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studioghibelli · 10 days

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leather & lace- a joel miller x reader series

chapter one: the silver stallion.

summary: an untamed cowboy and the sheriff's daughter. an outlaw and a goodie two shoes. a hardened piece of leather and a perfect cut of lace. at first glance, you and joel miller are polar opposites, yet somehow fate has managed to tangle you both up in the same spool of yarn.

“You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be. I search only for something I can't see. I have my own life, and I am stronger than you know.”

warnings: violence (guns, blood, death.) enemies to lovers, an unspoken companionship of convenience, this is sort of a soulmate au? in a very thematic and metaphorical sense, age gap (50’s Joel, 20s reader), themes of guilt and betrayal, domestic abuse. if i missed any, please kindly let me know. thank you!

A silver stallion was galloping across the vast canopy of the dusty sky, illuminating the distant mountains with a sheen of gentle moonlight. It had been a harsh, dry summer, followed by an uninspired autumn, but soon the loving hand of winter would blanket the land in her snowy glory.

The town of Ruby Springs stood glimmering at the base of a mountain, the golden light of dingy hotels and busy saloons flickering in the darkening air.

It was warm, inviting-and there was nothing he wanted more than a pint of beer and a place to rest his aching feet.

How long had it been? Days? Weeks?

The time didn’t matter when his back ached like this. His crooked spine had not felt the plush feathers of a pillow in many moons, his lips had gone too long without a tender kiss from a pretty stranger.

Every inch, every bone, every breath of Joel Miller hurt.

He was getting too old for this, too lousy, too grumpy, too much of everything to keep up with it all. The train robberies, the kidnapping, the late night bank runs. If it were up to him, he would have stopped years ago.

But he was an indebted man, and Joel knew he’d have to sleep with one eye open if he tried to run away from it all. He was reminded constantly of his duties, of the promise he swore to her years ago.

Tess.

His boss, his warden, his burden. She saved a life for him, and in turn, he owed his entire world to her. Every penny, every breath, every move- Joel did so to appease Tess.

And now this.

He had done many things in his life. Cruel, unspeakable things. He had watched skin turn purple and eyes roll blank. He had watched men hang for their crimes and horses die for their loyalty. War, famine, anger, cruelty- Joel had seen his share of the world, of the vast and indescribable horrors of man.

But this. Something about this made his stomach churn. Something deep, intrinsic, something that had been determined by fate many moons before. Something he didn’t quite understand.

The letter detailing his current orders were in the pocket of his worn coat, burning a hole straight through the leather and deep in to his chest.

Joel,

The girl. The boy. Their father. In that order. This sheriff’s been sniffing out our plans for too long, and we can’t have him ringing any alarm bells. Get it done and dusted, and report back to me in Jackson.

He could turn his strawberry roan mustang right around and run off, far into the desert. Where he would go, what exactly he would do- well, he wasn’t quite sure.

But he had ideas. Options. Dreams.

He could ride alongside the screaming eagles through the valleys of mesa rock, make camp beside a Montana stream rich with salmon. He could trade meat with the Apache down in New Mexico and drink moonshine beneath the stars.

He could choose to do anything but that.

No.

He couldn’t, could he?

What was more innocent blood on his hands? Joel had killed before, and he knew he would kill again.

Patting the ivory handled Colt that sat glued to his holster, he guided his steed towards Ruby Springs, stomach tight with the promise of what he was about to do.

The powder room was the color of eggshells with pink satin pillows thrown about, piles of gowns that needed to be washed and trays of powder that were fading had been littered throughout various places. It was pretty. Delicate. Feminine. A room fit for a city girl who had never known a days work. A city girl who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

A city girl Joel felt inextricably fond of, without ever knowing intimately.

The room he had found himself camped in smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and framed photos of a pretty thing and her loyal steed were hung about the walls.

You.

The woman he was sent to kill.

Joel sat behind the bed, careful not to lean back on any loose floor boards. If he made any noise, he know he was screwed. In his gloved hands was a small, circular photo frame, a photo of your face beaming up at him, his target, staring back. Your eyes were full of light, face full of promise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone so beautiful, someone so fragile.

He wondered what you smelled like. He wondered what your voice sounded like, if you snorted when you laughed. When he looked at your photo, he saw hope. He saw a shadow of someone he once was.

An outline of a little boy with a heart, with a soul, with a dream. A little boy who prayed and laughed and played outside beneath the heat of the sun. A boy who kissed his mamma and brushed his dog and shook the sand from his boots before walking inside the house.

Where had he gone? What had he turned in to?

Down the hall, he could hear footsteps. Heavy and booted, hushed whispers accompanying them.

“Shit.” He muttered, grabbing his pistol and peering over the meticulously made bed.

The doorknob was rattling.

Joel glanced down at the fading picture. He really did think you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A confident smile, pretty hair, dazzling eyes- you were so young, you looked so pure.

And your blood was about to be all over the palms of his hands.

His ribcage felt as though it was going to break, his whole body full of the whistling pressure of what must be done. Before he could even think or mourn, he heard a hiss of pain.

“Get off me, Wyatt!”

Wyatt. Your brother. The boy he was meant to kill.

“You gon’ tell daddy? Betcha’ not gonna do shit about it.” There was venom in his words, it dripped from each syllable.

Joel sat quiet. His curiosity outweighed his allegiance to Tess, and he wanted to see where this was headed.

“You killed him, Wyatt.” Your voice was hushed on that forbidden middle word, killed sounded so foreign when it came out of your mouth. It was as though your tongue wouldn’t dare hold on to the verb anymore than it had to.

“So? Don’t matter. When you’re the sheriff’s kid, you can do anythin’ you want. You should try it sometime.”

“No. I won’t. I’m going to tell him.”

“You wouldn’t.” A challenge. There was the ruffling of a leather strap, followed by the clicking of a gun. Not only a challenge, a death sentence.

Although Joel couldn’t see, the air grew thick with tension, like a beach before a storm. He could hear your little breath of air, he could smell your annoyance. Quietly, Joel peered over the mattress.

Something stirred deep within him. He wanted to protect you, and the thought made him angry.

Wyatt stood tall and dumb, buck toothed and freckled like a growling hound dog. His pistol was pointed right at you, and he wore a mask of pure anger. That’s all he was. An angry little boy with no real reason to be.

And Joel knew how to deal with angry little boys.

You couldn’t remember when it started.

The rage.

It ran unbridled through you, like a stream trickling downwards towards the edge of a mountain. You could feel it in your veins, like the stinger of a wasp, stuck with nowhere left to go.

You knew, ever since you were a young child, that one day the band that held it all together was going to snap. And one day, sweet, innocent, “Oh no sir, I could never!” little old you would snap. You would sink your teeth in the neck of a handsy man, or drive a bullet straight through a gossipy woman’s stomach.

One day that band would break. And one day your perfect socialite image would come crashing down.

Today, spoiler alert, was that day.

That morning, when you had awoken, your thighs were sticky with your own blood, and your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. Winter was approaching, but the wooden walls of your family home held in the heat from the furnace like no other.

You were hot. You were angry. You were a woman on the edge, standing at the precipice of a ravine full of hatred and violence. One little gust of wind, and you’d be pushed over the edge.

Enter: Wyatt.

Your big brother. Nasty, incompetent, spoiled rotten by your overly doting mother who never, over her now dead body, treated you the same.

Wyatt could get away with whatever he wanted. Why? He was daddy’s favorite. The crown jewel of Ruby Springs. Next in line to be the town’s newest, gluttonous, and corrupt Sheriff.

Wyatt was a pig. A fucking pig you would send to the slaughterhouse if you could. You could do a lot of damage with a nail gun to his forehead, you thought.

When he had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you in to your room to snarl his line of profanities, you were already knee deep in the rotted mud of a shitty day.

One little gust of wind.

“-You wouldn’t.” Wyatt’s tone was full of that disgusting self-righteous attitude he always carried around with him, full of the thought that nothing could ever harm him, full of the thought that there was no one who could put him in his place. When he pulled his pistol out on you, no fear coursed through you.

Why would it?

You had been spanked as a child, damn near shot by your own father when you were twelve and accidentally dropped a bucket of hot water on his feet. When he grabbed you by the throat and threatened to spill your life blood, you felt it for the first time.

That rage. That deep, bitter, heavy rage.

One little gust of wind.

“What are you doing, Wyatt?” You asked nonchalantly, eyes flickering down to his gun.

“Protectin’ myself.”

“From what?”

“You.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re such a fucking coward. You know that?”

Wyatt held the barrel of his gun against your chin. It was cold. It was… inviting, like a hug from a distant family member. There was a feeling to that frigid metal against your skin that felt familiar, a yearning deep within you that had always been there but never awoken.

Not until now.

“Don’t test me, girl.”

“No, Wyatt.” Your voice was low, like the growl of a cougar. Your dumb brother didn’t notice you reaching towards your vanity, to the pointed hair pic resting gently on the edge. It wasn’t a knife, but it would do.

They say poison was the weapon of women, but you figured anything could work if you gritted your teeth hard enough.

So grit your teeth you did. So hard you could hear them heaving and grinding against another, like the metal cogs of a train engine.

“You don’t test me.”

Wyatt took a step back. A floorboard creaked, from what- or who- you weren’t sure. All you knew was your red tinted vision, the thrumming pound drumming at the back of your head, was filling your mind with the promise of a fight.

“I have put up with you for so long. Your incessant bitching, your stupid fucking crocodile tears. I’ve put up with the abuse- from you and papa- and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you. You know what doctor’s do when a sickness starts spreading? They get rid of it. And I’m going to get rid of you. You’re a fucking pain in my ass. A disease.”

You had never seen Wyatt go so wide eyed before, like a doe stuck at the end of a bowie knife, a rabbit lost in the woods. There was a bead of sweat forming at his temple, crinkles scrunching at the side of his dark eyes as he squinted, trying to make sense of what was going on in the world around him.

“You-….” He stood up straighter, cleared his throat louder. Wyatt’s eyebrows knitted tightly together as he gained his arrogance back again. “You on your period or something?” The chiding tone of his voice was enough to break that band.

One little gust of wind.

“That’s it!” You screamed out as your legs carried you, your mind completely on auto-pilot as your instincts guided you. In a matter of seconds Wyatt was on the floor, and the hair pic was lodged deep into the flesh of his cheek.

He cried out, a string of curses soon following. “You crazy bitch! You fuckin’ stabbed me!” He spit, a loose molar tumbling to the floor.

“I said don’t mess with me!”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” Wyatt easily wrestled you to the ground, shuffling around for his pistol as you struggled against his grasp. Unfortunately he was much stronger, and you held no power over him while he had the high ground.

You felt the cold barrel of his Colt on the temple of your eye, and for a moment you accepted your fate. At least you went out with a bang.

And there was indeed a bang, followed by a thud, and before you knew it, you were being suffocated with the body of your lifeless brother, your neck and face painted with the crimson of his blood.

Joel had no clue what had come over him.

He hadn’t felt protective like this for a very long time.

Not since her.

As he perched behind the cushy mattress, listening to you two bicker like a pair of angry birds, a wave of emotion rushed over him. A bit of fear, an unforeseen amount of admiration, and a twinge of…. well, something he didn’t really know the word for. Interest?

Interest? Joel shook his head to himself quietly. He wouldn’t. And even worse than that- he couldn’t.

Interest. In his line of work? Not a safe option, not a safe feeling.

Joel held his gun steady, ears perked like an alert dog, waiting for an opportunity. An opportunity for what exactly, well, he wasn’t quite sure.

When he heard your bodies tackle to the ground, he knew he had to do something about it. Before he could think about his next move, his mind shut off, and his gun was pointed right at Wyatt’s head.

Something within him could hardly stand it, seeing you there, wide eyed and covered in blood. His ears were ringing, the echo of the shot bouncing off the wooden walls of the house. It had been drowned out by the old church bells right across the street, signaling the turn of midnight, the noisy commotion of the late night saloon bustling about outside the frosted windows.

“Up.” Was all he could manage to get out, extending a gloved hand your way.

Fuck Tess. Fuck it all. He wasn’t going to kill you.

Because God above, were you even more breathtaking in person. He felt his stomach twist and knot around itself, his organs rearranging themselves at the mere sight of you. His palms grew sweaty behind his gloves, his heart slammed against his ribcage, begging for a prison escape.

He didn’t know what to do with all the emotion fluttering about behind his skin.

It was in that moment that Joel Miller decided he hated you.

The weight of a dead body was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Your mouth was full with the taste of metal and gunpowder, your eyelashes cracking with drying viscera. It smelled like searing flesh, and your nostrils flared at the intrusion.

The strange man stood towering above you. Strong, capable, eyes hidden behind the brim of his dark Stetson.

“Up.”

It was a simple command. Covered in the previous life of your brother who easily wrestled you in to submission, you decided to take both his hand and his offer. It was one of the kinder interaction you had had today.

While rising to your feet, your eyes caught his own.

His eyes.

You had never seen a shade of umber so alluring before. Honeyed spheres full of coffee tinted orbs, his pupils wide and dilated with the rush of taking another man’s life. There was something dangerous about his eyes, something dark and distant, as though he had seen and partaken in unspeakable horrors, as though he had carried the entire weight of the world on his shoulders and survived to tell the tale.

He was a broken man, you knew it right off the bat. A broken man with nowhere else to go, or nothing else to do, except shoot people with bounties on their head.

Oh, you weren’t naive. It wasn’t the first time a man had been found hiding in your room, ready to take you. Why, kidnapping the Sheriff’s daughter for ransom would give them a pretty penny, wouldn’t it? But you have a murderous brother- correction, had- who didn’t mind hunting men down and killing them. Not because he cared about you, of course not, but because he loved the feeling of murder, he danced with the illustrious shadow of death.

That shadow came back to bite him in the ass, and you relished in watching him die.

Fuck Wyatt. Fuck that tool. He had tormented you your entire life and now he was gone.

You shook those thoughts away, returning to the gaze of the man before you. Something rumbled deep in your soul, something you had never felt before. A tug, a pull, towards the person who stood tall in front of you. You had never felt something so intense, so deep, in all your life. It’s like you were stuck in the waves of a tempestuous ocean, with no escape in sight and a mouthful of sea water clawing at the back of your throat.

You were drowning in those honeyed orbs, a gust of wind pulled you back down to reality.

Finally, you could speak. “I’m-”

“I know who you are.” His voice was raw and deep. You watched him wipe his bloodied gloves off on the denim of his pants, and you winced.

“Are you taking me somewhere?”

“Yes.”

For a moment you stopped. You could run out the door, it was three feet away. You could also pounce and grab Wyatt’s gun, it was right at your feet.

Or…. you could go with him. You could run away from the abuse, the suffocating town, the disgusting standards, the burden of having a social life in the public eye. You could prove a point to your father.

You could be your own person.

In that moment you decided that this man was going to be your ticket out of Ruby Springs.

“Can I change?”

“What?” Joel looked at you like you were crazy, a thick eyebrow raising with incredulousness at the sound of your statement.

“Can I change? I’m covered in blood. I want to put on a clean dress, it reeks of Wyatt.”

The unnamed cowboy sighed. “Fine. But be quick.”

You began the tedious process of stripping out of your layers, starting with the buttons on your sleeves. “And don’t think about looking.”

“I ain’t lookin’.” His voice was tired with annoyance, an echo of the man he once was. He turned around on his heel, staying true to his word with his broad back turned to you.

“What’s your name anyways, mister?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“I reckon you and I are going to be spending a bit of time together.”

He snorted, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “Miller. Joel Miller.”

Your fingers stopped in their tracks, your body short circuiting as the name replayed in your mind, again and again.

Joel Miller.

The Joel Miller.

He was as famous as Billy the Kid, as notorious as Jesse James- he was an outlaw that everyone, even those fancy pants on the East Coast, knew of. And he was standing in your room.

Joel let out a sigh. “Your silence is loud, girl.”

“I just…” You paused for a moment as you flicked through your wardrobe. “I just…. my dad used to tell us stories about you when we were kids. He…. well-”

“Hates me?”

“Damn straight. Made it his life mission to hunt you down.”

“Well he ain’t that good at it. Considering I walked right in to his town.”

You laughed, slipping in to a chemise. “He’s gotten a bit stupid in his old age. Should I go and tell him you’re here? Give him a head start?”

You could have sworn you heard Joel chuckle, but a quick clearing of the throat masked whatever sound of amusement he could have made.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know? That’s not how ransoms work, you know. This isn’t my first time being snatched up.” You held your head up high, buttoning up the front of your blouse.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Lot’s of hunters like your type.”

“My type?”

“Naive little girls with rich daddies. The kind that pay well.”

“Naive? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. You’re definitely not naive. You put up a good fight with your brother.”

You had to learn to defend yourself at an early age. You had to hold your own. There were days you would walk back home from school with swollen eyes and cracked knuckles. By the time you hit puberty, your mother started dressing you up in the attire that good little girls from rich little families inside snooty little social circles wore. Dresses the color of poppies, shoes made from silk- it was all lovely, and you grew to love it all, but deep down you knew it wasn’t where you belonged.

You didn’t respond to Joel. You threw on your overskirt, slipping on your tired leather boots. “Ready.” You chirped.

Joel turned around on his heel, looking at you through his eyelashes. There was a short moment of silence before he picked your brother up and tossed him on your bed.

You winced. “Come on. Those sheets were clean.”

He ignored you, patting through his pockets. A few stray bullets and some loose change later, and you were sneaking out the back of your house.

“Can I go grab my horse?”

“That would defeat the purpose of a kidnappin’, girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please? I don’t want to leave Fritz here.”

“Fritz?” Joel scoffed at the name, staring you down.

“Please?”

Joel gritted his teeth, hissing out a shot of hot air. “Fine. But be quick or I’m shootin’ you too.”

You smiled a toothy grin, running off to the stables. You had appeared just as quick as you left, an all black stallion standing tall and proud. His mane was braided, and his soft nose was pink. He was a handsome specimen, standing out like a sore thumb beside the strawberry coated mustang.

“What’s her name?” You asked, following him closely on the path that lead out of the town. You noticed you were headed for the mountains.

“My horse?”

You nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Uh, yeah.”

Joel sniffed a bit. “She doesn’t have one.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s just a damn horse.”

You rolled your eyes, running your fingers down Fritz’s soft neck. “She’s your companion. She trusts you more than anything, you know. She’s bonded to you, completely at your service, and you can’t even give her a name?”

“Will you just shut up? You’re yapping my ear off, woman. Kidnapee’s ain’t supposed to talk this damn much.”

“Well you ain’t never kidnapped someone like me, Joel Miller.”

As you rode in silence, the early morning thickness hanging in the air, the sound of cicadas lulled you deeper in to your thoughts. Thoughts of Wyatt, thoughts of the strange man riding in front of you.

The strange man who seemed so cold, so mean. And what kind of dick didn’t name their horse?

It was in that moment that you decided you hated Joel Miller.

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#studioghibelli #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #tlou au #joel tlou #tlou fic #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #cowboy au #western au

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pucksandpower · 1 year

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IN MY BLOOD

Y/N SENNA x CHARLES LECLERC

Series Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

PART I: Level Up

y/nsenna

Liked by bugattiracing, f1, and 1,372,865 others

y/nsenna Today my heart soars with overwhelming joy and gratitude. It is with immeasurable excitement that I announce signing my first Formula 1 contract with Bugatti Racing.

This moment is not just about me, it is a tribute to the trailblazing women who shattered barriers in motorsport and paved the way for this incredible opportunity. To those fearless heroes who dared to challenge conventions and fought against all odds, I am forever indebted. Your courage has lit a fire within me that will burn fiercely on every lap.

As I enter this next adventure, I carry with me the spirit and legacy of my father. His passion for racing, unwavering determination, and undying love for the sport continue to guide my every move. Today, I make a solemn promise to him: I will give my all, every single race, and honor the Senna name with everything I have.

Papai, I wish you were here to witness this exciting chapter in my life. Your footsteps echo in my heart, and I know you are watching over me, pushing me forward, and whispering words of encouragement in the wind. I hear your voice guiding me every time I get in the cockpit. I hope to make you proud, to show the world the legacy we carry, and to inspire others to chase their dreams relentlessly.

I am immensely honored and filled with gratitude as I express my heartfelt thanks to Bugatti Racing, my incredible team, and the Bugatti Driver Academy, which has been instrumental in shaping my development until this remarkable moment. It is through their unfaltering belief in my potential and their tireless support that I stand here today, ready to embark on this incredible journey in Formula 1. Bugatti Racing, with its rich history and unwavering commitment to excellence, has provided me with an opportunity of a lifetime, and I am determined to seize it with both hands. With Bugatti Racing and the Bugatti Driver Academy behind me, I am ready to push boundaries, defy expectations, and make an impact on and off the track. Thank you for believing in me. Together, we will write an extraordinary chapter in motorsport history.

To my incredible fans, friends, and family, thank you for standing by me throughout this incredible journey. Your unwavering support has been my driving force. This is just the beginning of a thrilling ride, and I am beyond grateful for every moment, every challenge, and every victory that lies ahead. The road may be long, but together, we will conquer it.

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lewishamilton Congratulations on your incredible achievement! It is a pleasure to welcome you to the F1 family. Your father was a true legend and my idol, and I have no doubt that you will make him proud. Looking forward to competing with you on the track!

hamilfan Lewis’ acknowledgement means a lot! We should be in for some epic battles 👀

gisele Parabéns, querida! Your journey is just beginning, and I can't wait to see you conquer the F1 tracks. Your father's spirit lives on and I'm sure he's beaming with pride from above ❤️

speedchaser She's carrying on the Senna legacy with so much passion! Can't wait to see what she can do in F1

massafelipe Bem-vinda à família da Fórmula 1! It's an honor to have you on the grid, carrying on your father's legacy. Wish you the best of luck and many podium finishes ahead! Go out there and make Brazil proud 🇧🇷

brazilianrocket Massa knows what it takes to make Brazil proud and his support speaks volumes. Brazil is with Y/N all the way!

neymarjr Parabéns, garota! A new star is born in the world of racing. Keep pushing limits, breaking barriers, and chasing greatness. Wishing you a successful and thrilling journey ahead 🏆

sportingbrazil This is huge! Two young Brazilian icons in their respective fields lifting each other up. They’re both going to be something special 👏

adrianalima Congratulations, darling! You are an inspiration to so many women around the world. May you continue to shine bright ☀️ Keep chasing dreams and breaking barriers!

girlypower Adriana is an inspiration to so many and now we have another role model to look up to! What an amazing milestone

bsennaofficial I couldn't be prouder! Your talent and dedication are unmatched. Keep pushing and make our family name even brighter! Love you ❤️

racetrackhero Incredible to see the Senna name continue to shine on the F1 stage 🙌

2012 Monaco Grand Prix — Wednesday Press Conference

Comments

⤷ What a phenomenal achievement! So proud to see a talented young woman like her breaking barriers in the world of F1. Wishing her all the success!

⤷ This is just a publicity stunt. She's only getting this opportunity because of her famous last name, not her talent.

⤷ This is a fantastic step forward for diversity and equality in motorsport. It's inspiring to see her following in her father's footsteps.

⤷ I highly doubt she has what it takes to compete at the highest level. F1 requires exceptional skill and experience.

⤷ Such a talented and determined driver! Can't wait to witness her skills on the track and watch history being made. The future of F1 is bright!

⤷ Women don't belong in F1. It's a male-dominated sport for a reason. This is just political correctness gone too far.

⤷ Congratulations to her on this amazing opportunity! A new generation of talent is emerging and she's leading the way. Rooting for her every step of the way!

⤷ She's going to be a liability on the track. F1 is a dangerous sport and I just don't think she can handle the pressure.

⤷ I'm not impressed. There are more deserving drivers out there who have worked hard and earned their way into F1. This feels like a token gesture.

⤷ It's so exciting to see the Senna legacy continue. She's going to bring a fresh perspective and a new wave of enthusiasm to the sport. I followed her closely in Formula Renault and I’m looking forward to her F1 debut!

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ystrike1 · 6 months

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Well, Shall I Murder Instead of You? - By KURANDO Yukiaki (9/10)

If you've been bullied before you wanted to be saved. It's natural. It's normal, but what happens when a normal person is subjected to the will of abnormal people? Sometimes, they don't become cruel in return. Sometimes, they get used to seeing blood.

It becomes the new normal.

Yūma is an unremarkable boy, with low grades. He attends a bottom of the barrel school. The teachers hate their jobs. Their lives. They do nothing to save him when he is horrifically bullied.

He's a talented writer who wants to host his own radio show someday. Some of his work has been published. He's good. He could be great. He doesn't dream of revenge. He has very normal dreams.

He just wants high school to be over.

He's a sweet guy.

This is Ameri. He used to be called Amelie, which is a girl's name. I'm sure that'll be relevant later. He is obsessed with Yūma utterly. Everything he says is planned.

He is the perfect best friend.

He saves Yūma.

He has the same niche interests as Yūma.

He lives alone in the mountains.

His parents are nowhere to be found.

Yūma goes blind from happiness. He doesn't care when the main bully vanishes. He was a big guy. From a rich family. Forced to attend a garbage school because of his laziness.

Ameri decides to torture them all.

Every bully.

But that's not the end.

He's still alive.

Ameri brings Yūma down to the basement.

The bully, Nishi, is almost certainly a sociopath. He put Yūma through all kinds of torture. He actually tried to stab Ameri. Ameri defended himself. Ameri doesn't want to go to jail just because some sadist chose to pick on him, and his best friend Yūma!

He's kind of in the right, and that's what makes him so wrong.

He encourages Yūma to kill on purpose. He knows Yūma won't do it. He wants Yūma to be indebted to him.

That's all.

What if the fun part was all a lie? Does Ameri really want to be a radio broadcaster too? Did he really show up acting like a hero coincidently? Right when Yūma needed to be saved?

No.

It was all planned. Ameri admits it, but the denial in Yūma is powerful.

He doesn't want to go to jail.

Yokota is a fellow student, who is also being bullied. She wants Ameri to save her too. She also wants to cry on Yūma's shoulder, and enjoy his natural kindness.

Ameri won't allow it.

He's only interested in saving his favorite.

Yūma had another hero before. A girl named Mao. She tried to protect him when they were little. They go to different schools. She's older, but she still cares for him.

Nishi escapes from the basement, and he kidnaps her.

Yūma realizes there will be no end.

Nishi will never give up. Cruelty is all he has in life. Now he has the audacity to want revenge. After all he did to Yūma. After literally stabbing Ameri. All he wants is more blood.

Yūma heroically tries to save Mao, but in the end he must rely on Ameri.

He's a normal boy, after all.

Mao notices something wrong.

She used to protect Yūma.

She thinks she remembers seeing someone watching Yūma.

Someone who looks like Ameri.

Someone with the same eyes.

She flees, because she's a normal girl.

Yokata returns to blackmail Ameri with pictures of his crimes.

He agrees to get rid of her bullies.

But.

He punishes her by making her an accomplice.

His only real interest is staying with Yūma forever.

Why?

We don't know yet.

#Well #Shall I Murder Instead of You?#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #yaoi

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rithmeres · 5 months

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no shade to the first two thg movies i think they are really quite good as films (even if they should not have been kneecapped to get a pg-13 rating) but i'm two chapters into the first book and there's already so much stuff that adds to the depth of the story that the movies couldn't possibly have included.

like, katniss doesn't like peeta at all and dreads interacting with him because she hates feeling indebted to anyone. the fact that peeta comes from an abusive family, and that they were only eleven when peeta saved her life with the bread, and he burned the bread on purpose. or madge the mayor's daughter, katniss's one friend besides gale, who first gave her the mockingjay. or the way that katniss's father haunts the narrative at every corner. she is always thinking of him, always remembering what he taught her, always feeling his absence. or katniss's complicated relationship with her mother, the way she used to blame her for letting her children starve after their father died, but she has worked to be less angry and start to forgive her mother for her grief. gale's cruelty that eventually consumes him and kills prim is there too, he's not yet the callous monster he will become and his love for katniss and desire to protect his people is true, but the seeds of pointless and destructive anger are there in him from the beginning.

or the tesserae system, how in exchange for a meager supply of grain and oil children can choose to enter their names more than once. and the tesserae compound every year, which is how gale gets his name put in 42 times by the time he's eighteen, when a rich eighteen year-old would only have his name in seven times. the poor children exchange their lives for just a little more food to keep them alive just to be reaped and killed for entertainment. and the people of the seam are of a darker complexion (possibly indigenous-coded) while the richer folks in town are the blue-eyed blonde-haired ones, and this race-class divide is upheld by capitol policies like tesserae that favor the richer and whiter people even within a place as catastrophically poor as district 12. district 12 is so poor that the peacekeepers and government officials turn a blind eye to all kinds of illegal hunting and trade because they're going hungry too. district 12 has had 2 victors in 74 years. district 12 only contains eight thousand people.

and that's just the first two chapters

#thg reread

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myguidingmoon-light · 5 months

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“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

No room. That’s something I’ve heard too much lately. Palestinians have been hearing that for 75 years. Since they were driven out of their homes—more than 700 000 of them—in 1948 to make room for the colony of Israel, there has been less and less room every day. Less land, literally, as even though lines and walls have been drawn over the years, Israel continues to illegally settle in Palestinian land. Less room to breathe, as the population of Gaza grew within the illegal blockade walling them into a tiny strip of land. Less room to live now, as Gaza has been under constant attack by Israeli bombs and guns and while the civilians of Gaza are pushed by this violence into even smaller and smaller “safe zones” (though there is nowhere safe in Gaza right now).

But also no room our conversations. No room in our imagination. No room in our understanding of our world of “human rights” and “developed nations.” You’d think “Palestinian” is a slur for how quickly it shuts up (or heats up) dialogue. These are our neighbours, and it feels like pulling teeth to get people to engage with their humanity—let alone ask their MP to ask our government to ask Israel’s government to please stop bombing civilians for the third month straight.

Today we recognize when a Jewish Palestinian family was forced by the state to leave their home, shelter in unfit terrain, give birth without proper medical care, survive a massacre, and become refugees. We Christians call the baby born in that family Emmanuel, which means God with us. God was born in Bethlehem, behind the border wall, in an occupation. What does that tell us about who God is?

Our Christian siblings in Palestine have asked us not to let this Christmas pass as usual. To that, I ask, what is Christmas as usual? If we don’t see our neighbours in the story of Jesus, what is the point? If we need to put the real, genuine injustices of the world out of our mind so that we can be comforted by Christmas, we are frankly doing it wrong. The point—the whole point—is that love and justice are possible for the unloved and the oppressed, even when it doesn’t feel that way. It is our responsibility to make that happen, and we can’t do that with our eyes closed.

You should feel uncomfortable about celebrating Christmas while a genocide is going on. We need to have room for that. We also need to have room for the hope that Christmas represents. We need to have room in our hearts for justice, lasting peace, and a free Palestine, because we are all needed to make it a reality.

And for God’s sake, CEASEFIRE NOW!

“He has brought down the mighty from their thrones/ and exalted those of humble estate;/ he has filled the hungry with good things,/ and the rich he has sent away empty.” (Luke 1:52-53)

I am indebted to Rev. Munther Isaac for his wisdom in helping so many of us walk through this time. Personally, I just finished his book “The Other Side of the Wall”—if you are a Christian, you have to read this book. I’ll buy you a copy if you want.

I also want to note that this post isn’t really supposed to be an explainer or an argument. I didn’t cite anything here, but if you’re curious about anything I referenced (e.g. why did I bring up medical care?), send me a message and I’d be happy to give you more details about what’s happening in Palestine. I’m no expert, but I know some people just genuinely don’t know the extent of the injustice and don’t know where to learn more; if you have questions I’m happy to help, but I’m not here to fight with you.

Same deal if you want to help but don’t know how. I’m happy to give you some ideas and even help you out with them (distance permitting). One important action you can always take is contacting your Member of Parliament. You don’t have to write anything fancy—just tell them honestly how you’re feeling and ask them to support an urgent ceasefire. This is literally your right as a Canadian, so you don’t have to worry about doing something wrong.

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graylinesspam · 3 months

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Older sisters

post war, O66 never happened, Au.

Ahsoka had been loved, cherished as a little sibling.

She'd dealt with a rash of over protective brothers, that despite their physical circumstances managed to hit all the awkward preteen sibling experiences. Like giving her stern lectures on boys. Cheering on her first crush. Being generally awkward about puberty. And stuttering around obvious sex jokes they wanted to make so bad, but couldn't because she was there.

She'd been the kid sister, in all the little mundane ways that made their relationships rich, that swelled her heart with affection.

But she'd been more than that too. She had to be. Through whatever cruel circumstances, men that would slap their hands over a chatty brother's mouth to keep him from making a dick joke in front of her would also bow to her order. She held their lives in her hands. It was a concept she never truly wrapped her head around. And maybe never would. But it was a responsibility that she took very seriously.

First on the battlefield doing every damn thing she could to keep them alive. Then in front of the senate and al over the holoweb and anywhere she could get people to listen to her; To listen to them. Then briefly in the war again. And now, now she was the shepherd leading them into the galaxy. Not as soldiers but as free men.

Ahsoka was responsible for the clones in a way that many of them did not comprehend. They still believed that she was their kid sister. Little 'soka, come to play house with them while they all figured out how to live. And she allowed them to think that. She enjoyed it. Needed it even. Needed them to believe that they were taking care of her and not the other way around. Needed them to feel useful. Needed them to not feel indebted towards her. Not like some of the clones did.

Dogma, Rex, Cody, Tup. Too many brothers still looked to her with gratitude in their eyes. With a knee jerk response to do whatever she commended of them.

She didn't want that. She wanted them to figure out on their own how to be men. men who ran their own live. Who made their own calls.

But that didn't release Ahsoka of her responsibility. She may have left the public advocation for clones in more trained hands, Like Senators Chuchi and Amidala. Or the Jedi council. Or the new Mandalorian government. But Ahsoka handled the nity grity. the detail work. Ahsoka taught them as individuals, how to budget, how to pay bills, how to travel without GAR resources. All things she'd had to learn on her own.

She has a unique perspective living amongst men who were simultaneously much older and much younger than her.

Or, at least, she'd thought it was a unique experience.

When Echo turned up, he brought company. And lots of it. Clone force 99 were some of the roughest men she'd seen outside of the outer rim. Certainly rougher around the edges than any clone she'd ever worked with.

They were pleasant enough. Just strange for clones. Wrecker was a trendous help to have during the building process of the little compound they were putting together. As was Hunter. He was an excellent leader. He was deffinitly no Clone Commander. Every CC that Ahsoka had worked with had the same bow to bow acknowledgement of Ahsoka. Recognizing her rank and trusting her intuition. Hunter had no such inclinations.

It was actually refreshing. He argued with her more than anyone else did. Never hostile arguments. They were all civil. He as just a particular man with many opinions about how she was running just about any aspect of the compound. He argued with her the same as he would with any other clone. He broke the seal on making crude jokes in front of her. And was generally a pushy crass soldier in her presence.

And the compound benefited from it.

CF99 didn't strike her as the kind of solders who were ready to settle down yet. They still had that itch under their skins to get out there and do somthing. Anything.

She hadn't expected them to make any real effort to stick around until she met the reason that they did.

Omega was just the most perfect ray of sunshine that Ahsoka had ever met. She was kind, resilient, and optimistic. Even in the face of her most brazen and unlikable brother, Crosshair.

In a sea of brothers Ahsoka found herself a sister. She blames the little blonde girl for how Hunter puts up with Ahsoka's presence. Ahsoka and Omega clicked in that primal almost telepathic way that young girls do. Like magnets drawn to each other and disrupting the electromagnetic fields around them, bringing something young and untamed out of Ahsoka who at barely 18 often felt old.

They were close, which is why it didn't take Ahsoka long to recognize a pattern she wasn't aware even existed in anyone else, or ever could.

Despite her physical age Omega had a lot of authority with her brothers. They were quick to do almost anything she asked of them. Like a herd of new parents scrambling to keep their child happy. Many children would have become spoiled on the attention. Getting anything they wanted out of their guardians. But not Omega. With her big heart and her many years more life experience than her brothers. She used to her influence to take care of them.

To lure them to sleep with bleary eyed stories of bad dreams. Or forcing a decent eating schedule on them by insisting on having one for herself and making everyone else join her. Or railing in their wandering spirits with games, and challenges, and new emotional frontiers instead of the endless expanse of the galaxy. Or smoothing over their arguments with a subtlety that Ahsoka admired.

She was wise far beyond her years, and as much as she could twist her face into the bright eyed gleam of innocence Ahsoka often caught her looking contemplative and nurturing as she studied her brother. She ruled their lives with a gentle care almost motherly.

Another little big sister dedicating herself to keeping her brothers alive and together.

It was the only way Ahsoka could live her life after the war. And it seemed whatever happened in the labs on Kamino had the same effect of Omega.

She opened her heart to her little sister. Made a space where they could exist, exactly as they were. Kindred spirits in the galaxy. Living for love and learning to love living again. That dimming of something old and wizened in their eyes slowly transformed from something painful to something contented.

As they played their roles of kid sisters and eldest siblings.

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the-badger-mole · 2 months

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Who do you think Dark!Aang would have in his entourage? Do you think he would have bodyguards?

His entourage would probably be new characters. Of course, his fan club from the comics would be in there, but most of them would be low level devotees. Some of them would be part of a harem, but a lot of them would probably be regular acolytes(who would of course have ambitions to be part of Aang's harem). Many of them would probably end up helping to raise any children among them, and with the upkeep of the temples. the more artistic and savvy among them would be part of Aang's propaganda campaign. I don't think that's something he would come up with himself, but someone would see a need to hep Aang's message spread.

As for his inner circle, he'd have to completely replace his original friend group, eventually, so lets give him 4 new "friends". He'd probably have a politically ambitious, but low ranking noble from one of the 4 monarchies with him. This person would be looking to make a name for themselves, and think that being part of the Avatar's retinue would do it for them. What would ultimately lead them to follow Aang down the path of corruption would be a thirst for power strong enough to override any good sense they had.

The next would be an orphan who has the potential to be a strong bender, but is untrained (this doesn't necessarily mean that they are very young. I see this being a young adult rather than a child). Aang would take them in and teach them their element. This would be Aang's main muscle. They would feel indebted to Aang for "rescuing" them. It wouldn't take a whole lot for Aang to gain their devotion. This would be the person responsible for handling Aang's more...distasteful tasks. Not that Aang would ever actually ask them to harm someone, but as he will always tell his friend, accidents happen...

The third person in the group would be someone well connected, and probably very rich. This person found Aang while they were looking for fulfillment spiritually. They clicked with Air Nomad philosophy (Aang's version) and went as far with their studies as they could without being an airbender. They probably started as an acolyte, and probably knows more about Air Nomad philosophy than even Aang himself, but still don't actually see how wrong Aang is about so many things.

The last person in the group is...let's face it, Katara's replacement. She is as loving and nurturing as Katara towards Aang, but without the stubbornness and simmering rage. She defers to Aang readily and completely, and never questions him. Unlike Katara, she has no problem with his harem. But she's still cunning, and she uses that cunning to remain as close to him as possible. If another acolyte, or any other woman Aang messes with starts to get above themselves, she is in Aang's ear turning him against them. At a certain point, there will probably be a power struggle between her and Entourage Member 1 and/or 3, but 2 will probably see her as a mother figure, and will protect her almost as devoutly as they protect Aang.

As potentially strong as 2 is, I don't think they'll ever get to be a great bender. I don't think Aang would want any benders stronger than him in his new group. Not after last time...

#alta #dark!aang au #anti aang #anti kataang #the new gaang #gaang lite #all the calories half the flavor

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merakiui · 11 months

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hi mera!! this is my first ask but i hope it doesn’t get eaten, but before that i just want to say i enjoy your writing a lot, especially your azul writings???? and azul thought 2 was so good, that one got me on a tight octopus grip. i look forward to the sequel

i want to share this idea that got stuck in my head for days: nun!reader running an orphanage but it’s low on funds until one day rich businessman!azul makes a visits and donate a large sum of money

at first it seemed like azul did it out of generosity from the bottom of his heart and reader is incredibly grateful and indebted to him…but as it turns out he has other intentions

he’s deeply inlove with nun!reader but she’s a nun!! she can’t return his feelings sadly but azul finds a way… as he keeps donating more money to the orphanage and nun!reader has to make it up to him…with her body perhaps? like imagine they’re doing it an empty church after the kids of the orphanage go to bed

also it’s optional but imagine adding rollo to this scenario as the priest!!!

AAAAAAAAA YES YES OTL this is such a yummy concept omg!!!

You can't thank him enough! Oh, you're so grateful for his generous donation and you go on and on about how exciting this is. With these funds, you can buy more workbooks for the kids, replace the chalkboard, buy better ingredients for meals, replace some of the old bed frames, and more! Azul's a little annoyed with all of your never-ending prattling. Sure, it feeds his ego to see you bow your head over and over in thanks. But you could put your mouth to better use instead of just verbally expressing your thanks. >:( he's impatient and horny, but he smiles politely and tells you it's not a big deal. He loves to help those in need! Please come to him should you ever need any help.

You insist that he must come with you to meet the kids. He's a little unsure at first, but you're just so bright and bubbly and he decides he might as well accept your offer, if only to build rapport. Come the next day, he's knocking on the door to the little classroom and poking his head inside. The kids all adore him. They think Mr. Azul is the nicest, coolest guy they've ever met! They prepared drawings and wrote little thank you letters to express their gratitude, and he feels so fluffy inside when he notices how the kids flock to you when you tell them to give him some space. He watches the way you interact with them, so soft and sweet and motherly. It's not fair that you're a nun sworn to celibacy. What he wouldn't give to make you a mother...

Azul didn't think he'd become so fond of you so quickly, but every day spent with you is a blessing. You're just so perfect. Even the kids think so when he asks them about you. "What's Miss (Name) like?" he'll ask and the kids all say such nice things about you. Some of the girls giggle and gossip amongst themselves, eagerly theorizing if Mr. Azul is interested in you. It doesn't help that everyone calls you Mama in the orphanage; it really tests Azul's patience and restraint when the kids come running up to you and tugging on your habit to get you to play or to drag you to Azul because they found him shopping in town. Some of them try to pair the two of you together, setting up not-so-subtle dates under large trees in the courtyard. You find it charming and amusing; Azul thinks it would make for a nice reality.

But then his current reality, which is just as good (for now), is uprooted when Father Rollo comes to visit. Though he looks frigid and stern, he is very gentle when speaking to the kids. He reserves smiles for you and them, or so Azul has learned from observations. When he met Azul, he hesitated to shake his hand, looking at him as if he was a pest, before welcoming him to the orphanage and thanking him for his donation. Azul already dislikes Rollo. Most of all, he's jealous that the kids talk about you and Rollo as if you're a match made in heaven. What's so good about that father anyway! He looks as if he's crawled out of the grave, what with his dark circles and gloomy disposition. Azul, on the other hand, is handsome and put together and eloquent. So why do you seem to look at him as if he's the love of your life? It should be Azul you love, not Rollo! Azul would give you the entire world if you asked. He loves you! He's infatuated!

Maybe he'll just have to prove it to you before the eyes of the god you have so much faith in. :)

#twisted chit chat #also thank you so much for liking my writing especially azul thought 2!!!!! the sequel will definitely be exciting hehe

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plasticfangtastic · 9 months

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American Royalty. Ch. 4

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: if ya like to be taglisted plz leave a comment to be notified on the next release. got the writers block and too many wips so here is an early chapter. hope y'all like it. plz check my pin post for prev. chapters.

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Four

Seeing Stars

You had him agree to you working three days as his personal chef, and he couldn’t have you Sundays no matter how much he asked.

Within the week you had gotten a letter from your bank telling you that the pending investigation on your account had been closed and now you could access it, it had even accrue significant interest after being untouched for seven years it was better than an early christmas miracle as you sobbed in your bedroom with the letter in hand, you cried in the kitchen after calling a realtor to see an apartment, by the time you seen a couple of apartments you had come home to find an enveloped taped to your door. Inside paperwork and some keys– seeing red for a moment, but as Helena tugged at your shirt, your anger tucked itself away, you held her crying into her shoulder as you finished reading the letter.

Before the month ended, you had moved into a large, renovated and well located 2 bedroom, 1 office, 2 bathrooms apartment in the ground floor of a duplex, it had to be at least eighteen to twenty thousand dollars in rent but he had simply purchase it– writing in his letter that he wouldn’t allow you to continue raising his daughter in the projects or some refurbished new york closet, he had even collected information on local schools in your new neighborhood for you consider, informing you that he would take care of tuition cost.

As you settled in a space so big you had nothing to fill it with, as you watched your daughter actually behave like a seven year old for once, you laid on the floor by the open concept kitchen, feeling the rich wood underneath your skin, staring at the black granite benches and hardwood cabinetry– the floor was even heated! You heard a landing in one of the two thin yards, you knew your daughter was exploring the bathroom, so it felt safe to do this now.

“I’ll have my interior designer come by this week to help you select furniture and stuff.” He said upon entering, distubed by how barren it was, all your belonings in a a dozen boxes total, tucked in a corner of the living room.

“You are a bastard making me indebted to you.” You grumbled.

“I can’t have her live in a broom closet infested with rats. Kids need yards and space.” He looked at the cherry wood panels lining the outdoors, the vines and trees growing in a decent sized yard, extra big by New York standards– you could get her a puppy, a kitten or…?”

“She likes fish.”

“I could have a pond installed.” he said with a smirk crainign his back as he tried to look less imposing as you refused to lift your head from the heated hardwoods– you should be okay with utility bills, I left them on credit for your convenience. Have you had a chance to look at schools?”

“What are you actually planning, John.” You sat back up, switching names had taken him off-guard wondering what angle you were going at him from– haven’t even started work with you and now you are showering me with presents? This is beyond just wanting to see your kid is not like you actually seen her.”

“You said to take things slow.” He didn’t try hiding that devious grin– Ryan… needs a story.”

“Jesus Christ you are sick.” you now had to stand up for real– you want me to play mom to your kid? I don’t even look like him.”

“Genetics are weird. Helena looks like you and Ryan looks like me, like those dogs from ‘Beauty and the Tramp’."He touched your cheek with a bare hand– Can’t wait to see you next Thursday, mom.”

“Oh god…” You chuckle, losing your mind as his hand hurts without a scratch– How are you going to tell this to Helena?”

“Is in early development but the team will take care of it. I need Ryan to attend the same school as Helena so please hurry up.”

He left not before telling you to take Helena to MOMA this saturday at 2 pm, it wasn’t a suggestion or invitation, it was an order

You did as you were told that evening, one of the best schools in the city was under a half hour walk from this cell, knowing Helena had to be enrolled soon didn’t help, and your commute to Lucci had increased but now you could pay for gas and not cry. Sending him a texts about schools to the number he had given you in his many many notes seemed anticlimactic but that was it.

Helana had grown suspicious, but she played dumb and you knew it too, so you both played stupid when you headed to MOMA that weekend.

You just casually came the same day and the same time as Homelander and Ryan were about to have the whole museum closed off as they received a private tour, but he asked you to join them not giving any real explanation for why but nobody questioned, neither kid spoke to each other much if any, Helena simply enjoying the silence, she looked at you as she asked about the pieces but it was Homelander who had the most to say about the works, leaving you left out but happy, you knew that face of his so well, to see it on your daughter’s face made your day.

He had taken the opportunity to discuss your employment not your relationship, giving you list of things Ryan should eat, would not eat, wanted to try and things he wanted to try himself, then your hours and some odd request about handling Ryan’s school lunches being instagram worthy, handing you socials to research for such task.

You started work that following week, the Vought kitchens were top of the line, your job was to meet all of his requirements, some of the chefs that recognized you looked at you with relief and curiosity, wanting to know what had happened to you but you were unwilling to share. That first breakfast was returned with clean plates, even the waiter was shocked when he saw empty plates come out of his penthouse.

It had been so long since you could play with such new equipment, this was it, this was the place you belong in, him or not involved this was your happy place now.

Two weeks had passed.

As you headed for the staff elevator you met Homelander, who had honestly just been waiting for you.

“I got the paperwork sorted… you just have to sign and fill stuff. Nice school! Great stem program not that Helena will find it hard.” he said politely, his posture extra stiff.

“Did you do a background check on her?” you looked around for witnesses.

“Hard not to. Our kid is the captain of the math club… her school team has won most of the math competitions in the last four years. Not to mention the piano recitals, and science competitions” He looked so proud– her grades are perfect. She might be the smartest little girl in the city.”

“She’s the smartest little girl in the world.”

“And her new school would let the whole world know just that.” He said matching your smug.

You watched him carefully waiting for him to spit out what he wanted to say, either about her schooling or something else.

Helena was allowed to continue attending her old school until you were ready for transfer, he had only briefly talked to you for school discussions, and with great disinterest on what made each school good or not, if anything you found yourself doing this for his son as well, thinking of what this school would do for his well being, and if it was the best choice for a homeschooled kid, and how would this new school commute affect Helena’s after school routine.

On the days you didn’t work in Vought’s towers she was still babysat or stayed at Lucci’s, she was too young to be left at home, even if you knew she was perfectly safe, but no matter what she was still little.

During the days you worked in the tower she was kept in the company daycare in the 20th floor, most of the kids there were normal but there was at least one other super-abled child her age, it made you happy to see her interact with a similar kid even if said kid abilities involved phasing thru objects all willy-nilly and make objects phase thru other objects, making you worry of what would happen if he lost focus and Helena got caught inside a wall.

“By the way our kid escaped the daycare.” He held the elevator open for you as he entered, before you could panic he shot you a charming smile– is okay she’s at the gym…”

Your eyes had welled up regardless, you jumped into the metal box pressing the bottom frantically.

“She’s perfectly safe… A-Train is there and so it's that… Noir… her and the only little Supe kid decided to do some mischief, but I kept my ears on her all day.”

Forcing yourself to take deep breaths as the elevator smoothly traveled to the lower floors.

“Is it not her that I am worried for.” you said firmly.

You followed him as he guided you through an unfamiliar floor, inside the large colosseum gym that had been fitted to test somebody’s athletic skills you found your daughter floating in her wavy bubble, but all you saw was your kid swaying in the air.

“Helena get down here immediately!!!” You ran after her reaching for the kid as her bored expression was replaced with embarrassment as she descended into your arms– you cannot run away from daycare!”

“I don’t want to be surrounded by babies.”

“Helena you are a baby!” you squeezed her against yourself, just glad she was still in one piece, you noticed the other small kid in the room– jesus…”

Carrying your kid you reached for the other one, taking his hand.

“Hey sweetie… let me take you back to daycare before your mommy or daddy gets worried.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked meekly.

“No, but Helena is so grounded.”

“Mom!”

“Don’t mom me! You have any idea how dangerous that was!”

“Oh don’t get mad at the kid, she was just acting like a kid. Don’t be such a buzzkill” he mocked you.

“I don’t want or need your opinion– now you got two seconds to explain yourself!”

You began to gently drag yourself and your kid’s victim out of the gym, A-Train absolutely shocked to see anybody talk to Homelander like that.

“Look I had A-Train and Noir come check them out, they were safe!” He chased after you.

“Oh that was your doing.” Helena said– "I really wanted to meet A-Train” she waved innocently at the Supe, who returned the gesture as a true professional– and... Mom… I wanted to see the building, that’s all… sorry I used Elmo to escape… but his powers were just too useful”

“You cannot use people like that.” you said in shock.

“People like being used.” Her words were just cold as she wriggled herself out of your arms, falling without touching the ground, she took Elmo’s hand taking the small kid towards the exit– some people are born serfs.” She mumbled to herself.

Homelander's heart beat violently– oh his daughter was a brat and had a questionable attitude, he hadn’t even interacted much with her, but he was proud. His whole body went light and his smile couldn’t be contained as he saw the small girl with true love in his eyes, this was the moment he saw her as truly his own.

Ryan was still reluctant to accept his father’s philosophy, but this little one understood that she was born better from the start on her own.

She turned around to face you again, little Elmo sucked on his thumb as her eyes glowed pale blue.

“Is it alright if I come to the training gym if I ask permission first?”

“I…”

“Of course all Supe’s should know to keep their powers top notch. You are more than welcome to use the facilities.” Homelander had cut you off, petting the little girl’s head as he approached the duo– Just ask your mother so she doesn’t have a heart attack. Then again this is one of the safest places in all of New York and little Helena over here is perfectly safe, after all I am here.” He said while staring at you.

His voice was sweet, you were defeated as Helena tried to contain that cheshire grin of hers while staring at you– he was your boss , and the Homelander so could you really go against him so publicly?

“You had a terrorist attack in this building… but I guess…” She ignored him again then looked straight at you– I learned something new today.”

A-Train and Noir exchanged concerned looks taking a few step backs, Homelander seemed intrigued to watch your reaction, you gave way, unable to speak, just frustrated as your ex looked just as smug as his kid.

Little Elmo scoot behind her– in the round gymnasium a cement boulder hanged in chains, her eyes glowed the brightest you’ve ever seen, lifting her hand with one quick swipe the boulder broke in half, the dust showing the invisible blade bending light, it gain a blue color as it was touched before fading, she looked so proud of herself, you stared at Homelander and now you understood why nobody had informed you that your daughter was missing. It didn’t sit well with you.

“you’re still grounded for a whole week.”

“But Mom!!”

You had walked into a trap, one you did so willingly, jailed in a nice house, any hope of Homelander being driven away or losing interest in her was gone as he looked at her with pure adoration in his eyes.

You got used to it… this prison was lovely, it was nice to come back to a spacious cell. Homelander had indeed brought his decorator to your house but you didn’t want designer furniture and high end stuff, you kept it simple and cheap, most of your stuff second hand and from Ikea, only relenting to agree with the poor designer over the kitchen, his budget was absurd for the task, only taking advantage to purchase all the appliances of your dreams, you indeed needed a air fryer that matched your splashback.

Helena was happy to have a room that felt like a bedroom, large bookcases that could be filled with her own books, a small courtyard facing her doors, where she now could sit down and read with the breeze in her hair. She seemed happy, euphoric when she began her new school, making you forget what was happening in the background at times.

Homelander would come from time to time to speak to you about mundane stuff and work, his patience saintly as he allowed you to get used to his company once more, just so you could be okay with him entering her life, but then again he was your jailer.

He himself had begun forcing himself into her life when you weren’t around, it was all a matter of timing and perception.

Homelander watched the daycare center, from afar, a much needed service, it occupied a whole floor, the tower employed thousands of people in its 99th floor so there had to be help for those mothers and fathers who needed to work but had children with no babysitters, it was one of the many appealing things about being employed by Vought, and the center offered a variety of activities for all age groups.

Helena saw it as a jungle, all these children just a bunch of savages, keeping Elmo around not because she liked his company but because he was the only other Supe child in her age group, he was a sweet kid, afraid of bugs and that liked to talk about cartoons, frankly it was a challenge to figure out what to do with him. Homelander watched as she taught the kid to play chess, taking hours to explain the basics as the seven year old had very little clue what was happening, but in its own way it was nice to talk to another kid like himself.

Homelander even bothered to do a background check on the child– both of his dad’s both worked at Vought one in hero management and the other in marketing, both very busy bees it seems… he had done the same with all of Ryan’s new classmates, he knew their entire families before his kid even stepped foot and said hello to any of them, all done before he started school the same week as Helena– there was the big issue of her being on the 10th grade while her older brother just began the 6th grade, so he couldn’t enjoy seeing the both of them interacting, it was hard to witness for he wanted both kids to become closer so desperately.

Hence why he was standing on the foyer of the daycare center, a young lady that looked too cheerful for her own good, welcomed Homelander.

“Hi! How can I help you today, Homelander? Are you looking to enroll little Ryan?” She swayed side to side trying to see if the kid was behind him by any chance.

“Actually… am here to speak to one of the kids… hmm… Helena L/N.” He said with a firm tone– I believe her mother left a message.”

Homelander texted you an hour before cominf down, not even asking you that he was going to take her for training, you were stuck in the kitchen helping with some work function taking place tonite, a thousand canapes had to be made and you were stuck with the pistachio and lemon layer cakes.

You had no time to argue, taking your precious break time to make phone calls and try not to use your knife on the nearest asshole who pissed you off afterwards.

She hopped on the desk seeking for any notes, and he was indeed correct.

Now he had her all for himself, you prayed he wasn’t going to drop the news on her, but you couldn’t leave and abandoned your team, she was safe, you had to believe she was safe, she was smart, she was so smart and she could escape him, you just had to trust her.

“Can I bring Elmo?” Helena looked up at Homelander, a slight ache building on her neck as she looked up at the man– he might get lonely.”

“He’s not a dog.” He didn’t even try putting on a soft babied voice with her– and I wanted to talk to you.”

“But he’s always ‘The Dog’ when we play house.” She faked the most innocent voice she could muster, turning around to look at the glass doors dividing the friends– … He will probably sneak out to the gym if he gets lonely, they got his favorite snacks today… he told me liked five times and I think they’re playing Bluey on the tv.”

“Oh! and you play mommy?” He grimaces so hard his eyebrows touch.

“No, the robber.”

He led the way and she was more than happy to explore the building as they headed downstairs.

“What do you think of them?”

“Elaborate.”

“Those without powers.” she wished she could see his expression– and be honest. None of this ‘Wednesday Addams’ crap.”

He looked around at the sea of smart casual fits and stress on the floors above, the world moving so fast paced, nothing but monkeys hurling shiny rocks while playing dress-up.

“They can be useful, if they are not… then they don’t matter to me.”

He smiled, his heart fluttering and his stomach filled with butterflies as he heard her speak– why did Ryan struggle so much to understand this? He thought.

“When you are born with such gifts–

“I might be a kid but I am very familiar with your Compound V, I already had this talk with my mother. Fascinating stuff… I am still trying to understand the whole dosage thing… How does your company decide which kid to give more versus others? Did they just look at who could provide the best backstory before deciding between 10 mils versus the whole vial.”

She stared at the glass walls where the kids were housed, the tone of her voice still flat.

“Why you say that?”

“I’m a poor kid from the projects, with a single mom, formerly homeless and now with enough powers to make Athena envious. Not to mention how 92% of supes are white but the percentage below middle class to poor is almost the same as with the 6% blacks, while the percentage of upper class white supes is closer to the same percentage of 2% asians and latino supes… if anything a good chunk of latino and asian supes are upper class… something-something model minority yadah-yadah.” she pressed the elevator door– I’d make a good story. Shame that I can’t be a Supe.”

Homelander stared at her, placing his hand on the back of her head.

“You can be anything you want, Helena. You have been blessed beyond belief with powers… if you want to be Supe then you are ready for major leagues.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Only the 1% of superheroes ever make it to the major leagues, most supes never achieve anything beside D-list status and everybody is fighting for the crumbs left behind by your posse of clowns– is not a fiscally responsible decision. A career that can only exist on extreme gambling is not one that can make money. Not to mention am not cute or tall." She took the first step into the elevator– I never want my mother to worry about money. I want to buy her a mansion on top of a cliff staring at the ocean, have a dozen maids care for the house and she can just spend the rest of her life in luxury”

She turns to see him crossing her arms with a serious look on her tiny face.

“My goal is to take your job.”

“The Seven?” He grinned.

“Vought.”

“I can wait to see you try.” he grinned.

“It won’t be that hard… At least when I am in charge security will be tighter.”

Bottles of V dropped from above Homelander’s head, he caught most of them but a few were lost, those were hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of drops staining his pants and shoes, Helena caught one bottle, sliding it between nimble fingers back and forth.

“Don’t look so surprised, it seems this is a common occurence… Here's an unwanted tip: use biometrics and only allow lab techs to enter the 67th floor, not just rely on good will, clown.” sections of her body and clothes flicked back and forth between visible and invisible, taunting him about how easy it had been to steal them using her superpowers.

As his eyes took an extra tinge of red, he saw a brief flash of pale blue encasing her, he followed her to the entrance of the Gym, where she expected to be left alone with Homelander not to find another kid.

“The prodigal son.” she mumbles.

Ryan sat on top of some raised stepping stones in the recently established obstacle course, Helena imagined she needed to know parkour in lieu of flying abilities, which seemed redundant for the kid who could fly.

“Thought you two could practice together.” He shouted while placing the V on the nearest bench.

“Guess there are ways to successfully murder a child and get away with it.” She raised an eyebrow– and here I thought you wouldn’t be irked by the words of a little girl… like I said you’re a maladjusted person.”

“I don’t hurt children. I have no idea…” he said calmly while a little bit angry, as he returned to her side.

“I dunno– it would look really bad if the press found out that you’re a deadbeat.”

His expression dropped as the little girl's eyes glowed.

“Smartest little girl in the world… or...?” She said dryly, as she headed towards Ryan to save him the walk– my bubble refracts light, easy to spot if you notice images are wavering without the heat.”

The little boy ran cheerfully after his father, who for the first time ignored him, his eyes transfixed on the little girl, who had been playing stupid all along.

taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity , @demodemo909 and @immyowndefender

here's the house:

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x f!reader #the boys oc #homelander fanfiction #personal #my fic tag #my writers block is criminal but thx god i had this chapter and 2 more ready #new york city rentals are fucking insane y'all paying too much-- had to look at them for reference for this fic so am more than glad to pos #a link to the 18K a month house that homelander bought for you dear reader #btw am living in australia so i might not know how yall pay utilities over there #took inspo from the diabolical first ep where they ahd an adoption centre as one of the floors of the tower to make the daycare #american royalty

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chaifootsteps · 9 months

Note

Mr Chai, Mr Chai!! The audience wants to know: how would you personally rewrite helluva boss if it was entirely up to you? Any changes to casting, animation and story you want are on the table, and you have unlimited peacock taxidermy money to spend!

- 🍳

Here's an extremely rough outline of Helluva Boss: Chai's the Captain Now.

Very similar in tone to the pilot. Lots of loud, crass, chaotic nonsense but with heart. Very edgy for the sake of it, very Brandon Rogers.

A lot of focus on I.M.P.'s day-to-day work life, which frequently involves the sinners but also takes us all around Hell.

Hellhounds have ravenous appetites and are responsible for hunting and eating sinners that attempt to leave Pride. Loona, like all hellhounds, is constantly noshing.

Stolas is in line with his pilot self, less cold and manipulative and more foppish and delusional, but still the embodiment of everything awful about Hell's ruling class and an obstacle for Blitzo to navigate. He's a fallen angel in a miserable marriage of convenience, and between his long lifespan and unhappy relationship, Blitzo is a burst of color and excitement.

There's no full moon deal but Blitzo's still uncomfortably indebted to Stolas, has to appease him in other ways, and Stolas continuously sexually harasses him. It's initially played for comedy, but gets less funny as time goes on.

Stella's every bit as entitled and awful as her husband, but not impossible to reach, and she sincerely adores Octavia.

The overarching theme is just how much it sucks to be an imp or a hellhound, but even middle class demons like the succubi don't have it all that great.

Octavia's birth and conception are a very, very big deal because the children of Goetias are some of the only demons in Hell that stand to survive the apocalypse.

Millie actually does things. Her trans brother is allowed to stay trans, and because life on the Wrath ring is especially hard, we see a fair bit of her family.

Striker marks the start of the show morphing into an "eat the rich" story.

As I.M.P. grow closer and Blitzo slowly but surely faces his demons and becomes a better person for the sake of his employees who depend on him, he pushes away from Stolas. This in turn has the effect of making Stolas do some thinking about the kind of person he wants to be, but they don't end up together in the end.

Last but not least, Millie's still Erica and Stolas is still Brock. Because this is my party.

#Anonymous #Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss critical #actual blog post

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klbwriting · 3 months

Text

Our Strange Duet

Chapter 5: One Step

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: none, unless shitty dad Bruce is a warning

Summary: YN confronts Bruce while Jason runs away

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

One step at a time - Anastasia

YN avoided looking at the cast list Sunday, instead choosing to ignore the email she received. Speaking with Bruce Wayne was more important at the moment. She had so many questions. Why her mother? Why give them money and send them away? Why not just talk to Jason? He had to know that he was alive now, between the video and now Red Hood stalking the streets more openly, with Nightwing by his side most nights, he had to know that his older sons were working together, so why not approach them? She was getting answers today, right from the source. Well, she hoped so at least as she arrived at the gate, pressing the buzzer. A voice cracked over the speaker asking for her name and if she had an appointment. She gave her name only and waited.

Just when she thought the gate wasn’t going to budge it creaked open and she climbed the hill, entering the grounds of Wayne Manor. She looked around, trying to imagine what it must have been like for Jason, a ten-year-old, to be brought here to live. He could play anywhere he wanted, run his energy off for hours on a beautiful lawn, there was probably a pool and tennis courts, maybe a full-fledged playground somewhere. The woods surrounding the property contained hours of exploring potential and she almost laughed, thinking about Dick and Jason in the trees, doing flips and trying to show off for each other. How strange it must have been for Jason to wake up and realize that this was all gone, that Bruce had pretty much abandoned him to his fate. She wondered if Jason ever drove by the manor and remembered his childhood. Were the memories nice? Or sour in his stomach now?

The front door was already open when YN got there, the butler, Alfred, standing there to greet her. He took her bag, setting it on a side table before leading her into a sitting room off the main hall. Once again, she was struck by the home, imaging Jason there, getting into trouble. She almost smiled a little, then became sad. The look in his eyes the few times he had talked about this place, he was ruined by this place, by what he had lost. She was heartbroken until Bruce Wayne walked in, then she just felt anger.

“I see you have figured out who the donor was,” Bruce began, moving to sit in a chair, motioning for her to sit in another one. She sat down, eyes narrowed at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so angry.”

“I’m not angry about the money,” she said. “But I will no longer accept it. And the apartment, I have already packed and told them I will be breaking the lease. You can cover the cost of that, I don’t want it.” He looked surprised, then annoyed.

“You need a place to live while you study. That grant will only cover tuition,” he said. She shrugged.

“I’ll move in with Jason and Dick then,” she said. The name Jason seemed to slap Bruce in the face. He went from looking displeased to haunted before masking again. “I already lied to him about where the apartment came from, I’ll come clean now that I know that you were supplying it. I don’t want your money, Bruce Wayne. I have enough deadbeat dads in my life, I don’t want to be indebted to one.”

“I am not…” Bruce started but she held up a hand.

“Why haven’t you tried to talk to him?” she asked, one hand clenching on the arm of the chair, the other a fist in her lap. She wanted to scream at Bruce, tell him how much damage he did, how much Jason hurt because of him, but she wouldn’t, let him explain himself.

“If he wanted to see me, he would come to me,” Bruce answered as if that were the end of it. YN scoffed. How idiotic were rich men that they just expected everyone to bend to them.

“You’re the parent Bruce, not Jason. You should seek him out, you should have sought him out when he died, like Dick did, brought him back, like Dick did,” she said. “The more you avoid him, the more you ignore him, the less likely it is he will come to you.”

“He was supposed to be here today, not you,” Bruce said cooly. YN glared at him. “He would find out about me being the donor and then come confront me. Not you.” She stared; glad she had gotten out of that apartment now. He must have bugged it, hoping to spy. How boring his summer must have been as she had just sat in her room, spending the days either trying to distract herself or just letting herself sob. YN stood and shook her head.

“I’ll let him know when I see him next,” she said, heading towards the door, grabbing her bag and storming out. She waited until she was a few streets away before calling Jason. He didn’t answer, so she messaged him instead, telling him she would visit Dick’s later. She needed to clear her head and work on finding a new place to live before it got dark out.

Jason had waited for Dick to get home from the gym and lunch with Barbara before demanding they do something together. Something that they could talk while doing, unplugged, just them. Dick grabbed his stuff, loaded the car and they headed into the woods to the North of the city. It was a good day for a hike, late August, so hot but having cooled off some in the last few days. It would probably be scorching again tomorrow, but today they could spend the early afternoon climbing the small peaks and valleys of the forest. Jason could talk and Dick could listen, and vice versa.

“So, what is with the hike Jay?” Dick asked after a half an hour of walking in silence, leaving Jason to his thoughts. They weren’t great thoughts. He kept wondering why Bruce would just abandon him, not once, but twice it felt like. Did Dick know? Did Bruce call him often to get updates on him? Or did they talk, and pretend Jason wasn’t there still?

“Did you know Bruce was the donor for YN’s mom’s treatment?” he asked. He had to know how much Dick was hiding from him. He was behind his brother and nearly ran into him as Dick froze on the trail.

“He…WHAT?” Dick asked, turning around to stare at him. The surprise in his eyes wasn’t fake, that much was easy to see. Jason let out a relieved breath. It would have been really annoying to have to leave Dick behind too, but he could only handle so many lies and half-truths at this point. “I honestly thought it was Maroni trying to convince her to join him.”

“She thought that too at first, but Maroni apparently was livid she left the country, no, I went to see her last night and she showed me the bank statements, the company funneling the money for her. Plostast Holdings.” Dick sighed and looked down.

“Ah yes, Bruce and his anagrams,” he mumbled. “Apparently letting me pick the company name was too boring so he’s forcing names on you lesser Robins.” Jason cocked an eyebrow and let out a bark of unamused laughter.

“Lesser Robins? Watch it I’ll cut you right now,” Jason said, pulling out a knife and dancing it between his fingers. Dick rolled his eyes but pulled out a knife just in case his brother felt stabby. “So, he didn’t tell you about his scheme?”

“No, he didn’t,” Dick admitted. Jason couldn’t tell what bothered him more, not knowing or the scheme itself. “He must have been trying to draw you out, probably thought if you found out about it that you’d confront him.”

“Well, he’s wrong, I’m not going to him,” Jason said, moving now to keep walking. He started running, wanting to feel the burn in his lungs. He didn’t stop until they reached the overlook, and he could see the city below them. He leaned on the railing, looking over everything and hating it. But loving it. The conflict warred in him. Dick caught up to him and leaned on the railing, facing away from the city.

“What are you going to do if you’re not going to him?” Dick asked. Jason shook his head. “He won’t come to you, remember, that’s not how Bruce operates.”

“Well then I guess we’re at an impasse,” he answered. “YN knows it was Bruce too. She might confront him, but that’s her own thing.” This time Dick let out a humorless laugh.

“You think that she is going to confront him for herself? She is going for you, so that you don’t have to,” Dick said. “Make sure when you see her next you do something special, if she’s going after Bruce, she’s going to deserve at least some flowers.”

“We should head back to the city, I’m sure the cast list is out by now,” Jason said, ignoring Dick’s implications. Dick let the matter slide and they headed down the trail, driving back to the city.

Once back home Jason checked his phone. He had a missed call from YN and a message saying she would see him later, neither thing was concerning to him. He checked him email and shook his head. Phantom – Jason Todd. She was right, he was a madman again, at least this time he got a mask. Then he noticed her name. Music Supervisor – YN YLN. Wow, that was a big job for a freshman. He was about to tell Dick the news when someone knocked on the door. He knew it was YN, only the two brothers and their girlfriends knew the door entry code, but Barbara had a key to the place. Jason opened the door to find YN carrying a couple bags.

“Congrats on Phantom, I moved out, can I stay here tonight until I find a new place?”

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #strangeduet

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sweeetrandall · 9 months

Text

Im gonna talk about personalities (and autism) in professor layton for a second, especially in miracle mask.

it is very tragic that layton isn’t even really his own person. Like he was struck with death during a time he was still struggling to form his own identity. He really was sort of just following Randall around and letting him take him by the hand and thrust him into anything. This is a relationship I found myself in again and again growing up, getting “adopted” by an extroverted kid and then getting all my social connections through them.

This kind of relationship makes it easy to lose your own personhood as it takes away nearly all your agency in terms of your social life. You begin surrounding yourself with people and personalities that match whoever adopted you rather than your own tastes, and you begin conforming in order to survive more or less.

This sounds pretty tragic, and in some ways it is, but it’s a lot better (and easier) than being alone, which often happens if you don’t get “taken in”.

I think Randall was an overall good influence on Hershel and positive presence in his life. It just happens that Hershel himself seems to have been especially prone to this sort of thing, to the point such a lack of personal identity (or, at least, instability in finding it) caused him to completely adopt Randall’s passions and interests out of sheer guilt, almost as if he owed him a debt. After all, it’s easy to feel indebted to the person who goes out of their way to talk to the “autistic kid” …. Part of this could easily be because Hershel had already begun integrating Randall’s interests into himself (likely subconsciously as part of this survival mechanism) and being suddenly ripped away from this it was pushed to an extreme as a way of filling that void.

Hersh also shows signs of generally not thinking much of himself. Being a more secluded kid makes it easy to develop this kind of self image…and also why having a friend who constantly encourages you like Randall is so intoxicating.

We see Hershel time and time again say how he isn’t that interested in archaeology or puzzles, nor is he confident in his ability to do either - to the point he actively expects himself to get incorrect answers, as his puzzle solve animation shows a brace for a huge “INCORRECT” sign only to be surprised he found a solution.

Meanwhile, Randall is the face of confidence.

I don’t need to point out how next time we see Hershel, he has faith in his own puzzle solving abilities - “My intuition should serve me well”, even taking from Randall’s personal lexacon, “Critical thinking is the key to success.”

I won’t ignore the grief and guilt, as the role it plays is obvious. I only want to point out how instead of being the source itself of Hershel’s radical adoption of Randall’s personality, I read it more as an extreme driver of an already existing tendency to mimic those around him as a sort of survival mechanism. In times of crisis these mechanisms are put into overdrive.

(As others have pointed out, this also happens with Claire and the gentleman persona she encouraged him into, but that’s another subject.)

I also want to examine this in Randall himself, since we see a pretty interesting inversion of Hershel’s situation on his part.

The risk-taking, erratic behavior we see in Randall is something I’m pretty sure stems from his hatred for his father and the general life he is made to live. A stuffy mansion doesn’t suit him, if his kind of goofy outfit has anything to say about it. He stands in stark contrast to the other rich Stansbury kid, Dalston, who is altogether enthusiastic about business and wealth.

Where I think this gets especially interesting is when Randall falls into Akbadain. Having experienced a “reset”, he quickly adapts to his new life. He isn’t an entirely different person - he still has proficiency in puzzles as Firth/Tannenbaum tells us.

And if his reaction to Descole’s letter was anything to go by, he’s still as impulsive and emotionally driven as ever.

What we get to see from his time in Craggy Dale is a Randall relieved of his old life - no smothering father, no family fortune, no mansion. In fact, we get a life that is essentially a polar opposite, complete with a loving adoptive father and slow-paced life that “tames the wildest of hearts”. Being allowed to breathe and live slowly creates a Randall who, while still brainy and enthusiastic, is radically different from the Randall Hershel, Henry, and Angela knew.

This is why the ending of Miracle Mask sort of bothers me, as I fully believe Randall would not want to pick up where he left of when he was 17. He literally got himself “killed” living that life, likely pushed and simultaneously blinded by the pressure from his family, which mixed horribly with his own impulsivity and need for freedom. I would imagine growing up in a mansion causes you to develop a less than realistic view of life and your own abilities.

This is where Hersh comes back in, as it’s pretty serendipitous in my eyes that the person he “absorbed” the personality of happened to move on from that personality in a pretty dramatic way. This way there isn’t any sort of doppelganger tension. Ultimately, Randall did want Hershel to develop an interest in archaeology and puzzles, and it seems he’s satisfied with that.

(also I think it’s a little bit creepy that they had Randall adopt the same haircut and glasses he had when he was 17 with a “now you’re back to normal” attitude, going off what I just discussed, but I digress)

Essentially, it’s crystal clear to me how Hershel developed his personality considering his upbringing eerily reflecting the way I survived as an autistic kid, and the fact much of Randall’s personality/life direction was derived from the circumstances of the life he later shed makes it kind of poetic. At the end of it all I think they have a lot to learn from each other just as they did when they were teens, especially from the experience they gained since then.

#miracle mask #hershel layton

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