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whumpiary · 8 months

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technically a follow on from this piece. could probably stand alone. this piece has been 80% done in my google docs for three years so if you see any big holes in it uhhh. no you didn't.

if you've ever wanted some vague exposition on cass' powers or choices, then this is for you

content warning: mentions of death, victim blaming, aftermath of violence/assault, referenced dubcon/noncon, brief mind control

The common room at Bergen Estate gets quiet at night. Most of the charges prefer their own rooms as it gets dark. Hiding from the bogeyman.

But Harley liked the large, dark emptiness of the common room.

The curved chairs, the pillars, the rows of books and video games lined up along the shelves. The big oak tables. Bean bags in the corner. Rugs here and there. The whole place had the energy of some sort of bizarre combination between a kid’s playroom and a university library. But Harley wanted a space to think, and this was the easiest one.

Their intuition had been right and wrong in equal amounts tonight. They’d known they would be called to Christopher’s lounge tonight. And they were. And they knew that they would be fine after. And they are. But… if they were so fine why do they feel so God fucking awful?

“Harley can go, right? It’s not like we need them.”

Every time they try to push the memory from their head, it bobs to the surface again like an apple in water.

“I have to say, Harley… I really am so disappointed in you.”

They stare out the large bay window, at the leafless trees silhouetted in the mix of light from the garden and from the moon. The whole thing looks ghostly. Gothic. The dark through the glass makes the whole window reflective; a giant mirror just waiting to show them their face. But it’s dark in here too. It’s a dark room reflected on a dark night. That’s why it’s so obvious when there’s a shuffling flash of light behind them, making their heart skip.

The door opens, someone steps through, and then it closes. Dark again. Harley stiffens, freezes, trying to catch another glimpse of who it is in the reflection of the window but it's back to shadows on shadows on shadows.

They listen as the person shuffles to one of the cushioned seats. Shuffles. Like it hurts to move. They sit so carefully that Harley can barely hear them. Then there's quiet. Stillness. An exhale.

Harley doesn’t move. They know stillness. They know silence. Have known it for longer than they’ve been here.

But then there’s another exhale.

And another.

Any hitch of breath that might be happening in between is more or less silent. Which means, usually… crying.

Harley feels themself cringe. The Bergen Boys don't cry. Those are the rules. Not Christopher's rules but the deeper, unspoken ones between the lot of them. You don’t complain, you don’t ask for help, you don’t cry. Or if you did, it got beaten out of you quicksmart. Everything else was a free for all as far as Harley has ever been able to tell.

So the shadow person has come to the common room in the middle of the night. Assuming, like Harley had, that it would be empty. That it would be safe.

Guilt washes over them all at once, guttural and nauseating and they realise all of a sudden that intentionally or not just by sitting here, listening, they're imposing. Intruding. Doing the wrong thing. And then the fear beneath that, on top of that, around that, that if they wait too long and the shadow person notices them, they may well end up on the wrong side of thrown fists. Again.

Harley shifts on the couch where they sit, exaggerating the whisper scrape of fabric on fabric, and leans back on the left side where they know the leg creaks.

The shadow person's breathing stops immediately and Harley hears them stand.

"Who's there?"

Harley freezes again, regretting making their presence known. Cassius.

"I can see you. On the couch. Get over here." His voice is sharp and violent. Deeper than usual. There's a childish part of Harley, not as far beneath the surface as they’d like, that wishes desperately they’d just stay silent and hidden. Safe.

But, like they were told, they uncurl their legs. Stand. Turn. Start to walk.

Harley can see the moment that the light from the window must catch their face. Cassius' face softens, eyes fluttering closed and body sagging with what was maybe relief.

“Harls,” he says, running a hand over his face as he sits back down. Harley doesn’t miss the wince. “Jesus Christ, man, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” The apology flies out of them like a verbal flinch. “I’ll leave.”

“No, ple-” Cassius stops himself, eyes shuttering closed. Harley watches him take a deep breath, brow furrowing briefly. You don’t cry. You don’t complain. You don’t ask for help. “You can stay. If you want. I don't mind.”

Harley hesitates for a moment, glancing around half-uselessly, before choosing a seat across from the other charge and folding into it.

“What are you doing up so late?” Cassius asks, as though they’ve bumped into each other at a truck stop. At a bar. Fancy seeing you here.

Harley shrugs. “I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep. I kept…” thinking about what you were doing. They bite down on their tongue to keep themselves from saying more. It’s stupid.

They trail off as Cassius looks up at them and the dull light from the window catches the shape of his brow. At the blood smeared along his temple. The bruising already flaring up along his cheek. “Did… did Beauche do that to you?”

Cassius huffs out a half laugh, running his tongue between his teeth and the obviously bruised tissue of his cheek. He drags his hand up, knuckle brushing softly against his brow. “Yep. What a gentleman, huh?”

“But Christopher said he wouldn’t be violent.”

Cassius scoffs, “Yeah and Christopher’s such a shining beacon of truth, huh?”

Cassius sits back in his chair, eyes hard, and Harley holds their breath. With the shadows of the trees outside dancing across his face, the shading of the bruises and the swelling there, Cassius looks half monster.

Then his expression softens, his body relaxes. “Nah, it was my fault." He lets out a sigh, hand running back through his hair. "The guy wanted me to cry.”

“And did you?” Cassius’ glare is immediate. Has Harley slamming their jaw shut so quickly their teeth click together. “Sorry.”

Cassius shrugs a shoulder in acceptance of the apology and leans back in the chair. He closes his eyes and all at once it’s like some mask comes down. He looks exhausted and hurt and… young, actually. Harley always forgets that. He’s younger than them. About a three year gap between them.

“Why are you up?” Harley says, after the silence gets unbearably fragile. “Here, I mean. I thought you’d be…” They struggle for a tactful way to put it. “In the other wing.”

“Nah, he didn’t want me to stay, thank fuck. And Christopher doesn’t like me coming in af-... Um. He doesn’t like me coming in too late,” Cassius says, picking non-existent dirt out from under his finger nails. He clears his throat a little as his face flinches in and out of a frown. “Plus, the sooner I see him, the sooner I have to… you know…”

He gestures loosely at his face and Harley frowns. The sooner he’d have to do what? Get rid of the bruises? Get rid of the pain that keeps making him flinch and close his eyes? None of them talked about it but they’d all seen it. Bruises fading on Cassius just to bloom on his brother in minutes. Always after a visit to Christopher. Always without a word spoken.

Harley can’t help their own contempt, “Isn’t that a good thing for you?”

Cassius looks at them with an expression Harley can’t place, dark eyes flicking between both of Harley’s, as though searching for something. He looks angry. Murderous. Violent. Then he snorts and it’s gone. “Yeah. Sure.”

He drops his head, hands fidgeting between his knees. With the angle and the shadows, Harley can only just make out the shape of his nose, his eyes half hidden behind his hair. It sticks out at awkward angles around his head like a terrible crown. Frizzy waves in some parts, kinked curls in others.

It'll suit him more when he leaves and he grows it longer.

The thought comes unprompted, unbidden and with the utmost certainty. Like the predictions always do. Just a slice of truth falling into the head with the right prompt. An understanding that that's just… how things will be.

It's not the first time Harley's thought something like it. That Cassius will do much better once he leaves. The notion of it is almost horrifying. Cassius has been here longer than they have. It’s hard to imagine Bergen Estate without its golden boy.

Harley chews on their cheek and “If I ask you something, will you answer truthfully?”

Cassius shrugs. Smirks. “Probably not.”

Harley rolls their eyes and looks away, annoyance settling in their gut. They don’t even know why they bother with Cassius. He’s always the exact same. They're about to stand up to leave when Cassius clears his throat and-

“I’ll trade you for it,” he says softly, dark eyes shining with something unnameable in the dim light. “You ask me something, I ask you something. No lies.”

“Promise?”

Cassius just shrugs. Which is probably as good a promise as Harley’s going to get, really. They sigh and trace the patterning of the rug with their eyes before pursing their lips together and looking back up at Cassius with a focussed sincerity.

They swallow. Inhale. Hands grip the arms of the chair. "You hate it here.”

Cass’ eyes skitter to the side and back. "That's… not a question."

"Why don't you leave?"

“Same as you, dumbass. Legally binding contract.”

“No, I mean-” Harley bites down on their cheek and tries to figure out the right words to say what they mean. “You can make him do whatever you want, right? You can make anyone do what you want. So why don’t you just… make him get rid of you."

Cassius exhales in a way that could almost be a laugh. But probably isn’t. “It’s… complicated.”

“Because of Henri?”

He shrugs, looking bored as he meets their gaze. “Sure.”

“No lies.”

Cassius sighs, leaning back slouched in the chair. He shrugs. “Just because I can make someone want to do something, it doesn’t mean they’ll do it.”

“Like… he’d resist you?”

“No.” Cassius pulls a face. “I mean yes, maybe. But no… It’s like…” He makes a sound hallway between a sigh and a groan. He rolls his neck, eyes roaming around the room like he’s trying to figure something out. He leans his chin on his hand, fingers skirting over his lips before looking back to Harley. “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ, sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ.”

Harley stands instantly. They turn on their foot and move to the door and for the first time in their life everything is certain. Everything is clear. Everything makes so much sense and all they have to do is… Is to…

“Um…”

Cass half smiles. There's something vicious and cruel behind his eyes. “Dᴏ ɪᴛ, Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ. Sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ.”

They step forward, compulsively, and for some bizarre reason they start raising their arms in front of them, as though their body can’t figure out a way to solve the issue even though they want to and as soon as that thought hits them the frantic desire starts to dissipate, filling instead with deep dread and panic.

They turn their head towards him, eyes wide. Frozen. "I…"

Cassius’ gaze is dark and heavy. Hungry and calculating. His jaw sets. “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ, ɢᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ.”

The feeling that floods them is white hot and immediate. Desire and rage running through them like lava. They’re not sure they’ve ever moved so fast, wheeling on a foot, making it to the door, but no sooner are they reaching for the handle then-

“Nah, ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ. Cᴏᴍᴇ sɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.”

All at once the desire dissipates, and the panic sets in like shame. Like failure. They come back over. They sit back down. Then their thoughts catch up and they look at Cassius with fury. How dare he do that? How dare he go into their head and make them feel that?

Cassius just smiles. Shrugs. “Sorry. Figured I’d show not tell.”

‘’I could’ve killed him.”

Cassius shrugs, unshaded and unconvinced. “Nah. You would’ve got halfway down the hall and changed your mind.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“Then you would’ve gotten to his room and realised you didn’t know how. You wouldn’t have killed him.”

“I might’ve,” they protest, still indignant.

Cass shrugs, smile lazy and tired, “But you didn’t.”

They try, for a few moments, to hold on to the anger. The indignation. It’s so, so easy to hate him when he’s far away. When they can’t see him or only see him at a distance. It’s much much harder three feet away from him, where the moonlight show the bags under his eyes as dark as the bruise blossoming above his temple.

“He takes you away from here sometimes,” they say eventually. “You could… when you were away from here. You could leave. Make him let you leave. That’s not that hard.”

Cassius just looks at them, chin resting on his hand, fingers covering his mouth. He raises his eyebrows at them expectantly, foot bouncing like a motor. He’s probably trying to look annoyed. Sarcastic. But he just looks like a sad little boy.

Understanding clicks in.

“But Henri…” Harley voices for him.

Cassius shrugs a shoulder. A tear manages to make it all the way to his cheekbone before he swipes it away with the side of his fist. The Bergen Boys don’t cry. “Told you. Complicated.”

This isn’t how things are meant to be. Cassius is meant to stay in the other wing, up on his damn pedestal and away in Christopher’s bedroom. He’s not meant to cry in the common room. He’s meant to be the golden boy in his golden room. It’s meant to be easy to hate him. He’s meant to be arrogant and selfish and mean and rude and-

“Your French isn’t better than mine,” they say suddenly. They can’t quite say where the compulsion to say it comes from.

Cassius blinks, “What?”

“In the office before, you said your French was better than mine. It’s not.”

He looks at them for a moment, frowning and annoyed and then suddenly he’s laughing, eyebrows shooting up in exhausted amusement, “You’re weird as fuck, you know that?”

“What? No I’m not,” Harley spits, suddenly self-conscious and antsy.

“Yes you are,” Cassius says. “I did you a fucking favour and a half tonight-“

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“And you know what, you’re welcome by the way.”

“I never asked you to-”

“Oh, save it. Yes you fucking did. You know what I can do. You know what I can feel. You were basically fucking screaming at me.”

And that, they do remember. Closing their eyes. Drowning Christopher’s voice out in their head. The huge loud static of I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this.

The air stills. The atmosphere between them settles like dust in the shadows and darkens again. Guilt creeps over Harley's shoulders and rests with heavy claws. They shouldn’t have said anything.

“My French is more usable than yours,” Cass mutters.

They’re truly unsure if he’s being genuine or just trying to break the ice that’s frosted over. They try for the latter, “Your grammar sucks.”

“Yeah, well we didn’t get much further than ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’, so I don’t think I did fine,” he gives them a dead-eyed smile that they assume is meant to cast the comment in humour. They don’t really find it very funny.

After a few awkward beats, Cassius gives up the ghost. He clears his throat, “Alright. My turn,”

Harley readjusts in their seat, straightening their spine, tucking their hair behind their ears to listen for the question. They wait one moment. And then two. The whole time the golden boy seems to scrutinise them, looking into their eyes as he sizes them up, makes some sort of assessment.

Cassius’ voice is low and jarringly sad as he finally lands on a question, “Why do you hate me so much?”

If it was possible for Harley to feel every cell in their body crystallise… that was what this feeling was. “I don’t hate you.”

Cassius smiles. Tilts his head. The blood along his temple catches in the light. “No lies.”

Harley frowns and looks away, turning their head to look out the window across the other side of the room. They wonder if he remembers the day they met as well as they do. It was in this room. Just a few feet from where they were sitting now. He’d been sitting on the arm of the couch making some smart mouth comment to someone and they’d thought he looked friendly. And then his eyes had met theirs and prediction hit like an epiphany:

You’re going to kill me one day.

Unprompted, unbidden and with the utmost certainty. A slice of truth falling into their head.

You’re going to kill me one day to save yourself.

They knit their fingers together in their lap, pressing knuckle to knuckle. They press their lips into a thin line. Something with wings — a bird or a bat, they can’t tell — takes flight from one of the trees outside the window. Darkness reflects darkness back.

After it becomes clear they’re not going to answer, Cassius prompts again, “Was it something I did?”

They shrug one shoulder. Like he does. Look down at their hands. The shadows across the room dance and shimmer.

“Is it because of…” out of the corner of their eye, Harley sees him wave a hand at himself. “You know. What I do.” A pause. They see his Adam’s apple bob. “The way I do it.”

Harley frowns, ducks their head lower so they don’t have to look at him, even in periphery. They manage to shake their head this time.

“Is it…” Cassius stops and starts. Stalls. Clears his throat. “Is it something I’m going to do?”

Harley finds themself looking up, despite themself.

They meet his eyes. Time stops for a second.

Cass looks so full of grief for a moment that Harley’s certain the rest of the world must’ve been robbed of it. All shoved into one person to hold for a second. His voice sounds wrecked, “I’m sorry.”

They almost believe him, too. And they hate him all the more for it.

Did he have to be so perfect at this, too? Did he have to be forgivable for this, too? Can’t they just hate him? Can’t they just hate his guts and let him get whadt he’s owed for the things that he’s done, does, is going to do? They want to ask him. They want to tell him. All of it. They want to see his face as he tries to figure out how to respond. They want to know how he feels when he finds out he’s gonna be a murderer.

“It’s okay,” is what tumbles out of their mouth instead.

“Yeah,” Cass laughs and another tear makes it out of him. They hate him for it. He swipes at it with the side of a closed fist. “No it isn’t.”

They hate him as he stands up.

They hate him as he cuts the conversation short.

They hate him as he passes and gives the back of their chair a pat.

“See you around, Harls.”

They watch the window for the flash of light as the door opens, a yellow glow spilling into the room for a moment like blood from a cut. And then the door shuts with a click. And the room is back to its inky darkness. And the golden boy is gone. And Harley isn’t.

And their hatred is an unspooled ball of yarn in the middle of the floor.

#harley #cassius #bergen estate #implied or referenced noncon #victim blaming cw #death mention cw #violent cw #wip to wob #this is your reminder that you can go back and finish an old piece and post it #for free #may your abandoned wips be more of a prodigal son to you #im mixing metaphors like cake batter babeyyy #we are the daughters of the wips you forgot to burn

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renegadesstuff · 7 months

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Ainsley Whitly in S1E20, “Like Father...” ❤️

#prodigal son #ainsley whitly #prodigal son series #prodigal son rewatch #prodigal son edit #save prodigal son #renew prodigal son #prodigal son season 1 #1x20 #like father...#like father like daughter

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fansformentalydistroyedmen · 7 months

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Last Names

A Malcolm Bright x Reader Fan fic

Your last name is a secret his is hidden can this love start and survive with two traumatized people. Dumb parents

Chapter 1- The Meeting

“Hold on Sam! Don’t let go! I’m trying, the rope just won’t cut. No Sam! Sam! Mom! Dad!” I sit up fast panting and hot tears running. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. I rub my eyes and look at the clock. It was about 5 in the morning. An hour of sleep is not too bad. I roll out of bed and straight into the shower. Trying to be as fast as possible I don’t even bother trying to warm up the shower. It’s not the day to try and get over my fear of water. As I watch my hands shake as I try to scrub my hair I close my eyes and as always, there they are just like always, haunting me. “Go away.” I whisper desperately. Opening my eyes and being blinded by sunlight as it floods my bathroom. I finish up and get out, quickly getting ready for work. I grab my phone and walk out of my apartment. As soon as the door opens I can hear the busy city of New York. The loud car horns, the screaming people, and of course the sound of construction. I wave down a taxi and get in thanking the driver. As he drives away I stare out the window letting my leg bounce up and down. It’s a bright day, the sun is way too bright, not a cloud in sight. This city is terrible to live in with constant migraine but you learn to deal with the pounding in your head. I rummage through my purse and pop a couple of my daily meds, an anti anxiety, some to help with the migrain, then a few for panic attacks, and so on and so just anything they claim will help, they never really do. The rest of the taxi ride is quiet as I let my head fall back. Once my ride comes to a stop I pay and get out. I walk into the police precinct. Immediately I am flooded with familiar sounds and faces making me relax. I walk over to my desk throwing my stuff on the table. I slump into my chair and rub my face. Soon someone taps me on my shoulder, my friend Dani.

“You look tired.” She hands me a cup of coffee. I am immediately overwhelmed with the smell of terrible coffee. I smile and take a sip, is it disgusting, yes, will it only be one of thirteen, again yes.

“Thanks.” I take another sip

“You look tired, late night?” She smirks.

“Yep you know the fun stuff, insomnia, nightmares, and the occasional attack from my cat, Penny.”

“Boring you really got me excited in the beginning.” She says with a slight frown. I raise my eyebrow.

“Really you had even the slightest of hopes my night went different. Do you even know me.” I laugh. She rolls her eyes at me and walks to her desk. I start to fill out some boring paperwork and continue with my coffee. Until my Boss and Mentor Gill walks out.

“We’ve got a case!” He yells out as he throws a coat over his shoulders. With that everyone on my team gets up and leaves. I jump into Gill's car and he starts driving while Dani and my other team member JT follow behind us.

“So how are you doing?” Gill starts with his usual questions.

“You know, fine nothing exciting.” I shrug.

“How's the nightmares?” Again with the questions.

“Preventing me from sleeping but I got a whole hour last night.” With that Gills chuckles.

“So what about the migraine?” Listen, all these questions are sweet but my answers never change.

“Painful but bearable.” Once again I reply now for the lecture.

“You know if you drank more water instead of the, what is that your fifth cup of coffee this morning?”

“6th thanks for underestimating me.” I can see his eye roll. The rest of the car ride is quiet besides the tap of my foot on the floor. Once we arrive I get out but Gill stays.

“I’ll be back, just head upstairs.” I look at him weirdly but follow his instructions. I walk up the stairs and show my I.D. I see Dani and JT so I walk up to them.

“So what do we have?”

A single homicide looks pretty straight forward.” JT claims.

“Boring.” I groan realizing that was said out loud and not just in my head.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean that I just mean it shouldn't be too bad. No no of course her murder was bad I...never mind.” I bite my lip trying to shut up as JT shakes his head. We all start examining her body. Something felt wrong with this case. It was just a feeling but something was off. A couple minutes later I hear Gill talking to Dani and JT and they do not seem happy. I must of zoned out and missed something. I look straight forward only to be met with bright blue eyes.

“Holy!” My hand goes for my heart.

“Sorry you scared me.’ I shake my head.

“Oh sorry ma’am.” The strange man says. My head tilts in curiosity. Who was he and why was he so comfortable in a crime scene. I watch the wheels in his head turn as he stares at the lady.

“Can I help you?” His eyes shoot up to look me dead in the eye.

“Oh sorry, I just haven’t seen you around here before. Normally it's all the same people. I’m Y/N by the way, not that it matters.’ I smile

“Hi Y/N, I'm Malcolm Bright, a Consultant.” He smiles softly but as soon as he said his last name something went off in my head.

“Not to be blunt but why did you just lie to me about your last name?” I ask as curiosity takes over.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry when you said your last name you blinked a few extra times, that's a tell for when people lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You just did it again, the whole blinking thing.”

“I’m not lying, you must be mistaken.” He looks down at the body again.

“Why do you keep lying, you must be a terrible liar.”

“Listen, ignore the blinking thing, why did you introduce yourself with just your first name is the question? People normally use their last name.” I bite my lip at that.

“I don’t like being called by my last name, that’s my parents name not mine.”

“If you won’t tell me the truth I won’t tell you either.” He looks back at the body, I narrow my eyes at the strange man in front of me. Who was he? Why was he here? Questions flooded my head. I was caught off guard when he stood up quickly. He looked angry, I hope I didn’t upset him. Just then he starts going off about how this was a copycat of the surgeon. He went into the surgeon with a fine tooth comb. It was crazy the amount of details he knew about this case. He later stormed out of the apartment and Gill followed. I closely trailed him. He was my ride back and if he was leaving I was too. I could see them arguing. Soon Gill caught a glimpse of me so I walked out.

“Time to go back to the precinct?” Gill rubbed his face.

“Yeah, Bright gets to sit up front he’s older.” My eyes widened but I did not have the energy to argue as my head started to pound even harder.

“Fine whatever.” I exclaim as I rub my eyes and get into the back of the car. Malcolm stares at me weirdly as he gets into his seat. The car ride is quiet which I accept gratefully as it now felt like my head was going to burst open all over the backseats. Once we arrive at the precinct everyone trails into the conference room and starts talking over the case. I sit in my chair with my knees pulled up to my chest as Malcolm goes over a Profile of the killer. Once he is finished people start to trail out of the room as I stare at the board soaking in everything. Malcolm shows up behind me.

“So see anything?’ I gasp at the sudden person and noise behind me.

“Sorry, no, geez what do you have with scaring me.” I rub my eyes viciously.

“I don’t do it on purpose, just Y/N.” He says snarkily.

“Oh so that's how it's going to be Malcolm. So you're a profiler?”

“Yep and I can profile you and anyone else.”

“Ah really.” I laugh

“Yep like I can tell that either you're high on anxiety or that’s your 9th cup of coffee. Which is because you haven’t slept because of something that obviously haunts you. Family issues, financial struggle no your to put together for that, medical issues would explain the migraine you have. So what is it?” My eyes widen and my anxiety picks up as my legs shakes more viscously.

“None.” I say as I stand up way too quickly. The world starts to spin and I feel my legs start to give out. I grab onto the table as he reaches for me. I grab my head as he hesitantly places a hand on my shoulder.

“You good?” He stares with scared eyes. I blink a couple of times.

“I’m fine, sorry I stood up too quickly.”

“Maybe you should sit down or drink something other than coffee.”

“I’m fine but thank you.” I walk out of the room quickly and go to the bathroom knowing its the only place he can’t follow me. I quickly lock the door and slide down it covering my face.

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blueiight · 8 months

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LOUIS: calls claudia to her face ‘ sister ‘ even tho he regards her as his redemption baby

LESTAT: me, your brother? your cousin? your aunt? LOL NO Bitch I Made You. I am your Creator™️

#hereditary comp is crazy lestat is more tyrell to claudia’s roy batty 😭🦗 s/o the bible & the prodigal son/daughter #claudia was calling lestat uncle the same way i call him or any man way older than me ‘unc’ or ‘sir’. shes just a southern lady.#Dont forget how he told louis ‘i put you on this earth’🦗🦗🦗 LOUIS HAD A FATHER AND A MOTHER MY DEAR UNCLE LES.#claudia shouldve lived to the 60s to where sister took on that problack connotation so id belly-laugh aloud #im going to write that . somehow. based off anne’s first drafts #yn.#iwtv #family from hell

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gatogotica · 1 year

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malcolm bright is female-coded because nobody listens to him even though he’s right 99% of the time. also he is the parent to his younger sister and both his actual parents. hope this helps

#most of my pson posts are abt malcolm and his eldest daughter syndrome and idec I’ll keep talking about it until I die #that man is a single mother of 3 and 2 of his kids are his parents #the way I guffawed when jessica called malcolm to save her with her sister #I was like not you literally running to your son to be your parent im in tears #jessica: I never relied on a man to save us. unless the man is malcolm. in which case he can save me constantly #gil is the only bitch out here not relying on malcolm as a parent #but honestly he was asleep at the wheel in s2 like sir I need you to go check on your son he’s not doing well!#my post #prodigal son #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #pson

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rearranging-deck-chairs · 1 month

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bladesmitten · 4 months

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the durge&orin and zuko&azula parallels... the bhaalspawn duel and the final agni kai... can anyone hear me

#.txt #and if i may take this further. the edgeworth&franziska parallels............#i love you the prodigal son and ambitious yet neglected daughter sibling dynamic

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samdeancrimespree · 1 month

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that phone call from john in scarecrow is so telling. like it’s literally the first interaction they have with him outside of flashbacks and what happens…

sam answers the phone. john is smiling, and he calls sam sammy and asks how they are, gives condolences, like a normal parent. he explains himself to sam, at least partially, and sam pushes back multiple times before john snaps at him.

“I’m giving you an order. now you stop following me and do your job.”

dean wakes up once sam starts arguing with him. he realizes it’s john and looks devastated. he has to beg multiple times for sam to give him the phone, and he has to grab it from sam’s hand.

we don’t even hear what john says to dean, because we don’t have to.

“dad! it’s me. where are you?” eyes wide, voice soft, like a scared kid who got lost at the mall.

it takes all of ten seconds for dean to remember who what he is. his face changes, his voice changes, and he follows his orders, the good little soldier sam just accused him of being.

sam gets annoyed that dean obeys their father without questioning him. but what was he supposed to do? the only structure in his life, since before he was even old enough to go to school, was his father’s orders. even if he thought they were unfair, he had no one to turn to. dean functioned as a buffer between john and sam. he’s the soldier, so sam doesn’t have to be. john loves sam easily but dean, for whatever reason, has to earn it.

#the way he goes from Dad! to yes sir. makes me so sick #young dean breaks my fucking heart #prodigal son Sam #oldest daughter dean #daddy’s blunt little instrument #dean #s1 #1.11 #john #the family business #spn studies #mars.txt #liveblogging from mars

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mistergreatbones · 7 months

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yes death in the family is sad but it's also really funny that they were like "willis is just a down on his luck man trying to provide for his family :'( he just made a few bad choices because of his economic standing but he's not a bad guy D:" but also he's friends with an assassin and a woman who exmeraminted on teenage girls.

like one evil gf i believe he could be in the dark about but two? interesting coincesdence there billyboy

#leo says shit #willis todd #death in the family #tw human experimentation #i think making willis abusive was a stupid retcon because there was so much poteintal there #i think he should be a career henchgoon for various different villians #like that'd be so much more interesting and also explain jason's deal so much better #dick's the prophetized prodigal son of the court of owls #cass is the daughter of batman's mentors #babs' his greatest ally and steph one of his villians #Tim's family's probably from a fortune 500 that knew bruce #and damian's a prince and duke is a literal demigod #like when is it jay's turn for destiny to have placed him on this path?

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bootlegfrank · 4 months

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HIIII i love your stuff its so nice to see another whitlycest shipper!! i know you said your heart is very set on martin/malcolm but...teehe... do u have any ainsley/martin thoughts? he loves his boy. but also! his girl!! now that im thinking abt it the three of them together is making my brain explode into a million pieces. THANKS FOR UR TIIIME AND YUMMY MARTIN/MALCOLM FOOD

Oh I definitely see the appeal in Ainsley/Martin. It's not the same as with Malcolm because Martin obviously didn't favour his daughter, but when you're locked up and you start seeing her on TV, start seeing this other part of yourself manifested as a successful adult, well you can't not be proud of her. And then obviously when she kills a man, when this rage nobody knew was inside of her explodes and she does such a good job, you start to wonder if maybe she is more like you than you first thought. I think Ainsley has been severely deprived of her dad, barely remembers him and didn't get to see him at all, so when she finally goes to visit him and he's so gentle and nice with her, I can imagine how she craves his attention maybe even more than Malcolm does.

#so happy to see another whitlycest shipper out there!!#father/daughter is in general extremely boring to me but This scenario with the two of them i love #also i think ainsley would be proactive with her attraction to martin #malcolm is kinda meek and insecure and would wait for martin to make any moves #but ainsley would just straight up tell martin what she expects and wants from him #ainsley whitly #martin whitly #ainsley/martin #prodigal son #asks

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crownofbegonias · 1 year

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is there any other way to further cement malcolm bright’s eldest daughter syndrome than to genderbend him? i think not

#I will say it till I’m hoarse. malcolm is literally the embodiment of eldest daughter syndrome!#takes care of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE in the family…his parents AND ainsley all call him firsf for help/advice…#like come on. not to mention how Malcolm is genuinely Ainsley’s parent #literally the parentification of malcolm bright. let’s discuss it #anyways…I’m clearly very normal about this…#malcolm bright #prodigal son #prodigal daughter more like #pson #prodigal son fanart #genderbend #female malcolm bright #genderbent malcolm bright #or transfem malcolm if you prefer #anyways fem!malcolm is short queen rep love all my tiny ladies out there 🫶🏼🫶🏼

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rigattoni-archives · 10 months

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tag dump 001 !

reflection :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ݃ estranged daughter ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ݃ prodigal son ꜝ ﹐

starters :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 ݃ 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 ݃ 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 ꜝ ﹐

interactions :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵 ݃ dialogue ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵 ݃ dialogue ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ݃ dialogue ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ݃ 𝙛𝙩 . ryu seojun ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ݃ 𝙛𝙩 . ryu seojun ꜝ ﹐

inbox :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘪𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘹 ݃ 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 ꜝ ﹐

plots :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 ݃ 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 ꜝ ﹐

headcanons :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘴 ݃ headcanons ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘴 ݃ headcanons ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘴 ݃ headcanons ꜝ ﹐

musings :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩 ݃ musings ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩 ݃ musings ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩 ݃ musings ꜝ ﹐

misc :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘶𝘴 ݃ 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀 ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤 ݃ tattoos ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗶𝗺. ꒲ 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤 ݃ wardrobe ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤 ݃ tattoos ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻. ꒲ 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤 ݃ wardrobe ꜝ ﹐

playlist :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ general. ꒲ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ݃ 𝘀𝗵𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗹𝗲 ꜝ ﹐

out of office :

˓˓ ೀ ‘ k. ꒲ 𝘱𝘦𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 ݃ 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲 ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ k. ꒲ 𝘱 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 ݃ 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ꜝ ﹐

˓˓ ೀ ‘ k. ꒲ 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 ݃ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗲 ꜝ ﹐

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