this book isn’t a horrible stain next to the others before it, literally all of them were like this. It’s Percy Jackson. It’s cheesy and occasionally makes a very questionable writing decision.

You gotta be in this for the long haul or jump ship my guys. Be cringe and free or be gone

#percy jackson #tsats #solangelo book #rick riordan #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #the sun and the star #text post #yall are astounding me in ways i didnt know was possible god bless #also this was mostly written by mark not rick. like yes he signed off on it but still this is mostly mark #but its still Fine??? its fine?????? besties a book abt our favorite gays not being perfect is not the end of the world #did i cringe? hell yes. but was i free? tremendously. and i had a lot of fun i think #'bianca is in elysium but she was reincarnated??' yeah thats odd. anyway that scene was cute wasnt it #'everything is so on the nose' yeah its for middle schoolers and percy jackson isnt known for subtlety. its very rare #'will was ooc' weve literally barely gotten anything on him and no povs until now this IS establishing his character #'the puffs remove nicos whole trauma' no it doesnt. its a fantasy way to sort of explain that nicos trauma is now open instead of repressed #do i wish it wasnt sometimes explained as 'now the trauma is gone'? yes. but i think its moreso meant to be a way of nico dealing with them #he still HAS that trauma fellas. hes still going to be living with it. its just gonna be easier now. thats part of healing besties #also we dont know how these puffs are gonna act in the future so like. hush. shhhhhhhhhh. shut. it was literally never going to be perfect #its pjo. i love this series to death but. its pjo. it is. in fact. sometimes badly written. as it has been many times before in books before #and what else??????? it may not be written the greatest but its MY series that isnt written the greatest square up

[kidddoz]

Maurice Headcanons!!

Maurice 20/08/1932 (Leo), 12 years old.

Half English (mom), half Italian (dad). I know he gets in so much trouble while visiting his nonna! Imagine a sunny Sunday and an old lady yelling "MAURIZIO!" because her grandson ate all the tomatoes that were going into the sauce for pasta.

His hair is controversial. His hair is parted in the middle, but before the island, it was super easy to brush it down and make it stay in its place. During and after the island, his hair goes BOOM, the fluffiness arrives, and it is impossible to make it stay in its place. The worst thing is that he doesn't care at all.

His dad is a marine biologist!! Whenever his dad is in another country, he brings Maurice souvenirs, mostly magazines and other things that he adores because he looks for original jokes in the humour section to tell at school. His humour is pretty much a mix between already-made jokes and ocean facts. He is also great at making up stories because of this.

He is an only child, and he is super spoiled. I would confidently say he has one of the most healthy relationships with both his parents. He's just a happy kid (maybe too happy).

In other conditions, Piggy and Maurice could have been besties. Maurice is a Physics nerd while Piggy's a Chemistry nerd, so they'd go to Piggy's aunt's sweet shop to do homework.

Related to that, he is super sweet-toothed. You can convince him to do everything if you are offering him something sweet. He had a lot of trouble on the island because the only mildly sweet things were fruits, and of course, he hates veggies and fruits. It was his hell.

During his teens, his humour grows darker and bitter, including making witty remarks now and then. It might seem he's fine after the island, but has a bunch of unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as using humour to the point of being horribly insensitive to others and even triggering other's traumatic events.

It is quite surprising seeing that he has no healthy coping mechanisms, even if he has a good family circle. That is because his parents, although being great caretakers, always push him to smile or not cry because those problems will eventually pass. I guess his issues derive mainly from repressed feelings and no space for him to digest trauma.

After coming back, he grows closer to Jack, which is super surprising for everyone. The thing is that Maurice leaves the choir once they're back in England but only keeps in touch with Jack, becoming a pen pal almost instantly and never losing contact. Jack doesn't mind this, he thinks Maurice is one of his most genuine friends, if not the only one.

Something inside him still needs closure about the island, so he keeps contact with everyone who was on the island incident, and I mean EVERYONE. He researches and sends a lot of letters to everyone. However, he maintains some distance from the littluns.

He might tend to develop a lot of addictions because of his constant need for short-term happiness. Enjoys gambling, alcohol and whatever that can entertain him.

During his late teens, he starts living in France and finds a job in a newspaper agency! He loves his job and found out that learning French is easy for him, so whenever he visits England, he is like, "Bonjour, fellas!".

Of course, he loves the French ladies or ladies in general. He's such a Casanova, or at least that's his mental image. Even if he's quite famous among the ladies, he never ends up with a girlfriend lol.

He loves the idea of being a reporter but has heard about the new stand-up comedy in America, and he is willing to try.

This is more of a theory than a headcanon, but I firmly believe Maurice's name is based on "Maurice, or the Fisher's Cot" from Mary Shelley. Please look it up because the whole story brings me to tears, but I think there are too many coincidences, and it reflects so well on Maurice's character.

#lotf #lord of the flies #lotf maurice #hes such a kinnie #tried to make this short bc most of these hc will end up in future fics

[twsthc]

oooo if you ever wanna talk abt caters system my dms are always open!!! :D also i wish you luck on your journey, ik how confusing it is in the beggining (i have did) ,,,, im sure youll figure it out, slowly! and i know some stuff abt it so if you want to learn lmk :]

i also have a hc of ortho osdd-1a or 1b :3c im not so sure on the specifics but ye

now to the rambling!!!

for floyd i go off some HCs i have for her, like him having the adhd + autism + bpd combo, which makes him a very unstable fella. i also HC that the coral sea was Rough, principally where he comes from, so the circumstances werent at her favour and Boom, did system

some of his alters are sea-life based, but brainmade, with a ton of diff species! the others are based off songs she likes & characters she sees herself in/relates to! sometimes the characters resemble jade, too. theres only a few trauma holders, most are protectors or soothers, and some persecutors!

theyre like. that weird, big family down the street. they all like each other a lot but they looove to bicker and brawl and all of that. ALSO all of them Love jade too! they see him the same way they see floyd :D shes included in their weird family, floyd says shes an honorary member of his system!!

iii think his inner world would be like. a beach house! close to the sea and such, cause hes a mermaid but he also likes having legs. so beach house it is! its veey big and lively! i also think hed learn it after he comes to land, maybe in the middle of his freshman year, but he wasnt very affected by it. hes also very open about it he does not give two shits lol

for riddle... its canon that her childhood was shitty, ever since she was old enough to talk & walk, so its no wonder hes a system too lol. i hc her as autistic + bpd and that heavily influenciated the whole splitting too

she has some brainmades, mostly based on flowers & animals (ladybug & rabbit), But i also HC that she has some alters from an old novel she red while small ! one he loved soo much and his brain split the guys. i even have their roles (soother, protector, gatekeeper, and some others) but anyways! most of her alters are either from books or brainmade, and theres a shitton of trauma holders. she has like only 1 or 2 guys from songs cater showed her and Thats It. no more song guys lol

most of them are either very smart and prideful and all of that, or theyre sillay. very funny fellas, love having fun, but still smart as hell !

after her overblot he like. split three or five more in a week 😭😭 it sucked ass and he had an awful headache for days. + he was only made aware of her system After the overblot, during the recuperation week, bc the other alters went to check on her, and it was. Something. she told cater & trey right away and they helped her navigate it all, then she told adeuce duo too and some other few close friends!

i hc that her inner world is a big ass red white pink and black castke, in the middle of a very dense florest, with a maze and all. the fauna & flora are kinda diverse and all ! very pretty :]]

also i am. a big fan of florid..... and i think theyd start dating someday. and when they do. they turn into partner systems (if u dont know what it is lmk) and lots of other alters from their systems start dating too lol. they take turns to stay w their s/o.... theyre all so annoying and cute

(i have some names for their systems too.... rosewell for riddle's and vortice for floyd's... yay)

and PLLSS tell me abt kalim osdd . if u want. i love him so much hes my special gal !!! im interested in the HC :D it makes sense. in mah head

anyways hope the rambling entertained you!!! the voices in my head told me my HCs and to me these voices are right. theyre very real

⚠️ mention of kidnapping

OKGGMGMNE i love this. all of my alters hate me #cantrelate floyd. i will be n ur dms soon...

for cater i have an entire google slide of alters that's unfinished but ill send that to you later :3

i don't really have much to add.. very cute very real.. 5 stars would dine again..

UHH ALSO KALIM OSDD3 i think when shes distressed she disassociates for a few hours and after jamils OB she was out for a week; her brains response to the kidnappings and other traumatic shit she was put thru. i don't hc her to have alters tho! one of my RAMCOA friends hcs her to have HC-DID tho!

i also think the human brain is super interesting.. i was wondering how traumatic events would effect merpeople/beastmen differently so it's interesting to see someone hc floyd as someone affected by his upbringing. i think there's a thin line of difference between what's considered normal/traumatic for humans and non humans (for example, jade being implied to eat his and floyds siblings is considered normal, but would the violence down there be?)

#twsthc ask

[goji-pilled]

Okay @princekirijo you want an essay? Well here it is now, or as I like to call it Felix's "Asumari is great and this fandom has no fucking taste" rambling and infodump. Congrats fellas, thanks to Prince you ALL get an asumari essay. But before that I'll try to give you a rundown of Mari and Asuka. 

(I'm also so sorry for putting this long ass post on everyone's dashboard)

(Spoiler warning for Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time!!)

Alright on one hand we have Mari Illustrious Makinami. Her whole deal? She's a walking ray of sunshine, literally lol. Unlike any other character in the Evangelion franchise she doesn't suffer from her trauma, she's quite literally the only healthy and functioning human being, she's just slightly leaning towards "batshit crazy" with the stunts she pulls 🤷‍♂️. Other than that she just loves living, she loves being with people, she keeps moving forward, stays positive and decides to live life to it's fullest even after she experiences loss and multiple apocalyptic events (Second Impact, Third Impact, etc.) and she really just embodies the joy of living. That's all there is to her, or at least all we know.

On the other hand, we have Asuka Langley Shikinami who is... well it's hard to explain what she is to be honest. She's part-German and part-Japanese and part of a line of clones specifically made with the purpose to pilot an Evangelion and later on be used as a sacrifice to trigger another Impact (ITS COMPLICATED I KNOW-) Asuka is, unlike Mari, very much suffering from her trauma. She doesn't have her parents and has a very deep seated belief that she's completely alone, which she says doesn't matter as long as she can pilot the Eva. She also very much wants to fight and kill angels all by herself, and it's seriously messing with her when she can't achieve that.

Now we get to the more interesting parts (hopefully this so far wasn't too confusing, then again it's Eva and even I can't fully wrap my head around it all LMAO)

In the second Rebuild movie (Evangelion 2.0 You can (not) advance) we get introduced to both of them, Mari's introduction scene (in the original English dub) has her pilot an Eva and singing about how she'll take the world on by herself, while in the third movie's (Evangelion 3.0 You can (not) redo) opening scene she's piloting the Eva again but this time it's together with Asuka (in her own Unit 02 though) and during that Mari sings about how wonderful it is not to be alone. It's nothing big yet, but it's a really cute detail me thinks,,, you know what else I love about them? They bicker and they banter and it's genuinely so fun to listen to shskdhsuwj

(For a quick catch up: During the end of 2.0 Shinji (the protagonist) triggers another apocalyptic event, the Near Third Impact, and was only stopped due to Kaworu (the guy in my pfp) stepping in. Also between 1.0/2.0 and 3.0/3.0+1.0 are about 14 years (without Shinji bc he's like comatose) where A LOT happens AND we learn in 3.0 that Eva pilots don't age physically bc of "The curse of the Eva"... honestly Eva is wild lmao)

Okay okay I'll get back to it!

So one thing that happens is that Asuka during 2.0 develops a crush on Shinji (girl why-), unfortunately things take a turn for the worse. Asuka had volunteered to be the testpilot for a new Eva (Unit 03), she seemed happy at the time and it was a really sweet build up with the "I can smile, I didn't know I could still do that."-line. And then? Then it turns out the Ninth Angel had infected Unit 03 (Angels are basically the Kaijus they fight using Evas btw). The thing goes on a loose and Shinji is forced to fight it (With Asuka inside mind you), he refuses and his father uses an autopilot to destroy Unit 03. And boy did it destroy the angel, well it and it crushed Asuka between its jaws (you can actually hear her scream btw haha pain :)).

Asuka survived though, but the whole incident cost her her humanity and she ended up becoming an angel herself/she took the place of the Ninth. But despite that, there's one person who keeps believing in Asuka's humanity, who fiercely believes Asuka is still a human and tells her as much.

Yep, that one person is Mari and she keeps holding onto that belief until the very end when Asuka uses her last resort, which is using the power of an angel (Doing so was a guaranteed death sentence btw). Mari's own words (in the German dub) were, "Princess, you're giving up being human…" AND IT MAKES ME SO EMO GOD FUCK

While I'm at it, Mari and Asuka are a fucking killer combo as a team. They rely on each other for support in combat, listen to the other's orders and advice. Especially in Asuka's case it's kind of a big deal that she so openly relies and counts on Mari's support. Like these two trust each other with their damn lifes!!! Holy shit!!

Guess what though, they also have nicknames for eachother. Mari always calls Asuka "Princess" or "(Your) Highness" while Asuka calles Mari "Four-eyes" / "Four-eyed chrony (idk how you spell that tbh RIP" Even better though, in the German dub Asuka calls Mari "Brillerella" as in a combination of "Brille" (German for glasses) and "Cinderella",,,,Cinderella and her Prince,,,Brillerella and her Princess,,, man, that was a gay fucking move of the translation team. Spoiler: I owe them my life.

Funfact: There's exactly two times throughout the Rebuild movies where Mari uses Asuka's actual name. These two times being when she watches Asuka "die" and be used as a sacrifice for Gendo's selfish plan and when later on she begs Shinji, "So please the Princess… Asuka needs your help!" And the best part? That wasn't even the first time she did that. The mentioned line came from 3.0+1.0, but she did that too in 3.0 with the, "At least save the Princess!" line (although her tone was much more...pissed, like she was really angry lol)

Remember the crush Asuka had on Shinji? Well due to the Unit 03 incident a whole lot of other shit got mixed into that and her feelings for him in general became really bitter (understandably so). Now Mari being who she is sometimes teases Asuka about said old crush but she really does want Asuka to get closure and sort that mess out. 

As an example for the teasing, in 3.0 there's a scene that goes like this (please imagine Mari with a literal :3 face while saying that):

"Unit! Are you back in the game?"

"I'm on it, your Highness. But first things first, how was our little puppy (Shinji)? Did he sit like a good little boy?"

"He's exactly the same! Same stupid face talking mayhem!"

"That goofy face of his, that's what you wanted to see? Riiiiight?"

"Shut up! I went there to bat him one!... And I feel better!"

There's also a very short bonus manga that was released in Japan for Thrice Upon a Time's release that has Mari trying to convince Asuka to come with her on the mission to get Shinji, given everything that follows, it's just another thing to prove my point. And the final bit relating to that is this:

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I do feel better."

That's the exchange Asuka and Mari have after they talked to Shinji, it's nothing special but I think it's really sweet and this time Asuka actually sounded like she was feeling better instead of when she was screaming after she nearly broke pretty thick glass with her fist (If she had hit someone with that much force she definitely would've broken something omggg #violentimpulsesgang)

To get back on track though: I already mentioned it but during the second half of 3.0+1.0 Asuka "dies" (and honestly that entire scene is worth its own in-depth post because its just one huge parallel to The End of Evangelion), the point is: You can tell that the loss of Asuka honestly hits Mari hard. Not only because of how Mari screams Asuka's name but also because of her expressions. They're pained, like really fucking pained and Mari even apologizes to her that she has to fall back due to the fact that she's injured AND because eveything is going wrong.

After the events of Evangelion 3.0 these two got seperated from eachother, Mari was with WILLE (the organization both of them are with) and on board of Wunder (the ship WILLE basically operates from) while Asuka was in a Village full of (Near) Third Impact Survivors. When they do meet again it went like this:

Asuka, barely back, comes to the door and calls, "I'm back." And within seconds of Asuka stepping into their room after the door opens Mari already runs towards her, arms wide open and she says, "Welcome back, your Highness! Good job. I missed you so much!" And she says that while she literally nuzzles into Asuka,,,like,,,what the fuck gay people real!!! 

Best part? Asuka clearly has enough strength to push Mari completely away if she were uncomfortable, but she doesn't. Asuka merely wanted enough space to look at the room (because Mari managed to horde even more books lol) and play her game. During their entire renunion Mari keeps hugging her, and part of me thinks that perhaps deep down Asuka actually enjoys the feeling of physical affection.

Before we get to the last point though, let me say that Asuka and Mari have scenes in 3.0+1.0 that parallel Shinji and Kaworu's from 3.0. (Fyi Kaworu loves Shinji (yeah, like that, and 3.0 was basically them being gay as fuck for an hour) so like...do I even need to explain? 

And then of course there's also this, the "Take care of yourself, Princess…" line. That is the last time Mari talks to Asuka and as much as that line alone already is so much, it's Mari's expression in particular that kills me. Because this? This soft, almost bittersweet expression she has, as she basically says goodbye? Because she knows Asuka will finally be happy and safe? It just makes me feel so much actually. Man.

In the end it's a fact that Mari loved Asuka, wether that is interpreted as platonic or romantic by someone is up to them. But it is a fact that Asuka was loved enough that someone wanted to hug her, was happy to see her, to praise her, was hurt by her loss, wanted her to be safe, that someone told her "Take care of yourself…" Asuka was really and honestly so loved that someone would tell her, "I missed you."

But Asuka? Asuka was too hurt, too wrapped up in her own head to actually see how loved she was by Mari (and other people) that she genuinely believed she's completely alone and always will be alone.

It makes the "Take care of yourself" line hit even harder to me, because it's not only Mari's goodbye, but it's a goodbye during the one time Asuka allowed herself to be vulnerable and admit what she really wanted.

And honestly? All of this? Its makes me feel so many things and I just love them  so much man.

#the felix talk #IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #HDMSGDMDGSJSGEH #3.0+1.0 spoilers

[moonknightly]

Could Feel You Surrounding Me : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.”

Warnings: Uhh mentions of injury, blood, cursing. That’s it I think? This one has a happy ending fellas!

The first emotion you experience is shock. It’s unfathomable, how someone you love and care for so deeply, with every inch of your being, could be at the forefront of a situation you thought only existed in dramatized TV shows — under harsh lights, covered in bandages that turn from white to red and only do so much to hide the cuts and the bruises that mark their skin. Attached to various tubes, drains, and IV lines. So many different wires.

The sight is near unbearable, and it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many hours or even days pass by in a blur of fast-moving staff wearing stethoscopes and scrubs. And everytime you close your eyes, you tell yourself that once you open them again, you’ll finally be used to it. You tell yourself it’s not gonna hurt as bad this time, but it’s even harder than it was before.

And the sounds. God, the sounds. The unfamiliar, almost haunting beeps and buzzes that start to become a comfort because they serve as the only reminder that they’re still there. The excruciating and traumatic cries of a family’s hearts breaking from down the hall mixed with rare periods of somber silence. The rapid-fire exchange of incomprehensible medical terminology, so many different medications and diagnoses and explanations that you just can’t wrap your head around.

It starts with the shock, because while you knew that this reality existed outside of those damned TV shows, and while you were aware of the possibility of having to live it yourself, given his line of work, you never thought you would actually have to face seeing Santi lying in the ICU like this.

Because he promised. Each and every single time he went out on a mission, he promised you that he’d come home to you, safe and sound and in one piece. And Santiago never broke his promises. Not a damn one.

But it had been a freak accident, and he hadn’t even been on a mission, and that was probably what freaked you out the most. The new realization that it could happen at any given moment, at any given time in any given circumstance.

All of the sleepless nights spent in your empty bed, praying to any divine being that would listen, worrying over his safety and just wishing him home, and he’d managed to land himself in this position during a boy’s trip into the mountains for a little leisurely camping.

They’d been rock climbing, something they were all five well-trained in, but the rope had been settled against a rock with a rather sharp edge, and the constant pulling of his weight had cut straight through it. It was a fall that he was lucky to survive. The paramedics who arrived on scene hadn’t expected to find him alive, and definitely hadn’t expected him to come back once he needed to be resuscitated.

His neglect to check the ridge was something that seemed so out of character for both him and the other boys. No detail was ever overlooked. It was hard for you to believe that he hadn’t noticed how sharp the edge of the rock had been, but you also knew Santi — he never would have thought it would happen to him

There were several things the nurses told you that you didn’t quite understand, and honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask them to clarify, or put it into words that actually made sense. As ignorant as it was, you almost didn’t want to understand. You didn’t want to focus on all of his injuries and the no doubt long recovery ahead until he opened those big brown eyes of his that you so adored and kept them open.

Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.

What you did understand was that he had several broken ribs, some injuries to his spinal cord, and a moderate traumatic brain injury amongst other things blunt force trauma to his abdomen and chest caused. He’d needed a blood transfusion down in the ER, and he was on so many different medications, you couldn’t keep up.

They’d sedated him after a mild seizure, keeping him in a medically induced coma for the first two days before waking him again. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for long though, and while your eyes had briefly met, you don’t think he really registered who you were or what was going on.

It was day four now, and he was breathing on his own. He was waking up unprompted more and more, usually to vomit, but would fall back asleep after only a minute or two. Sometimes he would glance towards you as if to make sure that someone was still with him, sometimes he would only blink at the ceiling. He’d move, but only if a nurse asked him to touch his nose or wiggle his toes, and he hadn’t said a word.

But neither had you. Each time he looked at you, you could only stare back, blinking away your tears until you were sure he was asleep again. Only then would you let yourself cry, and fuck, did you cry. You were sure you had cried more in the last four days than you ever had before.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the only time you left his side was to let one of the boys visit. Frankie usually sat with you in the cafeteria while the other three took their turns, trying to get you to eat something, but he’d convinced you to use the time that day to run home and get a shower in, and grab yourself some clothes and other things you’d need since it was apparent you wouldn’t be leaving. He knew no one other than Santiago could convince you to stay the night in your own home rather than in the recliner by his bedside.

Frankie also knew that as brave as Pope was, he’d want you next to him through it all. He’d be heartbroken if he woke up and you weren’t there.

You’d be just as torn up over it.

A nurse checked on him every hour, and it was this particular nurse’s last round before shift change. You liked her. Her name was Casey, and she was always so gentle with him. It was obvious that she actually cared about her patients, not just for them, and you appreciated it to no end, words failing every time you tried to properly thank her. You knew the comfort was something he needed, something you were still too scared to give him. You were afraid to touch him, so terrified that you’d hurt him or cause him even an ounce of discomfort. You hadn’t even touched his hand.

But, it was something you needed to get over. You both needed it.

You watched as she worked around him, checking to make sure everything was still in place, double checking it even after she was sure nothing had wiggled its way loose. She peeked over her shoulder towards you. “The doctors are bringing in an occupational therapist tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked, shifting in your chair, eyes flickering between her and Santi.

“We’re hoping to keep him awake long enough to get him to write a few things down. See if communicating that way is a possibility. And if not that, maybe we can get him to point at a chart with different letters to spell things out.”

You shifted again. “Is he ready for that?”

“The doctors seem to think so. The longer he stays awake, the better we can gauge where he’s at cognitively.”

You stayed silent at that, your stomach flipping as another bout of fear moved through you.

Casey seemed to know exactly where your head was at though, and she stopped momentarily to reach back and set a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery sweetheart. I’m not the type to believe in miracles and things like that, but given what he’s already pulled himself through, he’s one lucky man.”

You smiled gently, putting your hand over hers, but a frown quickly worked its way back onto your face. “I’m just scared he doesn’t recognize me. Every time he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s looking through me.”

“And does that make you love him any less?”

You were taken aback by her words, completely shocked. But you immediately shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s not his fault.” Your answer was again immediate. “Because he just went through some shit and it’s not his fault at all. I vowed to love him for better or for worse, and that wasn’t a promise either of us took lightly.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged, pointing to him. “Because that’s still your husband. He’s still your Santiago. There’s just a few kinks to work out, and even if those kinks did become permanent, you’d still love him, right?.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You knew she was right. You knew that even if he didn’t recognize you at first, the doctors were near positive that he would eventually. And even if he didn’t, and he had to relearn you completely, it’d be worth it. Because at least he was still alive, still breathing. You still had him.

“Thank you.”

Casey smiled, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently before turning her attention back to Santiago.

Once she was finished, she turned towards you again, tilting her head to the side. “You know, he could really use a bath. And I think he’d appreciate it if you were the one to do it instead of me.”

The smirk on her face was entirely noticeable, and you knew exactly what she was doing, but you still nodded your head, suddenly craving the physical contact, that connection.

“Great,” she hummed, leaving the room to grab the supplies you would need in order to give him a sponge bath.

She returned a moment letter with a cloth, some soap and deodorant, and a basin of water, instructing you to stay clear of any bandages, and to not worry about his hair. If he woke up, you could try to wash his back, but otherwise she didn’t want you to worry about that either. You nodded your head, listening intently even though it was all pretty straightforward. She turned off the bed alarm, showing you which button to press once you got up again, and left the room.

Once Casey was gone, you took a moment to just stare at him, even though you hadn’t truly looked at anything else in the last four days. He looked better than he had when you first saw him, really. He had some color back in his cheeks, and the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. He looked almost peaceful.

You sighed gently, giving yourself one final push before stepping forward, carefully peeling the blanket and the sheet away from his body.

Should you try to wake him? Or would it be better for you to just go for it? You decided on the latter, thinking it would be better if he woke up on his own accord. If he stayed asleep, then it was obvious his body needed it.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing a few sweat soaked curls away from his forehead. “I’d ask how you’re doing but that seems a little redundant right now.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the cloth, wetting it and applying a little bit of soap. You started on his arms, staying away from his IV and the bandage near his elbow. Your touch was gentle, slow, but the feeling of his skin under your fingertips after not feeling it for days set both your body and soul ablaze, chest so full of love and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe? You didn’t know.

“The boys have been in and out,” you continued, even though he couldn’t hear you. You just wanted to talk to him. “Frankie told me you woke up for a second the last time he was in here. He cried a little bit, but he’s never gonna admit it.”

You hesitated, moving to untie the hospital gown as much as you could, pulling it down just enough to reveal his chest, being extremely careful not to accidentally disconnect a wire for the heart monitor. You started on his upper arms.

“The boys feel like shit. They all think there was something they could’ve done to prevent it, even though everyone knows it was just a stupid accident. Benny’s taking it really hard.”

You brought your free hand to his lower stomach, your fingertips tracing random shapes and patterns into his skin as you moved the cloth over his right shoulder, your eyes glued to your movements.

“I miss you so much,” you sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re right fucking here, but you know what I mean. I miss your hugs, your kisses. Your voice. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours.”

The tears started before you even had a chance to realize. You could feel them trailing down your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below.

“I just really need you to be okay, you hear me baby? I need you.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself begin to shake, the sobs moving through your body with relentless force. You made yourself stay quiet though, not wanting to scare a nurse or a family down the hall, or even Santi himself.

Nothing had ever been so hard. This entire experience had been more than difficult, but as you sat there, thinking about how things could have gone in an entirely different direction, and how you could have walked away a widow instead of a wife, you realized exactly how true Casey’s words had been. Santi really was lucky, and so were you.

And if this was hard for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be for him once he was fully conscious again, and able to make sense of everything that he’d been through. The doctors were still unsure of just how far his brain injury ran, but they were sure there were things that would take time to come back to him — like his ability to speak, possibly his ability to walk. They predicted that he’d have migraines for months. Light sensitivity, some dizziness and confusion that could last just as long. Fatigue, general weakness. Pain. His recovery was going to be hell, and there you were, having sat by his bedside for four days feeling sorry for yourself.

How could you have been so selfish? In a time where your husband needed you most?

You felt selfish even crying, but you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept pouring, and the hole in your chest grew and grew as you continued to spiral deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

You were only pulled from them when you felt a set of knuckles gently brush against your cheek, and for a moment, you thought one of the boys had managed to sneak their way in, or maybe it was even Casey coming to check in one last time before heading home for the night.

The last thing you expected to see when you blinked your eyes open was a familiar pair of warm brown ones staring right back at you.

Brown eyes full of recognition and worry.

You gasped, not able to stop the sound before it left your lips, but you did refrain from throwing your arms around him, knowing the action would probably hurt him or knock something loose. Instead, you reached up, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.  

“Santi?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking as if he wanted to say something in response, but he could only frown, and you knew him well enough to notice that his inability to speak was already frustrating him.

But you almost took that as a good thing, because it showed that he remembered waking up before, and how he hadn’t been able to speak any of those times either. The fact that he remembered was good, right?

And he might not have been able to verbally speak, but there were still so many things he could say without words. You felt him squeeze your hand, three times — a silent “I love you”, something he had started doing not long after saying it to you for the first time.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

He pulled on your hand, trying to bring you closer to him, and you started to shake your head, still worried about hurting him.

“Santi, no-”

This time he gently smacked your hand, effectively silencing you as he pointed to his shoulder, and you knew what he was trying to tell you — you wouldn’t hurt him if you were only lying against his shoulder.

He knew exactly what you were thinking without you needing to speak, too.

And you couldn’t deny him, not when he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he knew would get him anything he wanted.

You tossed the washcloth back into the water, and pulled his gown back up, redoing the ties before scooting further up the bed. You made sure that everything was out of the way before leaning back against him, keeping your eyes trained on his face the entire time. Only when he didn’t flinch did you finally relax.

And you both simply laid there, staring at one another, letting your eyes do all of the talking. Neither of you looked away, not even once. Not until Santi’s eyes started to close again, his exhaustion taking over once more. You kissed the corner of his mouth, and you watched as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile before he gave into unconsciousness.

He’d managed to stay awake for over half an hour this go around, and for twenty minutes the next time he woke up, and another twenty after that.

And when morning came and Casey walked into the room for the first round of her shift, all she could do was smile.

Santiago was awake again, and you were the one asleep, lightly snoring from your place on his shoulder, looking so completely at peace.

And he was looking at you like he was the luckiest man alive.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

[animus-inspire-archive]

reeves opinions on the Tsviets?

The Tsviets conjure up very unpleasant feelings in the Commissioner.

Not solely because they were thrust into the role of ‘the enemy’ during the war, but because their very existence is yet another visceral reminder of the dark side of Shinra. Which he either a) had to be aware of to some degree and wilfully ignored in favour of concentrating on his own priorities or b) he really was not on the “need-to-know list’.

If it were the former, which I suspect it might be (I cannot see that he was not at least aware of the Deepground facilities, a massive city that sits below the one he helped to build and maintain? Which has been shown in the Remake to be something that can just be FALLEN INTO?) then he has to live with that guilt of silent complicity.

Even if he did not know its true purpose (I HC that he probably helped secure some of the infrastructure as a potential alternative should surface-Midgar itself be attacked or destroyed) - that is still an incredibly uncomfortable thing to bear.

If it were the latter however - during the early stages of the Deepgound invasion and in recovering the files from Shinra, Reeve must’ve been exposed at a phenomenal rate to (yet more) horrors perpetrated by those he worked for and alongside for the entirety of his adult life. Probably with quite a bit more detail than he spares the rest of the planet from knowing.

He considers himself a pretty smart kinda fella - now how the heck did he miss that. Again, no doubt distinctly uncomfortable to realise, witness and process.

The Tsviets are basically the living embodiement for such emotions.

Does he think of them as the enemy?

In the sense that thousands of people start to go missing and it disrupts an already extremely fragile new world order where people are still trying to grieve and heal from a massive amount of trauma inflicted upon them? In that one particular circumstance where a new kind of war is being waged upon an already ravaged population? Yes.

Does he think of them as evil?

Not inherently, no. This is most apparent with Shelke, the Transparent.

Here is a woman who - through horrific experimentations, brain-washing and torture - is now a trained killer trapped in the body of a child. Who still holds the form of a beloved sister at the time she was lost.

Reeve faces off with Shelke. He does not back down, nor show his fear. Shalua has collapsed to her knees besides him and Vincent is there, but he does not tell him to attack. Instead he tries to appeal to the part of the Tsviet that he still believes could possibly have some humanity.

And whilst I have no doubt that he is trying to make up for yet more guilt through these actions (he had tried to convince Shalua that her search and scorched-earth efforts to find Shelke again were not worth the pain) he is shown not to automatically go for the kill-all-evil option throughout canon. Nor much black and white thinking at all. He himself has done some dubious things in the past, and has been shown to be intimately involved with those who have arguably done a lot worse.

Following Shalua’s sacrifice, Shelke starts to work alongside them. Cait Sith also undertakes an SND, and she helps them all navigate history in order to make sense of the present threat, ultimately enabling Vincent to defeat Omega.

By the end of the game, she is an ally.

Reeve doesn’t see them as monsters. He sees them as the products of Shinra’s cruel and senseless ambitions. It is the only the violent, occasionally eldritch, threat to the general populace and the planet at large that forces his hands.

Does he think they are deserving of kindness / redemption?

Reeve claims to not be locked into the past, he looks to the future and how people act in the present to assess what potential good or bad they may do in the world.

(And to judge their utility, let’s face it).

Whilst it would be nice to think anyone should be given kindness where they have only previously experienced cruelty, that all opportunity should be given for people to redeem their actions... in reality, it entirely depends on the individual Tsviet. What they do right now and how they are expected to act going forwards.

If they continue to be a threat to the safety of the majority, then Reeve will respond in kind, making use of others as he does so.

If they work to accept what they have done, and attempt to do different - especially if they use their own strengths and talents to help faciliate better change. Well, he is of course open to anyone being given that opportunity. But he is cautious, understandably.

Someone asked a while back on my ask-blog that sums up some of this already:

How do you intend to increase the security at the WRO and possibly in Cait Sith itself now that Shalua's sister is likely to be around more often? She can hack with her thoughts and she has no emotions. Don't you worry that she'll backslide?

Tl;dr

They make him very uncomfortable for varying reasons.

But he feels a degree of empathy for their suffering and tries not make judgements based on their previous actions, only their current ones.

#hey anonny nonny #hope this answers your question #headcanon #tsviets #also so happy that the tsviets are getting more airtime in the remake #i'm open to hostile RP threads with tsviets btw #though I do feel it would have to be with someone where trust has been built #cos hostile threads are hard to manage and require good comms #I love me some tsviets #and Reeve has a distinct soft spot for Shelke

[aden-reid]

“I remember my childhood as a long wish to be elsewhere.”

I have never fit in: with my family and their carefree nature or my peers whose trendy glibs forced my eyes to roll. I tried, relentlessly, to enjoy and accept what I didn’t, to be free in my own skin that never seemed to feel right. I tried too hard and it received strange glances and pointed whispers. It was better keeping to myself. 

We were the perfect little family on the outside; two boys and two girls all sweet and well-mannered with their mom and dad who seemed endlessly in love. In the privacy of our home was a different story. Once, I idolized my older siblings and parents. They had the necessary norms a rose-colored child’s naivety yearned to mature into. However, there were days dad wouldn’t get out of bed, their darkened bedroom discouraging visitors. Mom always seemed to take on extra shifts at the hospital during that time, happy-go-lucky her wanting far away from his draining negativity. It’s a fuzzy time because when he graduated into the light, all play and laughing and smiles is what sticks in my brain. But then. And then. The Bad Thing Happened. The one mom still doesn’t like being brought up or discussed in her presence. I can’t forget, though; won’t ever. The nightmares come frequently, when I sleep, if I sleep. 

I’m the one who found him. Nine and so very little for my age, I was returning from school when I crossed a little blue jay on the trail and my heart ached for the injured fella. I took it upon myself to save him, racing home because I needed daddy to help me bring the bird with his broken wing to the vet. But stopped short because there he was, hanging from the American Beech in our backyard, a rope crudely tied from its thick branch to around his neck, which was bent at an ungodly angle. Broken, I later found out. I think I was in shock for the longest time because my concern still lied with my rescue animal throughout that whole evening of ambulances and police officials full of questions, my inconsolable family and the gathering, nosy neighbors who wanted a peak of the tragedy.

It was my first trauma and my “why” has still not been satisfied. After that, Mom started a funny relationship with food, which I think she gave to me. She would eat when she was sad, and she was always sad. The family pictures on the wall made her sad, dad’s favorite armchair made her sad, and eventually being in the house at all made her sad. The loss of the second income had her starting a second job so she wasn’t very present, and Brennan got his first ever minimum wage gig. Split between school, hockey, and his after-school cashier position, I rarely saw my older brother. It was left to Halston to look after me and little Callan. She only did with resentment. 

The first poem I wrote I titled “Brennan’s dreams” and illustrated how my brother was meant to achieve more than being immortalized as a high school hockey star. If he hadn’t gotten in the car that night. If he hadn’t been drinking. If he hadn’t had that screaming match with mom before he left. My heartache came out through my pen and my new love bloomed. The first and only time I read something I had written out loud and in front of others besides in class was his funeral. 

They say life goes on. That the loved ones you lost would want you to keep living. Life is supposed to go on. Mine seemed to end that year. My mom was always plus-size for as long as I can remember and I know that society got to me, her overeating disgusted me, so much to the point that I would refuse to. Excuses of “I just ate” or lies that I was going out with friends for dinner. Bites of saltines or fat-free yoghurt were okay but I mostly filled up on water. I was counting calories in my sleep. When I lost control and overate, I would sob over the toilet as I shoved two fingers deep into my throat. I can vomit on demand now, no fingers required, just a practiced gag reflect. 

If I wasn’t comparing myself to the models shiny and smiling on the cover of my favorite magazines, I was hidden in my room, turning into my dad. His bouts of sadness became mine. I didn’t want to leave the dark, my bed, because the world was far too scary: full of judgment and teases, mean jeers that elicited laughter. I would look in the mirror and find every single flaw of mine, with the only conclusion being I was ugly. I’d work through my depression by escaping into other’s fictional realities, my favorite authors’ words painting an escape I desperately craved. I healed with my own words, pouring them into my journals - secrets just for me.

While I was spiraling into my own self-hatred, my mother was battling with her own. Two deaths and she had checked out from the family. She had always been bigger, but it was around the time I was sixteen that she couldn’t move herself off of the couch. Refused, really, because the excess weight she held was too painful to carry further than the restroom. Her solution to her problem was to eat more, the three of us enabling her and bringing her all of the junk food she requested. Mine and Mom’s arguments started when kids from school got wind of her six-hundred pound life and changed their bullying from teasing me to taunts of her.

My saving grace came from being scouted. I thought it was a joke when she introduced herself, handed me her card, and invited me for a meeting and headshots. There was no doubt in my mind I was being punked. But I went, after much debate, indecisiveness, and that extra push I needed from my sister. I didn’t want to be Halston, stuck at home working a dead-end job because mom no longer saw the reason, taking care of her and Callan. Responsibilities that weren’t hers but she took on, resentfully. I saw the begrudging in her eyes that she tried to hide behind a smile when I gushed about being signed and shared I was moving to New York City after graduation.

I left and found who I am. I have my moments of grief, days I don’t want to leave my bed. I still get overcome by the sadness. But the art helps, spending a day in a museum to appreciate the talent I don’t possess, listening to poet’s words that I wish were my own. Constant reminders and daily affirmations of what makes me, me and how great those I’ve surrounded myself with are. One day at a time.

#( aden bio ) #( tw: mention of suicide ) #( tw: death ) #( tw: eating disorders ) #( tw: depression )

[inkwell1013]

Fluff October - Day 20 - Neighbours - Good Omens

[Prompts are here by the way] 

So... somehow this fluff piece about Crowley and Azi being neighbours spawned an idea for a series. I hope you’re all ready for that. Featuring Crowley as Warlock’s foster father, traumatised Warlock and the kindly bookseller living down the street

- - - - -

“Warlock are you awake?” asked Crowley, giving his son a shake. “You’re going to be late for school.”

 “I don’t feel very well Dad,” mumbled Warlock. Crowley pressed a hand to Warlock’s forehead.

 “You do have a temperature…” he rescinded. “It’s probably just a cold though. I think you’re fine to go to school.”

 It was at that exact moment that Warlock threw up all over Crowley’s favourite pair of shoes.

 Safe to say, Warlock would not be going to school that day.

 That put Crowley in a difficult position. Warlock was too young to be left home alone – he was only eight years old – and Crowley didn’t really know anyone who could watch the kid. He would have taken the day off work, but he didn’t have any sick days left.

 He was racking his brain for a solution, he gave Warlock his porridge. Warlock was disinterested in his food, which was worrying. “Are you not hungry kiddo?” he asked.

 “Don’t want to eat. I’ll be sick again.”

 Crowley patted him on the shoulder. “Can you please try to eat a couple of bites for me? You’ll feel worse later if you don’t eat.”

 Warlock still seemed apprehensive. “I’ll put some honey in your porridge if you promise to eat some for me,” offered Crowley, just as he sent a message to Anathema asking if she could babysit Warlock for the day. Unfortunately, she couldn’t because she taking Adam to therapy and Newt was at work. How irritating.

 His son perked up a little at the offer of something sweet. Crowley fetched the bottle of honey from the fridge and set it down on the kitchen table, just a little harder than he intended. Warlock jumped a little. “Are you mad at me daddy?” he asked between spoonsful of porridge. “I’m sorry I’m sick.”

 “I’m not mad at you kiddo. You can’t help being sick. It’s just…” Warlock gave him an inquisitive look.

 “You know how daddy had to do special lessons so I could look after you?” he said. Warlock nodded. “Well anyone who babysits you has to have the same lessons. And I can’t find anyone to look after you because the only people I know who’ve done the lessons are Auntie Anathema and Uncle Newt.”

 He took a sip of his coffee and watched the gears turn in Warlock’s mind.

 “Adam told me that the new guy down the street looked after him when Anathema and Newt were busy last week. The one with the bookshop,” Warlock said, poking his porridge around his bowl. Crowley messaged Anathema to confirm this fact and it turned out to be true.

 A few minutes later, Crowley had managed to arrange for the town’s bookseller to babysit Warlock. It was actually a good deal. The guy had an completely clean criminal record – without so much as a speeding ticket – had completed the training and he worked from home, meaning that he was available all day. Plus he adored kids!

 The only requests the guy had was that Warlock wash his hands before touching any of the books in the shop.

 Warlock finished his breakfast and fetched his backpack from his room. Crowley had packed some books, including his favourite colouring book, and some colouring pencils. “Have you got your shoes on?” asked Crowley pulling on his boots and zipping them up on the side. Warlock fiddled with his laces before promptly giving up.

 “Can you do it Daddy? I can’t remember how.”

 Crowley crouched down and tied up the laces quickly. “You really need to learn how to tie your shoes Lock. You’re nearly nine.”

 “Its hard! I can’t remember all the steps and if I can remember them, they get all muddled up in my brain.” Crowley stood up and dusted off his jeans. He wasn’t exactly happy about how the house was often dirty or coated in dust, but he was a busy single father. All in all, he was lucky if he managed to sweep up once a week but with such a young kid (who tended to track in dirt as kids did) that did little to help.

 “Come on kiddo,” he said. “I need to drop you off at Mr Eden’s shop early enough that I can get to work on time.”

 “Kay!”

  Aziraphale had never heard much of this Anthony Crowley fella – granted he had only been living in Tadfield for two weeks. But Anathema said he was a good guy and Aziraphale could always trust her opinions on people.

 There was a knock at the door. Aziraphale set down the books he was sorting and walked over to the door. He opened it up with a smile, laying his eyes upon what might just be the most attractive man he’d ever seen.

 He was lean, tall and dressed in a way that Aziraphale would call fashionable but still professional. His bright red hair was cropped short

 “That you so much for this dude. I really owe you one,” said Crowley, shooing Warlock toward Aziraphale. “Why don’t you say hi Warlock?”

 Warlock shuffled a little but didn’t say anything. “Sorry. He’s a bit shy.”

 “I was shy when I was his age. It’s totally alright,” responded Aziraphale, crouching down to Warlock’s level. “I’m Aziraphale Eden,” he said, introducing himself.

 “I know who you are,” said Warlock. “You looked after my friend Adam when his mum and dad were busy.”

 Aziraphale’s smile brightened. “Adam is a lovely young man.”

 “I like him. He let me borrow his colouring pencils in class.”

 “Yeah? Do you have your pencils with you today?” he asked. Warlock gave a little nod. “That’s good. I have some colouring sheets that you can do. How about you go set yourself up on that table over there while I talk to your Pa?”

 Warlock smiled a little and wandered off, backpack in tow, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale alone together. “I should probably give you this,” said Crowley, passing over a plastic bag, though hands lingering for just a few seconds too long.

“Warlock’s allergic to peanuts. He’s usually pretty good at knowing what he isn’t allowed to have but I’ve put his EpiPen in there just in case. It’s in the box. His lunch is in the bag too. Do you…”

“Yes, I know how to use an EpiPen,” reassured Aziraphale.

 “Oh good. Guess I don’t have to explain that then. And I know this probably goes without saying but Warlock has a lot of trauma. And I know we’ve taken all the same classes but just… be careful. He’s my kid, you know? Don’t hurt him.”

 “I would never.”

 Crowley waved goodbye to his son and set off for work and Aziraphale went to find those colouring sheets he had offered to Warlock.

#fluff #good omens fanfiction #fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #kid fic #flufftober #fluff october #human au #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #Warlock Dowling #sickfic #kinda? #this was only meant to be a one shot #i swear #inkwell writes

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 15

Warning: cussing, some parts are kinda nsft? But no so much so, no probs I think. Slight mention of past trauma.

Ari and Rei was standing before Sofía's door, both kinda annoyed by their big sister's behaviour by now.

- Don't be ridiculous! It's been almost a week! - said Rei and pounded her fist on Sofía's door... again. For the fourth time. - You can't still be mad at us! - no answer came. Rei threw her head back and frowned. - Ugh, Sof, you haven't made anything sweet since monday! If I don't have some cake soon, I might die! Do you want me to die, woman?! - Ari giggled at Rei's sudden selfish outburst. She shood her sister away so she could get to the door.

- Come on, cariña, you love salvaging! And now we can do it in our own home! We don't even have to go out! - said Ari and tapped the door with her fingertips lightly. - Por favor guapa....

- Cut the spanish crap, boo, it won't work! - interrupted Sofi. - You snake-ass bitches shut me up ON PURPOSE, AND you broke the laws of our Sister Code. Which YOU TWO CAME UP WITH, BY THE WAY, BUT IT SEEMS LIKE I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS IT'S FUCKING IMPORTANT!!! - Ari breathed out like a horse and leaned against the wall. She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them, Beetlejuice was there, right before her face, dangling in the air upside down. He flashed a toothy grin at his favorite breather.

- Hi there! - he said in an aroused tone. Ari sighed and scruffed his hair.

- Hello Bug. - the demon did a little half cartwheel in the air, then put his feet down on the ground. He pointed at Sofía's door with his thumb.

- How's it going with the little Drama Queen? She still won't come down from her tower?

- She can't be real dude. - said Rei with a sigh while rubbing the bridge of her nose.

- Sorry for this taking so long. - commented Ari with a light smile. She then turned towards the door and shouted: - SOMEONE'S PEOPLE SKILLS ARE A BIT RUSTY. - Beej leaned back towards the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. He shrugged with a handsign.

- No probs. - he rubbed his palms together. - This gives me a lot more time to fantasize, cause, hey, let's just look at you pretty girls, being all dolled up for me. - he said as he paced up and down on Ari and Rei. Ari wore a light purple dungaree with little bats all over it, a black cropped tshirt and a sparkly bat-shaped leather choker. Her nails were dark purple on both her toes and her hands. Half of her messy brown hair was let loose, the other half was put in a high ponytail on the top of her head with a black sparkly ribbon. Rei had a cropped, oversized, black Harley Davidson shirt on with a pair of cut-out jeans and black fishnets. Her copper-colored hair was free. They both crossed their arms before their chests and did an annoyed little frown. Beej stepped closer to them, held both their chins and lifted their faces up lightly. He summoned two more hands and with one, he caressed Ari's face, while with the other he pulled a lock of red hair out of Rei's face. - I was feeling a little off today, but you've turned me on again! - he released a kinda animalistic, guttural growl out while he pulled the girls a bit closer to him. Then with a lowered voice, he naughtily giggled. Ari tried so hard to tell herself that his gravelly, kinda smokey voice didn't make her knees tremble, but gosh she couldn't do anything about it. Being turned on by a fuckin corpse was so unnatural and was wrong on so many levels but... Gods what could this voice do with me if he whispered something into my ear while being on top of me. - I can't wait to have my own little private space and beat off to the thought of you, babies. - aaaand that snapped Ari out of fantasizing. She pulled her upper lip.

- Ew. - she commented as she shoved Beetlejuice away. He was laughing so hard his hair lit up. He made his extra hands disappear and stack his tongue out at Ari.

- Ya nasty. - said Rei with a pointing finger held up. Beej stack his tongue out at her too. Ari turned to her sister and shrugged with her hands held up.

- Nah he's just a man. - Beej hissed with his snakelike tongue still out and crossed his arms before his chest. Rei turned to Ari as if she haven't seen the demon at all.

- Is he though? When we last asked he said he has mischief in his pants not... - she held her little finger up and wiggled it. Ari burst out with laughter and had to hold her mouth so she wouldn't spit on her sister. Beej raised an eyebrow and bit his lower lip while smiling. He reached for his belt buckle.

- Well, you can check if you want...

The thing that stopped him from removing his pants was Sofía's shouting from the other side of the door.

- Oh that fuckin demon with the attitude problem is there to help you too?!? - BJ sighed as he started redoing his belt.

- Hey, I only called you a melodramatic bitch yesterday cause you're acting like one! - he shook his index finger towards the door. Then shrugged. - And, by the way, I don't have an attitude problem. You have a perception problem.

- Plus, he's nice. - commented Ari while looking at the door. Beetlejuice's hair turned into a light pink and neon green mess. He raised his shoulders up to his ears, put his hands in his trousers's pockets, put his weight from one leg to the other and smiled widely. Cute little wrinkles and holes appeared on his chubby face as he did so.

- Awwww, thanks, babes!

- No, he's not! - interrupted Sofi. - You guys forget that even though he does nice things like saving us from burglars and letting us rummage through the stuff in the attic before he makes the stuff we don't need disappear, he's still a demon! A FUCKIN DEMON!!! What if one day he gets bored and hurts us?! - the sisters looked at each other with a certain look. Maybe what she said was somewhat true...

Even though Beetlejuice didn't really understand human emotions yet (Rei told him the other day that it was like living with Sheldon Cooper, even though Beetlejuice didn't have the slightest idea of who that was), he did know what that look meant. The girls had second thoughts. He already realized that Sofía was the most serious one of the sisters, and that she could easily plant ideas into their heads. I can't let her fuck me off by the side of my new BFFFF... I should scare her. That will do the trick. He cleared his throat and held the girls' shoulders. He pulled them away from the door and made a little "I'll handle this" gesture with his hands. He quickly reajusted his thoughts and found his ground, so after a quick second he let a devilish, nasty smile find its way to his face. He stepped closer to the door and held both sides of the doorframe.

- Oh honey, if I wanted to hurt anyone here... - he said in a honeyed tone, then put his head through the door. - ...I would have already done so. - the last part sounded like it came from every possible direction, and had a weird smokey effect to it. His voice also dropped a couple octaves. Ari could hear in his voice that Beetlejuice was flashing an evil smile at her sister.

The girls heard Sofía growl and by the huffing, grab something heavy. Beetlejuice all of a sudden pulled his head out of the door just a nanosecond before something crashed against the door. Beej pulled the side of his lips and closed one of his eyes.

- That was an old camera. - Rei took her glasses off and rubbed her temples.

- Dwight you ignorant slut... - BJ threw his head back and growled. Okay time for Plan B. Being nice. Ew.

- Ugh, it's so tragic that someone this sexy as me has to go through this much to have some little privacy! - he growled then sighed and held the doorframe again. He took a deep breath and put his head through the door again.

- Look, Sofía, honey... No STOP, STOP, PUT THE CHAIR DOWN! - the girls heard Beej stop shouting for a second, then breathe out with a little "whew". - Good girl. Okay, see sweetcheeks, the easiest way to get into the attic without a key is to break the door in. - he said in a legitimately sweet tone. He let go of the doorframe and with a little whirl of a hand, a huge axe appeared in his right hand. He put it through the door. - And I'd gladly give this tiny fella to you so you could let some steam outofya.

Beetlejuice stepped back from the door, axe still in his hand. The door creaked and opened up. Sofía was still holding the door handle, a lock of her fluffy hair dangling before her eyes while the rest was pulled together with a tealblue scrunchie. She had comfy kneehigh jeans and a tealblue top with the picture of a maneating siren on. Her nails were mirrorlike and sharp. She huffed the lock out, then stepped closer to the demon and grabbed the axe out of his hand. He answered with a huge shiteating grin. Since Sofía was way taller than Beetlejuice, she easily rose above him and pushed her index finger into his chest. She wrinkled her brows.

- That's a good idea. But I'm still mad at you. - she turned around and pointed at her sisters. - All 3 of you. - Ari rolled her eyes.

- I'll make you the strawberry dress in lavender. - she said. Sofía let her finger down.

- ...kay I'm not that mad anymore. - Rei growled and rolled her eyes with her head thrown back.

- Sof, bloody hell, why are you the way that you are?

The door to the attic was at the end of the hallway, with a couple stairs leading up to it. Beetlejuice floated through the door, saying he's not comfortable next to Sofía while she's holding an axe so he would wait on the other side of the red door. Rei and Ari stopped a few steps behind Sof as well.

Sofía brandished the axe and cut into the door. The wood cracked and a part of the door broke in. The girl swinged the axe again and again, then looked through the hole she created and she shouted:

- HEEERE'S JOHNNY!

The girls woo-hood and smiled at their sister's horror movie reference. Sofía cut into the door a couple times more, creating a hole big enough for them to go through. She put the axe down and stepped into the attic.

The attic was kind of big, but it was full of boxes and random stuff. The 2 windows on the right side of the room were barely visible by the boxes shoved before them. The walls had wooden paneling on them, but that was barely visible because of the shelves as well. The floor had a couple old, hole filled carpets scattered around. And everything was dusty. Not just simply dusty, everything had at least 10 centimeters of dust on it. Mountains of dirt, one might say.

- Wow, it's like nobody came in here since... I dunno, the 90's. - said Rei as she peaked her head through the door. When all 3 of them were in the room, Beetlejuice put his feet down on the ground and unfolded his hands.

- Welcome to my humble hideaway! - he said dramatically, then clapped over his head and the lights turned up. He took a step towards the girls and with that, his shoes got tangled up in a hole in a carpet and he fell back with a loud thud. His fall filled the air with dust particles. The girls all coughed. Sofía looked at Beej and between two coughs, she said:

- I didn't know a bloody demon could be clumsy too.

- The fuck you mean. - answered BJ, still laying on the floor, looking at the ceiling.

- That you fell over.

- I did not! - he said, holding his middle finger up. - I attacked the floor! - Sofía stepped closer with hands folded across her chest and a disbelieving smile.

- ...backwards? - Beetlejuice thought for a minute then a legit lightbulb appeared above his head for a slight second. He pulled a smug grin, fingergunned and winked at the oldest sister.

- I'm skilled.

Sofía rolled her eyes, waved her hand and stepped aside to take a look inside the nearest box. Ari stepped next to Beej and offered him a hand.

- Come now Mister Skilled, you're dirty enough, you don't need to roll around in the dirt as well. - Beetlejuice grabbed her hand and tilted his head sideways. Then flashed an evil, smutty grin. Uh-oh. Ari knew what that smile meant.

Beetlejuice all of a sudden pulled Ari down. As soon as the girl fell on his chest, the demon quickly turned them around so Ari would be on her back and he could be right on top of her. Beetlejuice pinned Ari's hands to the ground above her head with a hand and with the other, he held her chin playfully. His green hair had some magenta streaks in it. Ari's heart was racing. Her demon buddy was basically lying on her, and the coldness radiating from his body made Ari tingle. Shit, I was fantasizing about this scenario... Oh wow that's a big dick even without an erection... NO ARI THAT'S WRONG. STOP IT. You might be horny, you slut, I get it, we didn't have any proper action in a year or so, but he's your best friend... Your pervy, always horny best friend who literally just told you, 5 minutes ago, that he's gonna jerk off while picturing you naked... But he's still your very dead best friend, which you haven't had in a long time. That's a point you should consider too... But that devilish smile... And his weight, pushing my body down...

- What you say we get you dirty as well, doll? - whispered Beetlejuice in a definitely horny tone. Ari tried to say something but no words came out of her mouth. Beetlejuice let out a guttural, small laugh... and was instantly stopped by a book hitting his head.

Rei had a couple books in her hands, and was ready to throw another at the demon. She had determination in her eyes. Beetlejuice let Ari's hands go and sat back on her belly to stick his tongue out at Rei. Ari saw the opportunity and immediately started tickling BJ's sides. He fell over, laughing his ass off, screaming at Ari to stop 'cause he's ticklish. A couple neon green, glowing tears rolled off his cheeks. He tried to push Ari away, who only got more dedicated to tickling her undead bestie to his second death by seeing the tears and hearing his screams. Rei facepalmed and growled.

- GET A ROOM, YA TWO! - she shouted. Beej was finally able to grab Ari's hands and stop her. He flashed a devilish smile as his hair turned neon green completely and he summoned 2 extra limbs to tickle Ari back. But as soon as he reached for the girl's uncovered sides (her croptop left her sides naked), her eyes flinched and she pulled her legs to her chest. Beetlejuice saw the uncomfortability in her eyes instantly. He quickly let go and jumped to his feet. Even though he was a demon, a kind of pain in the ass, he didn't want to scare Ari. Not like this, at least. A good old jumpscare is fine, but scarring your best friend is a douchebag move. He knew, he was still kinda pissed at his last best friend-o for literally scarring him.

Plus, Rei made him promise that he'll be a nice emotional support demon boy.

- Am I overstepping my boundaries? - Ari kinda shook her head but Beej raised an eyebrow at her. To which Ari sighed. She did the "más o menos" handsign. Beej offered her a hand. - Alright, no belly touching thingie then. Imma keep my hands to myself, sugar. - he pulled Ari to her feet, but before letting her hand go, he pulled her closer with a smutty grin. - At least for now. - Ari playfully scruffed BJ's hair with a giggle and pushed him away.

The weird and unusual group quickly got to work. They made some space on the floor and put several boxes down. Of course, Beetlejuice didn't help (lazy bum), he was just floating around and made quirky and pervy comments. And made the girls laugh. God that made him feel all tingly inside. A couple strikes in his hair even turned orange, he was so proud of himself, because, you know, being scared of is one thing but making someone laugh their asses off is even better.

The girls got little pillows to sit on from the living room. On their way back up their pets accompanied them. As soon as Minerva spotted a box, she ran straight past the demon she hated oh so much and jumped into her new favorite resting place on earth. She got comfortable very quickly and fell asleep while purring loudly. Sirius sniffed around the place. The black dog quickly turned brownish grey as he went through the attic. Rei shook her head and established that during the afternoon Sirius will take a bath, doesn't matter if he'd like that or not. Ari snorted when Beetlejuice flinched and made a disgusted face at the idea of a bath.

As soon as the sisters sat down into a cozy little circle on the floor, BJ snapped, disappeared, then a couple seconds later reappeared with a green puff of smoke next to Ari. He was holding a bunch of sweets and snacks, like gummy worms, Sugus, a bag of Boca Bits, Lay's Gourmets and Reese's packs. He sat down sideways next to his friendo with outstretched legs, then layed down and put his head in Ari's lap.

Ari was always a very touchy-feely, passionate, sentimental person. She never thought much of hugs, kisses, sweet embraces or just genuinely touching someone; these actions felt nice and natural for her. She turned out to be like this because of two reasons: one, she grew up in a household where hugs and words of affection were constant. Two, spaniards are naturally passionate and rather handsy. It's basically embedded in their heritage. Although, as one might guess, for a short period of time she was nothing like this. She got uncomfortable when someone wanted to touch her abdomen or sides while hugging, she couldn't let anyone near her in an intimate way and such tings. She hated that period of time in her life, but she considered herself lucky that she had help when she needed it, and slowly but surely she could return to her old self. She still had some issues, but she was working on them.

So knowing how she was, she didn't think much of BJ snuggling up to her; she already got used to how touch-starved her new undead best friend was. She also noticed that he was basically addicted to body heat. Anytime Ari hugged him - which, he honestly still didn't really understand why she did - at first he was startled, he didn't know what to do, he was just standing in one place and didn't move at all, but as soon as the girl tried to let him go he quickly wrapped a couple arms around her and held her close for long long minutes. He really liked that Ari didn't wear any shoes in the house, so he was even taller than her then normally. This way he could rest his chin upon her head... And smell her. I know. Creepy. Ari didn't notice though. What she did notice was his stench and how he almost choked her to death yesterday when he got too wound up in their hug. I'll make him take a bath even if he kills me, she thought.

She was telling herself that she hugged him so many times because she knew (based on the things that BJ told him about his past and mother already, even though it wasn't much) that he needed comfort and hugging did the thing... But to be honest, she hugged him and let him be all touchy-feely with her because it just felt nice. She didn't feel any discomfort when he touched her. It felt like they've known each other for ages. Plus, he was cute and soft as a plushie. And stinky. Very stinky. She pulled her nose into wrinkles.

- Bug, I adore your charm and everything, but honey if you'd be a fairy, you'd be called Stinkerbelle. - Beetlejuice looked up with glowing eyes. Literally.

- Awww thanks babe! - Ari shook her head.

- That... That was NOT a compliment. That was so not a compliment. - BJ crossed his arms before his chest and threw his stripey, forked tongue out at Ari. Ari clicked her tongue. - Come on, you ARE stinky as hell hombre! You wouldn't die by taking... - Beej stopped Ari by showing a handful of gummy worms into her mouth. She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her forehead angrily at the demon. He just smiled and threw his tongue out again.

Ari, just like her sisters, reached for a box and started going through it. They showed everything they found to each other so they could sort every little thing out: there was an empty box for stuff they needed, there was a dump for stuff they wanted to disappear, and there was an empty box for BJ. Ari reached into the box and shook her head.

- There's only a bunch of unfinished projects in here, guys. Let's see. - she lifted some very thick books out. - Books on computers... - she reached into the box again. - A "spin-your-own-yarn" kit? Home-brewed kombucha?

- Ew that most of the times tastes like an armpit. - commented Rei. Ari put everything that she lifted out on the dump and while reaching into the box again, she looked at her undead pal laying in her lap, shoving Boca Bits into his mouth.

- Tell me Beej, who left all this stuff here? I'm pretty sure it wasn't the previous owners cause, hey, they couldn't climb the stairs. - Beetlejuice shrugged.

- Adam and Babs. - he said with a full mouth. - Owners in the late eighties. Middleclass, suburban and white... A boring but very sexy couple. - Sof chuckled. Beej's bright green hair started turning a little purple. The girls already knew that purple meant sadness. He looked down at his stripey jacket and started playing with his buttons. His face turned all foggy. Literally. Ari stroked his forehead.

- What's the matter B? Did I say something wrong? - he shrugged again.

- Nothing, just... - he turned his head and looked at Rei. He started snapping, like he was trying to say something but didn't find the word. - Sugar, what's that feeling you feel when someone leaves you and you still wish for them to come back cause you... You know... What's that word? - Rei raised her eyebrows.

- Miss them? - Beej pointed at her with enthusiastic eyes and snapped again.

- YES! THAT'S THE ONE! - he looked back up at Ari, still being a little purple. - Yeah, I kinda miss them. They were fun folks... - his eyes wandered to the object Ari was holding. He gasped as his hair turned back to green, like his sadness was blown away by that black and white little object. He quickly snapped the thing out of the girl's hands. - AWWW THAT'S MY UKULELE! - he sat up and hugged the instrument. - I've been looking for this for years! - Sof smiled at the demon's genuinely happy reaction. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought...

- I didn’t know you were such a musical guy. - she said. Beej quickly snapped and reappeared before her. He pinched her cheek.

- Sweetcheeks, I'm the ghost with the most, name one thing I'm not.

- Helpful when it comes to moving boxes. - she said without hesitation. BJ rolled his eyes. Sof pushed him away by his head, which caused the demon to fall back on his backside. He threw his hands up in the air, still holding the ukulele.

- Come on, you can't blame a guy for loving to watch those sweet litle rumps of yours swingin' around! - he said, looked up at Ari and winked.

The next second, he was laying in Ari's lap again. He started tuning the ukulele while humming and gently singing.

- 🎶The Barbara you marriiiiied, she is dead and burieeed six feet below-uow-ouw... Ouw-ouw-ouw~~~🎶

- What's this song? - asked Ari as she put a fancylooking porcelain butterfly aside. Beej shrugged. He didn't even look up from the instrument.

- Oh nothing, just a little somethin'-somethin' that I can't get out of my head. - he played a couple notes on the ukulele, then did a proud little fistbump. - Yessss, works like a new one!

The girls got rid of a couple stuff, they emptied like a box when Rei called out to Beej.

- Hey, scruffyhead, could you play something for us? - an enthusiastic, shy light glistened through the demon's eyes. He tried to cover his happiness with a macho shrug.

- Sure, why not. - he sat up from Ari's lap and positioned himself in criss-cross-applesauce while leaning against Ari's shoulder. - Here goes nothin'. - he cleared his throat and started singing while playing his little instrument. - 🎶You're...🎶 - the girls all got wide-eyed at the clear voice that left the demon's lips. It even sounded somewhat humanlike? - 🎶You're gonna be fiiine... On the other siiiide...🎶 DIE! - he shouted suddenly in his normal, gravelly voice. - YOU'RE ALL GONNA DIE! - he pointed at the girls with the neck of his ukulele. Gosh he seemed crazy. - YOU'RE ALL GONNA DIE! 🎶I'll...🎶 - he changed back to the sing-song voice again, leaving a comedic impression behind, making Ari and Sofía cackle. - 🎶I'll be your guiiiide... To the other siiiiiide...🎶

- AWMYGOSH YOU HAVE A LITTLE BEERGUT! - interrupted Rei. She cupped her face with her hands, awed at her discovery.

- Wah... - said the demon while pulling one side of his upper lip into a grimace. Rei clapped little claps.

- I knew my eyes weren't lying! You have a dadbod! That's so sweet! Your beergut is so cute! - Beetlejuice quickly stood up with arms crossed before his chest, angry red streaks appearing in his greenish-purpleish hair.

- Shut the fuck up, I don't have a beer gut. - he said and held a finger up at Rei. Ari smiled at how sassy he looked. - I have a protective covering for my rock hard abs. - Ari still smiled but something started bugging her. Her friend kind of looked... Wounded? Self-conscious? - Plus, I look pretty fuckin good for a dead bitch, just so you know. - and with that last sentence it was clear for her. Not just the tone, his hair told on him as well. It had an angry red glow to it, but it was mostly purple and blue, just like his stubble. She guessed it might meant that Rei touched a sensitive subject. The girl tugged on the demon's pants, which made him look down. His eyes told Ari she was right. She flashed a humble smile at the demon.

- You really do, Mr. Devilishly Handsome. - and boom, the red glow disappeared. Beetlejuice looked startled. What did she say?!?, thought BJ.

Ari took a quick glance at her sisters. They knew what that look meant. Time to make someone feel good about themselves. That's what their mothers taught them. Rei blinked at the demon with glistening eyes.

- You look very fine! - Wait what the fuck is happening., thought Beetlejuice again. His hair started to change. It got a lot lighter.

- You really do. - said Sofía without even looking up from the box she was going through. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON SERIOUSLY?!?, thought Beetlejuice, now kinda panicking. A light pink streak appeared in his hair, and his stubble almost entirely turned pink at this point. Ari cleared her throat. Sofía looked up and pointed at the demon with a light sigh. - Look homeboy, I still have second thoughts about you, but it's a fact that you're a fine specimen. And it's coming from a chick who's into girls. - Beetlejuice leaned closer to the oldest sister with a toothy grin. Of course he had to cope with humour.

- Aww so I don't have a chance with ya? - Sofía raised an eyebrow.

- I'll seriously punch you in the face bro. - the demon laughed. Hah, cringey situation avoided.

- Seriously though, we love all body types in this household. - commented Rei. - And yours is very cute and fluffy. - NOPE NOT AVERTED, TIME TO DISAPPEAR, he thought as he started making smoke. - I understand now why Ari hugs you so many times. - that startled him. He looked down on the floor in embarassment, being unable to disappear he was so happy deep down in his little undead heart. He was never genuinely complimented. And these girls made him feel so nice...

- Oh calláte... - said Ari in a tiny voice as she looked down as well. Good thing BJ haven't seen her face was red as a tomato. Rei ponted at BJ with a gasp.

- AWMYGOSH YOUR HAIR! THAT'S SO CUUUUUTE! - Beetlejuice put his hands, all 4 of them on his totally pink hair.

- S...stop... This is so embarrassing! - he cried out. - You make me cringe at this mortal human bullsh... - he couldn't finish the sentence because Ari launched herself at his neck, pulling him down to a tight awkward hug. - Wha... No! - he said in an embarassed tone right after Rei scooted over with a giggle and hugged his knees. - NO STOP! - Sofía scooted over as well and ruffled his hair in a siblinglike way. - STOP! I HATE YOU ALL!!! - he shouted while trying to get away. But there was no escape from the girls' embrace who were all laughing at the suffering, pink demon at this point.

- Shut up, you like it! - said Ari right before she placed a sloppy kiss on the demon's face. He answered only with a shy smile and a certain pink glow to his body hair.

You can't imagine how much I do.

#alex brightman #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice oc #beetlejuice the musical #fanfic #fanfiction #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #musical!beetlejuice #beetlejuice broadway

[halorocks1214]

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orphan.

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

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

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

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

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I did?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to take over?...”

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

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

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

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

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was easy.

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

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

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

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

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

Back to said story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The response was instantaneous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

We’re all here now.

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

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

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

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

“It was… Zambia.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“I got him.”

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

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

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

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

Son of a bitch.

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

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This kid, man.

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

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

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

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

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

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

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

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

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

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

Alan saved them both.

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

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

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

There, now he watched Alan blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made it all worth it.

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

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #the hood #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #my post #my fic #series: rules of alchemy

[prof-peach]

Dear Professor, I recently adopted a buneary from a shelter after it was rescued from an unethical breeding program. He has the sadly coveted "Shiny" genes - and a bunch of health issues. I have no problem with keeping him healthy, but I am having issues with gaining trust with the little guy. Medication is a daily wrestling match and I can't help but feel like he resents my efforts given all the headbutts and punches. Any advice?

Oh man, I feel your troubles. I’ve been through exactly the same thing, it’s been about 8 years and my lopunny is still a handful. They can have very strong and assertive personality types, and are naturally very skittish and/or spiteful if you wrong them. It’s had a bad start, but it’s not the Buneary’s fault, and there are things that can be done.

First things first, let them have space. Apply vitamins and any necessary medication to the food they eat and leave them to it as much as you can. This little fella has no doubt forgotten how to be the young carefree Pokémon it was when it hatched, so making things fun and interesting can encourage them to join in. This process will be all about growing the Pokemon’s confidence, and then in turn, trust. If this is the only Pokémon you have, just play with toys or things that may spark interest for the Pokémon, such as plush toys and puzzle games. Mine is a real diva, so actually I got her to come to me with pampering, mud baths, soothing fragrances, and tall ice cold drinks. Anything less than ice and she kicked off again. Every Pokémon is different so take the time to explore many options, I guarantee they haven’t had exposure to a lot of fun things and while it’s not 100%, it will help show you are not a threat.

If you do have other Pokémon perhaps they can help by playing the games and engaging with you in fun activities to show to the Buneary that you are in fact just fine, and nothing bad will happen. Young Pokémon learn from others, so if it sees any other species interacting with you and nothing bad happens, it’ll slowly get a little closer over time. Some scheduled playtime is worth its reputation, and really lets pokemon grow and learn as a team, I always encourage trainers to do this regardless of how their teams behave, and try to make time for fun. In this case I do believe it’ll begin the breakdown of your new bud’s volatile ways.

Buneary can be diggers, and may enjoy tunnelling around in the dirt. This can be done in Pokémon parks where there are spaces for ground types, or in a garden. Applying pipes to soft dirt can encourage them to try it out, they may go in and enjoy it, start digging a bit ect. Again, you provide something for them, and they see that, the chances of them trusting you will slowly creep up.

Provide them a “safe zone” a space where no other pokemon can go, tell them they aren’t allowed in, and let Buneary know it’s theirs, provide cushions, blankets, and berries so they can naturally stash some and make the space their own. Some like to have hay too, but see what they prefer. They may move it to a different spot, this is fine, let them get on with what makes them comfortable. Giving Pokémon their own space to retreat to when things are too much can help them keep their anxiety down, and leads to a calmer attitude over time. It lets them take the time to collect themselves and try again when they feel braver.

Ambient Pokémon can help Buneary to settle a bit better, such as Chikorita, and Bounsweet. They give off a scent that settles nerves and makes for a very helpful aid in recovery of nervous Pokémon. It’s not to everyone’s tastes, because it adds another Pokémon to your house, but it’s important to know all the options.

This is not a quick solution, pokemon can carry trauma for their whole lives, but the aim is to simply make their life a little more comfortable. Maybe it’ll never be outgoing and social, maybe it’ll develop some triggers as you both explore together, maybe it will cry a lot. This is all to be expected, and just simply sit within sight of them and wait it out with them. You can try to be soothing, some respond well, or just sit quietly after stating that you are there if they need you, and wait for them to decide what they want.

A note, I’ve found this Pokemon’s typing and behaviour usually means they actually enjoy blowing off steam in battle, it’s not ready to listen to you if you give commands, but if it ever can become calmer and trust you a bit, perhaps offer it the chance to try and fight, it’s obviously got the strength and energy to use attacks. I think it’s something to keep at the back of your mind, a battle between Pokémon and trainer can bond the two, and some individuals enjoy the physical activity, in turn that can encourage them to feel strong and confident, becoming less likely to have a nervous streak.

Perhaps down the road, but until then good luck. I do hope you two can find a way to bond. Patience bud, that’s all it takes.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

[alyseofwonderland]

Alyse Reads The Goldfinch, Part 2

What follows is my best attempt at liveblogging. I had the books as an audiobook in hopes that I could keep it from taking even more of my life from me. This was perhaps a mistake. I think I broke Siri trying to make notes. The notes that are rambly are the ones I dictated.

I entirely blame @rollono​ for my suffering. But I am also aware that it seems to give her joy. 

Every time I reference Tara, I am talking about @wellntruly​ who’s own live blog of the book was the only roadmap I had to follow in this waterlogged wasteland of a novel.

Part 1

I thought Tara was making up the Camel-hair coat bit but APPARENTLY NOT.

Architecture has that much to do with the city and or northern Europe, really? I mean, “whitewash” doesn't everybody do that?

Nina ( @proud-librarian​ ) is going to have a lot to say about their descriptions of the Netherlands and Amsterdam in this book. like oh my God!

Theo Deckard doesn't understand how thermostats work.

This isn't satire? I don't understand we're like three minutes in and it has to be satire. right. right?

Who the hell says my mother and I didn't like my father much? like what.... what is this? what am I reading? what is happening? what.... I don't understand.... okay maybe fine whatever

This feels like it should be... I don't know.... satire is the word I'm looking for again. I don't want to just repeat what Tara, said but Jesus. the start of the story is he is rich enough to have a Doorman but not rich enough to afford the fancy private school, and him and his friends break into vacation homes in the Hamptons. what is this? what is this? I just... just.... just write a Jane Austen or Lord Byron novel if that's what you want to do just do that. do that.

My audiobook app just turned itself off in the middle of a passage because it decided I didn't need to listen to Theo talk about whatever he was talking about.

Curse you, Donna Tartt, for also being in the "all things coconut smell like suntan lotion" club. I did not want to have this in common with you.

I am laughing so hard it turns silent into my steering wheel because the audiobook reader makes Tom Cable sound like a surfer dude from the 70s,  and I. cannot. handle. that.

"I like to think of myself as a perceptive person" is basically the way that I know that Theo has about Harry Potter level skills of observation when it comes to the people around him.

Y'all this book would be so much better if Theo actually thought like a 13-year-old that he is supposed to be in the intro part. That would just be peak comedy, which is really what I'm looking for.

Audrey Decker and the Laura Moon from American gods are now the two people that I have ever known to call men "puppy" which I still find alarming, in both cases. Surprisingly they also both die, so I guess more things they have in common.

The longer this book goes on the more clear it is that I am not bougie enough for its contents. ( timestamp 30 minutes)

(GIF BY @rollono​ BY MY REQUEST FOR EVERY TIME THIS BOOK MAKES ME FEEL POOR)

I just can't suspend my disbelief enough to think that a 13-year-old would know this much about their parent's job and be able to ask questions. I'm trying to think of what my dad was doing when I was 13, and I mean I know where he worked, and I know who his boss was, but if you tried to ask me daily issues or me giving advice... oh my gosh. I just can't. nobody talks like this.

I’m making a face akin to Kermit the frog. 

I threw up in my mouth a little at the description of Pippa walking past in the museum.

Did we just describe a 12-year-old girl's arms as marble? is that what just happened? did I just have to listen to that?

Theo has given me a lot of like “Golden State killer” vibes right now with his desire to poke around through all these people's homes and stuff. like this is clearly the Visalia ransacker's motivation in the 70s. I know too much about true crime, that's what's happening right now.

The true-crime serial killer alarms keep going off in my brain.

I know Tara already mentioned how ridiculous the Murphys bed story is but it really is incredibly ridiculous and breaks the tension of the entire scene that is occurring at the time (laughed uncontrollably to the point that Siri typed nonsense)

I get it, Donna, you know things. You do not have list every fire truck to prove it.

Let's take a child to a dinner at 3 am. Really Donna?

Why does Donna insist on giving me the text of signs around whats going on? Why did I just listen to the smoothie specials while an emotional scene is occurring?

Donna, did you just call Mrs. Barough a weasel?  [afronted gasp]

OI!  (me shouting when Donna says that Andy was weird for being lactose intolerant.)

Pukes in my mouth a little at the term 'high verbal'. I get it, Donna, you think you are smarter than all of us stop being a dick.

Donna Tartt would make it to r/iamverysmart in like a minute if she understood how the internet worked.

WHO TAUGHT HER ABOUT FMA?

Okay, so either Donna Tartt knows someone who lost a parent and basing this off them or like went through it herself because I am white-knuckling through the grief bits trying not to have my own trauma response to the situation. Or she wrote Theo with like the exact grief I had. Her incessant need to list things in a room is the only thing between me and a spiral of remembering my dad's death.

ANDY IS A RAY OF LIGHT AND DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE IN THIS FAMILY OR IN THIS BOOK!

Five whole hours before the first sight of Hobie. Like Jesus.

I miss Terry Pratchett.

Hobie thank you for making this book interesting again.

Hobie is now my main squeeze and I won't hear a word against him.

POE DIDN'T INVENT SCIENCE FICTION FUCKING MARY SHELLY DID. DONNA WHAT THE FUCK.

The Hobie part of the story just makes me more sure that a version of the movie should have been without the Baroughers (sp?) and only included Hobie and Pippa.

Any is a murderino. I love this baby boy.

Aw, I love Hobie so so much.

Donna if you call Andy annoying one more time you are gonna catch my hands. (She just referred to his voice as annoying twice in a conversation and I swear to god I will rip this character out of her snobbish clutches she doesn't deserve him.)

Theo on this we agree, I too enjoy Hobie.

Hobie is the only person who belongs in this novel and he's a god damn delight.

SEVEN HOURS AND THE PAINTING HAS COME UP AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LITERAL HOURS.

Theo straight up using Spanish to fuck over his father is just *chef's kiss.

I can see how much contempt Donna has for Xandra is longer and deeper than this book will ever be.

I am going to suplex Larry Decker I swear to god. (i have a very particular trigger to spouses bad-mouthing the dead one due to personal experience.)

Necco wafers are no one's favorite candy Donna. You can't just say shit like that and expect anyone to believe you.

I have just realized that Donna Tartt has never been to a public library. How do I know? Witchcraft books are never on the shelves. Ask any librarian. They are stolen pretty much the moment we buy them.

I am standing dead in the tea aisle at the store because Theo just thought it would be “gay” to tell the doormen he has known almost his whole life he is gonna miss them.  (hours later I realize this is her backtracking in edits going "shit shit shit I have to add the repression in somewhere for those dumb readers that don't understand art" and I hate it more.)

Mrs. B is ready to physically fight Larry and I would pay real money to see it.

WHY DOES DONNA KNOW ABOUT DRAGON BALL Z?!? Step away from the things I love Donna I don't trust you near my media. (Also why she does reference it she clearly has NO concept of what DBZ hair would even look like to expect me to believe any child could achieve it.)

oh my god, Boris. I'm so happy to see you.

I am happy to report the audiobook narrator does not do an Australian accent for Boris. Thank the lord.

I knew I was going to love Boris but like a few minutes in I adore him.

It's interesting to me that Theo and Boris seem to have received similar amounts of attention/affection from non-parent adults, but while Theo finds it uncomfortable Boris soaks it in.

The Australian part of Boris's accent seems impossible.

*sobbing audibly into my keyboard* Popchyck

Boris you sweet like socialist.

Comrade Boris we need you in this election.

I'm sad he (Boris) doesn't get to go to college and like piss off every yuppie and hippie, and just make Philosophy 100 and Government 250 absolute hell for everyone.

Drunk Boris at Thanksgiving is a gift.

Me listening to this book before Boris: half paying attention, fucking around on my computer, doing chores. Me after Boris shows up: staring at the middle distance determined to listen to every fucking word because this prison sentence of a novel is finally interesting.

James: you said the author is a snob and you aren't enjoying the main character.  Me: yeah James: then stop reading it. Me: No, then Donna and her Anna Wintour knock off hair cut will win. James, frowning and backing out of the room: k sweetie.

6:30 am is too early to hear Theo Decker describe his bed as "our bed"

I WAS RIGHT. Boris belongs in college making every American white kid absolutely furious in every Poli-sci.

Larry Decker calling Theo and Boris his "kids" made my heart skip a beat.

So the nurse notices they don't have vitamins and smell but doesn't call child services. I mean I know that I learned that school nurses are less likely to call CFS on white kids than they are on black kids but like god damn.

The sheer salt of Theo refusing to learn the name of Boris’s girlfriend is so hilarious.

Now *this* is gay.

The truth is Theo is ready to cut a bitch.

Fellas is it gay to do shots while your boyfriend talks about his girlfriend?

Theo trying to set up Boris with like a nice polite girl who won't fuck him is fucking hilarious. This poor baby gay.

Theo (and Donna cuz she writes him) have never heard of learning disabilities and I will legit throw down.

LARRY IS A SCORPIO IN CANON?! I thought that was something from the fan fics. omg Ally hates this.

No one wears white sport coats Donna stop trying to make it happen.

Boris totally knows what's going on with Larry and he's just trying to look out for Theo because he loves Theo but oh my gosh Boris why do you make me feel so many feelings!

Please, Donna, I am begging you to stop telling me what the light from the sun looks like at different times of the day. I just can't take it anymore. Every scene of Theo in Xandra's house does not need the qualifier of what type of sunlight he is seeing. Some times fine. But every time?

My entire stomach just dropped when I realized what Boris has done, and I'm just I'm so sad. this is not how I wanna start my commute to work today.

I have just had my first moments of being very proud of Donna's writing, because long long time ago, in the same chapter, she had the bit about how Xandra will say "apparently" when she's being bitchy with Theo and now in a conversation where Theo isn't paying attention to her she says "apparently" to Larry and I just had to stop and say this, this is the writing I'm looking for Donna. This is clever and interesting and I LIKED IT. Stop making lists and do more of this.

Friendship ended with Book Boris, Movie Boris is my best friend now.

I don't understand how the director and the screenwriter of the film could move who said those lines and then not make it gay. Like, commit to your choice.

My mom: You finish that book yet? Me, angrily: No. My mom slightly worried: do you like it? Me: unclear.

NEW CHAPTER!

Theo, I need you calm all the way down when you are looking at Pippa.

Love this lawyer. I want to be his friend.

God poor Pippa. All the shit she goes through and she still has to put up with Theo's weird obsession.

Theo, you slid right back into the serial killer habits in a second and I want you to stop it.

Oh god, I feel that in my soul. Like "no sir you have it wrong I look more like the parent I like best." (also I do look more like my dad. like way more like him)

I am begging someone to get Theo some kind of hobby or help or something so he stops acting like a victorian ghost.

I am gonna have to get the actual book so I can see what weird spelling is going on with the text messages. I just know its weird. The narrator does it in such a weird voice.

We spent so much time dealing with emotional issues and other whatnot that going back to the bit about the painting feels like a huge tonal shift in the book. I'm like staggering around confused.

Literally no one uses strawberry shampoo.

Love that Theo ‘s final plan is the one Andy purposed an eon ago.

Salty that Theo is getting the cool college experience that Boris would have crushed.  I would have paid good money to watch him make the philosophy department cry.

[kermit in the car gif]

Yo! Theo struggling to deal with school is like exactly my semester after my dad died.  

The adults attempting to force him into different living arrangements is so what we dealt with post my dad’s death.

Grisha! (Russians the only people I trust atm)

Tara was right, Andy's death comes off like a joke!

I gotta say, Crime Theo is my favorite Theo so far.

I don't know which serial killer Donna was channeling to write the parts about Theo being obsessed with Pippa, but it is just so intensely a serial killer vibe I cannot even begin to describe the look on my face; the feelings I'm having. I'm just like this man is going to kill someone. he's going to kill a lot of people. not only that it's going to be a lot of women because he doesn't view them as people. that's what I'm getting from this it's. Theo doesn't think women are people.

If Theo was on reddit he would be part of r/niceguys and r/iamverysmart.

If I have to listen to him drone on about his fantasies of Pippa for one more minute I will kill myself in the baking aisle of Aldis.

HES HOARDING HER HAIR?! HER UNWASHED CLOTHES?!? Please someone put him in jail.

[the sound of me throwing up in the frozen food section as Theo describes Kitsey]

Donna don’t try to act like you didn’t add that foreshadowing yourself about Andy. You crack me up you relentlessly snob.

How is Theo just The Worst all the time?

Theo freaking out because two gay guys know what’s up with him is just *chef’s kiss

Me having seen only the movie: Theo and Boris should get redemption and a romance run away. Me now: [ gif of “Ive had enough of this guy” from IASIP]

I mean I understand that John Crawley was a coward in so many of his directorial choices, but the fact that he didn't put the second meeting of Theo and this Lucius guy into a crowded weird restaurant where they're both getting hit by the waiters as they go past is just the weakest move you could've made. because this makes it so much funnier.

I'm with Hobie.

honestly this book should've just been 20 hours of art crime and like to shave off a good 10 hours of LISTS because that's what 10 hours is. give me 20 hours of art crime. I would love to watch each sale happen that would've been riveting to read but instead.... this.

Bish, you like those earrings or I will cut you.

Theo salty, while Kitsey picks out new china, is so fucking hilarious.

him just like "why are we buying new plates when my job is literally to find plates that were made by craftsmen?!?!” but being too fucking repressed in his bullshit to say anything, so he just making some poor sales lady suffer.

my friend Ally: “Theo’s repression makes everyone suffer is a good summary of the book.”

Alternative version of this book that would have been 8 million times better: Theo gets into art crimes but is also a serial killer. We don't know the second bit but it begins to start dawning on us as women seem to disappear from his social circles and weird hints of thoughts about blood and rivers.  Bonus points if it ends with him on the run from the law with his only vaguely criminal (by comparison to serial killer Theo) boyfriend. We are left to wonder if they will be gunned down in the chase or if perhaps there will be one more body to great the river.

Theo's textbook serial killer nonsense is only comparable to the sheer petty gay energy he gives off.

The power trip he gets from being like "hahaha yes I have bagged the ice princess who wanted nothing to do with me when we were kids" is just so gross and hilarious.

Theo realizing he is not the only sociopath in the room is just *chef's kiss.

Boris, did you really send some guy to just watch your ex?

Boris, I am begging you. You have made Grisha so upset.

Donna shying away from describing Boris comes off, if you don't know who we are talking about, as weird and slightly racist.

You have the internet Theo, you can look up when movies are going to start. You are not living on the moors.

HOW IS THIS BOOK NOT A SATIRE OF AMERICAN PYSCHO FOR PEOPLE THAT HAVE BONERS FOR ANTIQUES?!?

Boris returns. I have almost forgiven him for what he put me through.

Maybe "fuck you" can be our always.

*tries not to cry when I realize that Boris' friends have heard about Theo

bless Aneurin for everything he did for this reunion in the movie.

Why is Boris such a slut? Why will I forgive him for anything?

Is it gay to think about the guy you used to jack off as handsome when you meet each other again?

Genetics means those kids can't be Boris' unless his mother was blonde. (Theo kind of agrees.)

My soul has left my body at the concept of Boris having a wife and kids.

I'm not saying I endorse crime, I'm just saying a mobster front with a pun in the name is really on-brand for me.

Knowing what I Know. That Boris thinks Theo is gonna try to kill him when they go for the "surprise" just makes the whole thing so tragic and sad.

Boris and his dog REUNITED AT LAST. I'm not crying. I'm fine.

Interesting that the next story we hear is about Gyuri's dead "brother" right after Boris says that Theo is "blood of his heart, his brother". Like. I might not be the biggest history buff in the world but I know gay code when I see it.

I mean I knew this was gonna happen, but I can't help but feel personally betrayed by Boris once again.

Donna, stay away from stuff about computers. Your attempts to use them make me, a technology expert, cringe.

Boris like "you don't deserve this dog. I deserve this dog."

"Babe I get that you are a WASP at heart but I need you to fight with me like a Russian now." - Boris to his disaster husband

"Did I lie?" "YES" (me laughing so hard I'm practically crying)

why does no one in this book appear to exchange numbers or like airdrop contact info.

Does Donna think that people only have iPhones?

Ally who is CTRL F reading this book "'Every few hundred pages she's like 'oh yeah, it's modern times...they're texting and there's emojis!' Seriously, there was the mention of emoji's and my soul escaped my body for a minute because it had no tether to time or space" @aces-low​

Off the top of my head, the name that Donna is not saying for this Horace to guy is Volkswagen.

Instead of being in the mob Boris should run an animal shelter.

Boris being Bitchy and jelly when Theo is talking to the German guy is just so cute. You two deserve each other with your weird shit.

If Donna wasn't a coward this book would have had Theo just getting eyeballs deep in art crime with Boris and his associates.

Adding a sin for making me listen to whatever that just was.

Things Donna forgot to list in "girl food": chicken wings, bread, rolls, other types of bread, garlic bread, a bit more bread, maybe cookies, eight more cookies, 20 more cookies, every type of chocolate humanly imaginable, jam, and barbecue ribs.

What do ankles have to do with being attractive?!?!?! this isn't the Victorian age! 

(from Ally re this comment: “I'm now convinced that every day Donna sat down to write this book she spun a wheel with different years on it, and that's the year the book was set that day”)

I didn't mind Kitsey cheating on Theo, because he doesn't even really like her. Until just now, when I realized that Mrs. B knows about it and she's keeping it from Theo, and my heart broke into 1 trillion pieces. she is the closest thing he has to a mother and he realized that she kept it from him, and I should not be crying in my car before my special Valentine night dinner.

James just walked in during a part describing Pippa and goes "Men writing women, huh?" and I had to pause the book, turn to him and say "a woman wrote this" and he just looks at me like 0_0

Mrs. B clutching Theo's hand so he won't leave her alone with Smalltalk-old-man is honestly the cutest thing in this entire book.

Hobie being able to be spotted from a distance at all times! I have a friend who is 6'5" and we can find him in crowds so easily!

Perhaps the funniest moment of this book is Theo saying "if girls loved assholes then Pippa would love me". buddy I'm going to post this entire book to r/niceguys

I WANT MORE ART CRIME! Why did you make me listen to 15 hours of boring nonsense when we could have had ART CRIME!

I deeply enjoy Boris's commitment to being a dramatic goofball, falling to his knees just be annoying.

Movie Boris appears in a dramatic way. Book Boris is just like there and also shoving food in his face and walking out of the party still eating all the food he just put in his cheeks like a chipmunk.

Hobie just like "if you want to run off with your gay love i'll cover."

Theodor Decker you get back in there and make sure that thief stays away from Nicole Kidman she has been through enough already!

Theo, I know that you don't actually have brains for anything besides drugs, crimes, being weird about women, and your own ass, but you could at least listen when people speak.

Theo is such a mess. He doesn't belong in modern times. He deserves to be Jack the Ripper.

I know the narrator is saying croissant the "correct" way. But every single time it happens I'm so fucking confused because who just leans into a french accent that hard for a single word?

Theo offers an actual good idea that Boris is going to use later and they all look at him like he's crazy.

I know "my brand" is "man holding gun" but listening to Boris assemble a gun I'm like "oh goodness I need to lay down". *fans self

Theo suddenly "I have made a huge mistake"

It's interesting to me how reluctant Boris is to make Theo a larger part of the heist. Theo reads it as frustrating but I read it like a kind of care and affection. He doesn't want his friend mixed up in something he can't handle, despite the fact that he wants Theo close so he can get him the painting back.

I see now why the heist in the movie was so fucking confusing. You need the Horst stuff and like a bunch of other nonsense that does not translate well to screen unless you re-write all the connections, which John Crowley was not willing to do.

Really love the "women drop their mark the first time" bit.

me: Theo I swear to god stop being high and sick in your room and go get some actual clothes and medication or at least don't make me listen to so much of it

this book is not 30 hours long. its 15 hours of a book and 15 hours of Donna going "gotta get that word count up or people with think I'm weak". Please, Donna. I don't need to hear this one thing happen for so long. It adds nothing to the tone, the themes, the plot, or the ambiance. You are just writing words for words sake.

The first suicide note was so well crafted that I honestly want Theo to kill himself now. If he can manage to write the others pretty okay I will be happy with this ending.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that the ghost of a dead loved one appeared on Christmas Eve.

I'm sorry who doesn't respond to "didn't you get my text?" with "my phone was dead" instantly?

me listening to Theo throw a tantrum at Boris because neither of them is capable of explaining themselves and like speaking as normal humans do: "It would have been better if Theo died"

Why must I be forced to listen to Donna make these scenes longer because these people don't talk like people?

Thud by Terry Pratchett does a much much better job of asking the question "can we trust our hearts and be the person we want to be?" And it honestly gives a better answer. And has you know, clever writing.

I thought it was like Over. I did. I was like "oh this is it wrapping up" ONLY THERE IS 30 MORE MINUTES AND I WANT TO SCREAM!

Me certain the book is over: i mean maybe this is a good ending

Me seeing i still have 30 more minutes: this is the worst book ever

This book held me fucking captive for over a week and all it left me with was like a few good lines, burning hatred for the main character, and the desire to go into Donna's home and rearrange all her stuff. 

also, I now hate antiques. out of spite.

don't read The Goldfinch. it's not worth it y’all.    

#jabberwockytalkies #words #donna tartt i just wanna talk #the goldfinch #alyse watches stupid movies #theodore decker #boris pavlikovsky #larry decker #xandra #donna tartt #this book beat me up and took my money and my will to put up with men

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Real Story Behind The Annabelle Doll, And The Other Haunted Dolls You Need To Know About

If you’ve been living under a rock for like, the last, I don’t know, 6 years, then you won’t know squat about the creepy doll phenomenon that’s currently haunting our TV and cinema screens (and at this rate, our nightmares too).

Even though this newer trope combines all the basic-bitch horror movie plot lines – and holes – worthy of scoring a solid ‘rotten tomato’ on IMBD, it turns out that there is a good deal of truth to these tales of terror.

And this is bound to continue with the release of the newest instalment in The Conjuring universe: Annabelle Comes Home (2019).

This film seeks to document her existence in Ed And Lorraine Warrens Occult Museum – an actual place where she still is – and centres around the Warren’s daughter unleashing the dark spirits (and/ or demon) contained within this spooky-ass doll.

And so, it is time to reflect on the real story behind Annabelle herself, and the other haunted dolls in existence.

#squadgoals.

But first, here’s a quick recap of the Annabelle film saga:

Annabelle’s done pretty well for herself.

She’s featured in 4 horror hits, and has even starred in 3 self-titled movies to boot. We meet her first in The Conjuring as an introduction to the Warrens and she is effectively used to combat a classic horror film trope: all scary movies start with the obligatory first 30 minutes where they introduce the characters, the peaceful home setting, and the references to past trauma which will be once again inflicted later on. Then they get going with the stuff you actually paid for.

But not here, not in The Conjuring.

Annabelle is used to give us a taste of the terror that awaits us once we get past the opening titles. And lord, she does it well. We also get introduced to the basic-bitch doll hauntings that go hand in hand with any horror film; doors moving, writing on notes and on the ceiling, the classic rocking chair, and any other generic hauntings you can pull out of your ass and type up into a screenplay.

Anyway, the story of Annabelle across the films so far is that a child called Annabelle dies, and the parents call upon all the higher powers – yes, all the higher powers – in the midst of their grief to allow her to return.

‘Something’ pretends to be their daughter, and upon witnessing such things, they give this ‘Something’ permission to enter the doll.

The ‘Something’ then proceeds to fuck shit up, and thankfully the parents lock away the doll with all of the protections necessary. Round of applause, everyone.

Cue entrance of young, innocent girls – who, just so happen to be orphans because tropes – who accidentally unleash the terror of the doll. That special ‘something’ trapped within Annabelle is unleashed and possesses one of the girls; she escapes, gets adopted whilst pretending to not be a demon (easier said than done, actually), and years later kills her adoptive parents after she hunts down the original Annabelle doll, and cries onto it to re-possess the doll.

This takes us to the first movie – which, yeah, it’s not great, not worth a watch – and ends with Annabelle being purchased from an antique shop, supposedly as a gift for the owners we met in the first Conjuring flick.

And it turns out that whilst the totality of the events aren’t completely true, the tagline of ‘based on a true story’ isnt too far-fetched.

The real-life Annabelle is one of the most renowned paranormal objects in the world, and her fellow haunted friends all seem to tie into the theory that is brought up in The Conjuring: Vessel theory.

Simply put by the Warrens, the doll (like any object) is a vessel for spirits and demons, namely those that want to enter you.

I mean, they could at least take you out for a drink first, god.

The films focus on this invitation aspect, channelling the vampiric vibe of being allowed in, and stick to the classic line of thought: the entities want your soul for a purpose to become idk alive again and no one really understands why but goddamnit it sounds intense.

And as it is a film, it sticks to a simplified version of the actual theories behind haunted dolls in order to cram in as many empty jump scares.

In actuality, there’s a lot more to the theories behind haunted objects, and the rumours of the objects themselves, than is given attention to in Annabelle’s film saga.

The actual theories behind haunted dolls

There are 3 sides to theory that we need to consider here: that of cursed objects, ceremonial objects, and a concept called ‘spirit binding’.

The film groups Annabelle in with the first category, but makes mention of the second group when it comes to introducing the Warren’s museum. Cursed objects come about when energies become attached to objects, and these vessels also are utilised in the ceremonial world.

The earliest history of haunted dolls sticks to this purpose, and its only when the age of the occult hits in the 20th century that stories like Annabelle’s start popping up.

Think effigies or voodoo dolls; anything that can be used for mystical purposes, was. It was believed that spells could transfer person to poppet, and were used to place curses on unfavourable community members.

This enforced binding of spirits to objects is the core of the theory, and still continues today under that rather obvious alias of ‘spirit binding’. Nevertheless, today’s process is rather more positive, and involves rather less-terrifying-small-children-horror-film tropes.

Vessels are laid out, and attachment or banishment rituals are applied. These objects can be taken with you on your adventures to ensure spiritual protection, or to channel some serious spirit squad goals.

And this is what the film gets wrong; the objects discussed here are spirit-based. Nowhere in the theories are demons mentioned, and even in the Bible it is claimed that demons cannot attach themselves to inanimate objects.

It’s this ambiguity used in the films to mis-mash the human possession and object possession together, and the ‘based on the true story’ spiel stops there. And speaking of true stories, it’s now time to discuss all the terrifying tales surrounding our favourite haunted dolls.

The actual Annabelle story

The true story behind this infamous doll sticks closely to the brief encounter detailed in The Conjuring.

Basically, a nurse is given a doll in the twilight years of the occult, in 1975. And shit gets weird. Think the normal hauntings, from noises, to the doll moving by itself.

Concerned, they go to a medium who claims it’s the spirit of Annabelle Higgins. Believing it to be an innocent girl, they treat the spirit and doll nicely. Unfortunately, shit gets weirder.

In a time of desperation, they turn to the Warrens, who say that this is not an innocent spritely spirit. It’s a demon.

The doll is then stored away in the Warren’s museum in a case from which the doll cannot be touched, and it is here that she still resides.

But before you turn out the light to sleep knowing she is stowed away somewhere safe, bear in mind that there are quite a few cases that mirror Annabelle’s story, and although they are rather diverse in the doll-spirit relationship, they are all creepy as fuck.

The true stories behind the rest of Annabelle’s Spooky Squad

Annabelle’s rival in the paranormal world is none other than Robert the Doll. This little fella is reportedly possessed by ‘spirits’, but don’t let the vagueness of this possession fool you. As the original inspiration for Chucky, this doll certainly upholds a level of fame among those intrigued by the paranormal, and the backstory to our least favourite horror film villain starts with a bloke called Otto.

In 1906, Otto was presented a doll – fit in Robert’s sailor’s uniform – by a servant who was known to practice black magic and voodoo.

Yep, that was a definite red flag.

It was believed that the servant’s worship and frequent summoning of spirits possessed this creepy-ass doll. Indeed, he is so haunted that it is rumoured that you must ask to take a picture of him, or you will be haunted by those that take up residency in him.

Next up is Lotta the Doll.

It’s 1972, and some bloke called Kerry Whalton decides to wander around an abandoned building because why not. And its inside this building that he finds a marionette doll.

A quick trip to the archives, and a chance flick through the library books later and he calculates that this doll is believed to contain the spirit of a boy who once lived an odd 200 years before. The building he walked into that fateful day was the property of a man whose son drowned, and his final resting place is inside this doll.

It moves, it emits a pulse, dogs bark at it and attempt to attack it, and paintings fall when in its presence.

Oh, and when it’s put outside, it starts to rain.

Another famous doll is known as the Paula Ubin Barbie.

In 1914, a girl fell of a cliff and subsequently died.

In memoriam of her tragic death, a monument was constructed, and in it was her personal crucifix and a rather large amount of her hair.

Following her passing, a local resident began to have rather peculiar dreams. And in these dreams, a little girl would lead him to a toy shop, and pick out her favourite toy – a barbie.

He took the doll to the monument, and upon setting it down claims he felt the spirit transfer into the barbie and it is believed that her spirit found peace.

Our two final dolls stick to pretty standard supernatural goings-on.

Mandy does the usual: you hear the sound of footsteps, other dolls are knocked over, and she even has her own display case. And Pupa? She bangs on the case, changes position, and even fucks off when she wants to.

Honestly, do they not know how haunted dolls are supposed to behave?

#annabelle #annabelle 2 #Annabelle 3 #Annabelle comes home #Annabelle real #the conjuring annabelle #the conjuring #Ed and Lorraine Warren #ed and Lorraine warren museum #Annabelle imbd #real ghost stories #haunted doll #possessed doll #paranormal evidence #horror films #horror #movies #paranormal #supernatural #stories

[talesfromtheindigoghost]

Good Intentions: Entry 4

The noise ringing through my mind was like trying to tell someone you were on the phone with about a movie, only to get tired of explaining and just held the phone up to the TV.

Screams of the thing in front of me’s regret rang through my skull, a hateful symphony of slammed doors and shattered lives pounding to the melody of a poorly tuned violin accompanying a macabre dance. Every demon I had imagined when I started shampooing my hair had made itself known to me with desperate hunger and empty hatred.

Before I could even begin to think of an appropriate way to react the thing closes the short distance from the door to the tub and sends me slamming against the freezing cold porcelain with an unintended shoulder tackle.

You ever get that moment of panic when you’re in the shower? That sudden sense of dread that convinces you that you’re about to slip and break your neck at any given moment? It’s usually inspired by dropping something or not feeling as completely sure footed as you expected to in that half a moment that feels exactly like leaning too far back in your chair and realizing you’re teetering over the edge.

My inspiration let out a horrifying and meaty screech as flecks of toxic bile and tar flew out of its dish water oatmeal mouth. An uncomfortably thick and hot mound of quivering mush violently ripped open, only to clamp down just as suddenly onto my shoulder. The dull pressure shocked me far more than any tooth or claw ever could, the thing’s obsessive jaw, or what’s passing for it, suddenly becoming a gross tourniquet as it kept me pinned against the wall.

I have no idea who I’m so furious with, whose very existence drags me to the depths of hell and its boiling lakes of rage. I can feel every bit of the thing that used to be someone’s grudge, every idle thought of dark violence or worse tightens its inhuman vice grip as I let out my own howling screaming. I hear the bone in my arm splinter before I start to feel it a solid moment later.

The radio static in my skull hisses louder, an ear piercing electronic squeal resonates through my mind until the picture comes into the view. I can hear the person this thing used to be sobbing into a glass of water after their final meal. I can taste all of the chemicals and poisons the water washes down. I can feel myself swallowing my own hatred, seething from the very depths of my soul that my death poisons someone else with regret.

The crushing creaking of my arm snaps me back to reality with a sickening pop. I hear something heavy and wet slap against the edge of the tub.

I’ve been through a lot of physical traumas in my life. Fifty times back and forth, after all, I would say it’s downright reasonable to assume I have. They were always relatively quick and painless. Slow and quiet. The kinds of things your mind doesn’t like to let itself dwell on for too long or else it’ll just ruin your day. My point is that I’ve experienced pain and shock before.

I’ve never experienced losing an arm.

I don’t care for that shit one bit, now that I think about it.

We scream together, the noises blurring together with the crashing red river pouring out of where my arm used to be. I found myself lost in that indescribable haze of death I had gotten so familiar with over the years. Blindly feeling my way through the darkness and confusion of being confronted by the monsters of our mistakes, like a starving beast that stumbled into the open back door of a butcher’s shop during payday.

Whoever the person this thing used to be had died alone. I know his life story the moment I sink my teeth into its neck in sheer desperation. His poisonous entitlement flood my mouth with tar and the deep, hateful taste of his woeful sexual frustration. I chew through waterlogged grey flesh covering my prize, the demon’s intruding desires to flay and gnash the skin of the women that denied him.

I feel everything within me become violent disgust. I live through every excruciating moment of the person this thing used to be’s life and turn around to see reality coming to splash ice water down my exposed spine. I experience the sensation of being a monster. I feel the warm blood pour over me as I end lives after I’ve violated them. I feast on their fear as they beg me for mercy. I grow drunk on the power of denying it. I crave more, I demand more. I deserve more. They should be grateful that I they had the opportunity to make me feel good.

I feel my pride and power melt away as I read the letter from someone who knows what I am.

I realize that even in death this monster can’t help but violate people.

My stomach growls and I remember my hunger.

I bite through the thin, pathetically weak vine of black licorice and feel its entire body go limp and slide away from me. The haze of death lifts like rain clouds after a storm and lets the shining sun and rainbows of euphoria fill me with an inner sense of peace and balance as I understand that this accursed demon will no longer torment the innocent.

It felt great, right up until I noticed that I was being pulled down by the dissolving blackened carcass that no longer pinned me up against the tiles. It took me half a moment to understand that I no longer had an arm to catch myself before I fall and break my neck on the side of the bath tub.

I close my eyes as the second half of the moment is spent accepting what was about to happen.

I never remember how I get here. Not at first, at least.

It’s always the same, yet it feels like it’s the first time this has ever happened.

At least, I thought so at first. I’m not alone this time. The person that thing used to be had taken its place on the ground beside me, both of us climbing to our feet in front of that gaudy gated community and its obnoxiously overstated security gate.

I look up from the jarring sight of my whole, intact arm and notice that Peter is already on his walkie talkie with a look that shows he’s just as surprised to see me as I am to be here. My gut tenses, the lead weight of anger yanks my guts into my knees and spills the contents of my heart from my mouth in a bloody and furious geyser of righteous ire.

“What in the fuck are you doing here?”

I roar at the pathetic monster whose sins had just torn my arm off and broke my neck. I don’t even feel myself hesitate from marching up to Peter’s desk and slamming my fist down on top of the golden “Ring For Service” bell situated right in front of the nervous man awaiting a response on his radio.

“What in the fuck is he doing here?”

Peter stammered and fumbled over his words, his eyes darting back and forth between the monster and I in apparent confusion, weakly shirking the responsibility of an answer through halfhearted shrugs and another plead into his walkie talkie for someone to come to the gate.

I’m so insulted at the notion that this monster, this vile and unforgivable creature, is even allowed to approach what appears to be heaven. I’m so angry that I don’t even care that we’re both still completely nude and, even further unnoticed, whole and human once more.

Not even the soothing hymns floating serenely through the golden breeze, lighting up the clouds softly with its love and profound purpose could distract me from the overwhelming indignation of knowing the monster responsible for every single one of its horrific life experiences that I had been made to relive was being entertained the opportunity to plead for entry into what I can only assume is a peaceful eternity.

Peter and I were so caught up in this sudden, unexpected confrontation that neither of us had noticed the sorry excuse for what may be considered human trying to jump the shimmering gold fence. It wasn’t until I saw it wobbling and threatening to bend forward under the murderer’s weight that I understood just how flimsy and decorative the fence itself was.

Whatever either of us were about to say or do was violently interrupted by the sound of three rapid gunshots as the monster’s chest exploded outward into a spray of meaty confetti across the clouds and its head simply ceased to be.

In the blink of an eye he, and any evidence of the scene that had just unfolded vanished. Out of sight, and just as suddenly, out of mind.

I turn just in time to see a cowboy proudly slipping a golden six-shooter back into an ornate fast draw holster around his waist. He shoots me a wink and tips his ten gallon hat with a knowing grin, the ringing in my ears easing and fading into an easily dismissed memory of annoyance. It’s easy to see that Peter is just as stunned as I am at how abruptly this situation has been forcefully diffused

I find myself holding my hands up in uncertainty, an unease I don’t think I’ve ever felt in the times I’ve been here. I take a bit of comfort in seeing that I’m not the only one here that’s uncomfortable as the tall, intimidating law man steps forward with both hands resting confidently around a huge, audacious belt buckle in the shape of a shining star emblazoned with a flaming sword.

“Well howdy there, fellas.”

Peter stands up straight and adjusts his suspenders and name tag, coughing lightly in an attempt to find his bearings with a stern, yet frazzled face.

“It took you long enough. I specifically asked you to try and be here before either of them got here.”

It wasn’t hard to see how little this towering cowboy cared about punctuality with the casual, yet shockingly firm way he clapped a hand onto my shoulder in near perfect time with the gate swinging open to welcome us both.

“You and I need to have a talk about the mess you’ve got yourself into, son.” His words hit me like a series of left hooks and dazzling footwork, sending me into a stumbling stupor and making it all the easier for the strange figure with all the charisma and commanding presence of the toughest sheriff in all of the wild wild west.

I manage to break the trance for a moment as we approach another office just beyond an unrecognizable wall of clouds that the obnoxiously golden gate were built into. I can’t seem to get the words out but thankfully stopping in your tracks with an expression of confusion is fairly universal, even here.

“Right, I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. Introductions.”

Before I know it, his strong and powerful hand is gripping me in a handshake that overwhelms me with its command for respect. The kind of strength that makes a man tremble in awe and question every single one of his life choices.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, I’m a fan of your work. You can call me Michael.”

--

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/indigoghost ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/indigoghost twitter: https://twitter.com/theindigoghost

#Good Intentions #Horror #Fiction #horror story #writing #cw: suicide mention #cw: abuse

[theythemsam]

spn 14x15, liveblog, collected posts (all 24 of them) or as i like to call it: sastiel time!!!

That poor Griffin dude…

#asdfgh #he gets his phone stole and then theres gore on his kitchen table

 Sam having flashbacks to the dead hunters :(

#baby

 Sam’s also so tired, he’s definitely not sleeping well

 Charming Ackers is such a quaint little town

 Also the implications that Cas knows when Sam is sleeping… bc there’s the possibility that he watches Netflix in his room… bc they are gay……

 Ohhh, so there’s also a Justin huh…

#if were also gonna get a travis im gonna scream! #how funny would that be asdfghj

 Jack is like “oh that poor snake is depressed’ and keeps it in a way too little box with no enrichment at all asdfgh

#pls somebody give that child some pointers and don’t let him raise that snake all by himself

 The way she looks Cas up and down after saying “Morals. You gotta have morals.”

#she deffo reads him as gay asdfghjk

 Sam is already acting so weird asdfgh

 The Justin dude is going through a “this is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife” moment ala Mo and I love it

#this episode is very gay #also yes I just reread a few strips of dykes to watch out for what about it?

 Dean trying to see how far Jack is gone with the use of food

#such a dean thing to do asdfgh #the music gets so intense too

 “The very nice, the very tall fella”

#me talking about Sam

 “I’m looking for my partner”

#this is very gay

 “Hair. He has beautiful hair.”

#asdfhh #this episode is so gay #Mrs Smith is really interesting though #like the actress is really good she plays her just on the edge

 As much as I hate it that Sam’s being brainwashed (again) as well as the fact that literally everybody in town is being brainwashed (and forced into relationships they don’t want… and Oh No, the other stuff that maybe unfortunately goes along with that whole thing… also there are children in this town… ://///), I absolutely adore every word out of Justin!Sam’s mouth bc he is very funny

 I love Justin’s cute little pony tail

#and also his absolute disgust at Cas’s bad language

  I really enjoy the way they use the coffee to symbolize how Donatello feels

#its big sexy

 Donatello: “Jack is super dangerous probably!” Jack: waves like a cinnamon roll

 “What, you think it was the milkshakes?”

#SHUT UP

 The Major is such a creepy talkative asshole

#be quiet thot #’no but I have a feeling youre gonna tell me’ asdfgh cas calling him out is good

 Getting to see Cas be an actual great fighter is Big Sexy

 All I can think of is the gag reel rn, but I still love that scene

#you cant fail because if you do you fail Jack! You fail Dean! #and then smooch #because the power of gay love can pierce through the veil of death #and also of mind control #AMEN!

 Sam getting to acknowledge at least a little bit of his trauma surrounding the Bunker…

#like that’s a frigging terrible place for him to be #and while I do want him to be a home #i don’t know if I like the bunker to be it #just bc of how many terrible things have happened to Sam in there already

 Jack just… killing that poor little snake is the worst. No. Give her a good environment to live in, not a boring plastic box and I promise you that snakes gonna be a lot happier.

#jack voice: I see a depressed person I floor it

#spn 14x15 #collections #r@pe counter is at 2 #sam liveblogs

[jbuffyangel]

Timeless 2x11 Reaction: “The Miracle of Christmas Part 1 and 2″

And thus Timeless is officially over. How did the writers fair with the series finale aka The Timeless movie? Pretty freakin’ fantastic.

Let’s dig in...

It’s been several months between Timeless’ Season 2 finale and their series finale tonight, so the writers wisely include a “Previously on Timeless.” We flashback to all their adventures while Unhappy Future Lucy (who looks a little scary if I’m being honest) narrates. It helps because I seriously forgot her mother is dead. (They kill Susanna Thompson on every damn show!)

The beginning is a little jarring because storylines I expected to happen in a season or two are all happening RIGHT NOW. My brain needs time to downshift, but I eventually adjust.

First things first - dealing with the third point in the love triangle, Garcia Flynn. Timeless isn’t interested in drawing out the shipper war because Wyatt and Lucy are kind of a mess. They require some screen time so they are fixed in a realistic manner. 

Scary Future Lucy gives Present Day Lucy and Wyatt her diary. Spoiler alert: Lucy hooks up with Flynn. Spoiler alert: They break up sometime down the road because she is really in love with Wyatt. They play out Lucy and Flynn’s entire relationship in under 3 minutes. I’m not joking when I say they breeze through three to four seasons worth of triangle.

I love Goran Visnjic, and while I adore Lucy and Wyatt, I was never opposed to Lucy and Flynn. I mean yeah he’s a murderer. That’s a real negative, but it’s friggin Goran Visnic. Have you seen this guy? He’s so hot. Where Dr. Luca goes so goes my nation.

Kidding aside, the writers convey the depth of Lucy and Flynn’s relationship with just a few lines, which is an impressive writing achievement. I love how Flynn is all “I can’t believe you date me because I tried to kill you a bunch of times.” HAHAHA. Classic. And true! Ah the joy of television romance. But it ain’t gonna be you Flynn, so mosey along big fella. 

Jessica is not pregnant. UGH. I HATED THIS STORYLINE SO MUCH. 

I appreciate the writers giving it a fast and hard death, but this is one of the ways I think Season 2 went wrong. Timeless is a show that defied the typical television tropes and that’s what made it so interesting in Season 1.  However, I think their Season 2 renewal, and desire to snare more viewers, created a “throw everything, but the kitchen sink” mentality. 

They used every romance trope they could think of in Season 2 to see what would stick. It was just... not good. I don’t blame Timeless anymore than I do any other show that does this (and it’s pretty much all of them). It was just disappointing to see the show move in this direction, when previously they’d been so good at avoiding those kinds of storylines.

Flynn sacrifices himself by going back to 2012 to kill Jessica, so Rufus never dies. REDEMPTION ARC BITCHES!!! YESSSS!! 

Seriously, he is so bad ass. Flynn puts a couple bullets in Jessica (plus one extra to be sure) after a ninja knockdown fight. He knows the effects of traveling to his own timeline will kill him... or something. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Then he watches 2012 Flynn with his beautiful and living family through a window before he dies. 

Flynn leaves a goodbye letter for Lucy that pretty much says he loves her, but he knows she loves Wyatt and he wants her to be happy. So yes, GARCIA FLYNN sacrifices himself for Rufus, ensures Lucy and Wyatt find the happy ending they deserve even though he is in love with Lucy, helps stop Rittenhouse and save the world. I AM SO EMO ABOUT MY BOY RIGHT NOW!

As for Lucy and Wyatt, they tiptoe around each other for most of the two hours. Wyatt thinks she ends up with Flynn and Lucy doesn’t want to be second choice. They are the only two who remember the Jessica history. Dear God, can we all forget too? Everyone is pretty much, “Why aren’t y’all together because y’all were together before and it was perfection?” So meta.

Wyatt almost dies in an explosion while delivering a baby during the fall of North Korea. Yes, you read that correctly. WYATT LOGAN IS HERE TO SAVE NATIONS AND DELIVER BABIES!

Lucy realizes she almost lost Wyatt and they are wasting time worrying about the past. 

This part of the finale feels really predictable to me. There’s no way they are killing off Wyatt, especially after Flynn dies. Lyatt is endgame, so the two characters dancing around it for so long feels like prolonging the inevitable.

“After that explosion I thought you were dead. And for a moment I saw my whole life without you and my world ended Wyatt.”

But damn though, what a speech Lucy gives him. 

Honestly, it is slightly annoying she did most of the talking because Wyatt is the one who screwed up. At least he offers up a “I wanted to pick you Lucy, but I felt I owed Jessica because she was my baby mama” explanation. Of course, we all knew this. 

Lucy accepts Wyatt’s “I am a big pine tree” explanation because facts. Things really get cooking with some Lyatt mistletoe kissing. 

Source:  sisterzelda

Ah, a time honored holiday trope I will never grow tired of. Then they have sex

BUT CUT AWAY TOO SOON! Boo NBC!

Rufus is alive, but doesn’t remember being dead. Jiya remembers Rufus being dead, but he doesn’t remember Jiya living in Chinatown for three years in the 1800s. I think. 

Jiya is concerned she’s no longer the woman Rufus fell in love with (re: see three years of trauma). I argue Rufus fell in love with a bad ass and Jiya is still most certainly one. It is frustrating how quickly they had to go through her physical and emotional trauma from Chinatown. Ugh, this is some seriously important drama that could have been a multiple season deep dive. Stupid cancellation.

Rufus and Jiya realize they are still perfect for each other, because they are perfect for each other. They start a company together and become billionaires saving the world. Jiya’s hair color is extremely pretty in the final scenes too. I feel this is very important detail to include. I heart them. 

Source:  katie-mcgraths

Lucy and Wyatt discuss how they don’t want to become scary Lucy and Wyatt from the future and THEY DON’T BECAUSE OF FLYNN. They get married, Wyatt works for Agent Christopher on special projects, and Lucy is a tenured history professor who focuses on important historical women. BECAUSE THERE AIN’T NO TIME FOR THE MEN! That’s right fellas. Drink your tea and wait your turn.

Unfortunately, Lucy is not able to get her sister Amy back. She gives an poignant speech about grief and loss, which could be the show’s mission statement. This is how you write a series finale:

"Everybody loses someone they love. And no matter how badly they want to they can't get them back. In spite of that they find a way to go on. That's everyone's history." 

What connects all of time is our humanity. We are born. We live. We love. We suffer grief, pain and loss. We find joy. We endure. This is the thread century after century. In the end, we aren’t so different after all. 

THEN LUCY AND WYATT GET MARRIED 

Source: @splitscreen

AND HAVE TWIN GIRLS NAMED FLYNN AND AMY. 

Source: @splitscreen​

ALERT!!!!!!!!!! MULTIPLES CONCEIVED! IT IS THE DREAM! EVERYTHING IS AMAZING!!!! 

The final scene is 2023 Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus traveling to 2014 to tell Garcia Flynn about the time machine. Lucy tells Flynn he doesn’t lose his humanity even though he never gets his family back. He is the hero the team and the world needs in the end. It connects the beginning and end of Timeless so seamlessly. This was probably always going to be the bookend. I just wish we had a few more seasons in between it.

They hint at a future time machine being invented by a young girl Rufus took an interest in at the science fair. The morality of the time machine is debated between Agent Christopher and Connor. She wants to destroy it, but Connor argues they need to keep it so they can stop others from abusing its power. You can’t un-invent something. Someone sooner or later will create the same technology Connor and Rufus did. They have a responsibility to make sure time travel is not abused and another Rittenhouse does not rise. So, the time machine is kept, covered, guarded and waiting.

Do I think we’ll see a resurrected Timeless about this girl and her time machine? No. I don’t. This is the last stop on the Timeless train and, while it was a wonderful ride, it is over. Actors are released from contracts. Writers, producers, crew, etc have all moved on to other gigs. It’s a freaking miracle they even made the movie. (Apropos episode title).

Timeless approached the series finale the correct way, which is what’s important to me. They didn’t leave a bunch of loose ends. The world was saved and I saw all our beloved characters living their happy lives in peace. I need to know these characters are going to be okay, so I can say goodbye. 

Thank you Timeless for the insightful way you approached history, your cast of wonderful characters, humor and unflinching honesty. I look forward to the streaming deal so I can rewatch again and again.

Source:  yasmin-khan

Stray Thoughts

The finale is one EPIC Lucy speech after another. My girl runs this show.

Nobody was dressed appropriately for a North Korea winter. 

It looked like the mother threw her newborn into Wyatt’s arms as her son came running to her. LOL Nice catch, soldier.

"I've loved you since the Alamo." Girl is that ever right. 

Don't mock. Saint Christopher is for REAL. He has helped me out of many jams.

Hahaha. Wyatt said m'am. That's how you know it's the end.

#timeless #timeless review #timeless series finale #timeless 2x11 #the timeless movie #lyatt #lucy preston #wyatt logan #rufus carlin #jiya marri #rufus x jiya