#I’m sure I’ve forgotten some really important characters and then I’ll feel like a parent who forgot their kid at school

[imogenkol]

— 10 CHARACTERS / 10 FANDOMS / 10 TAGS

Rules: List 10 of your favorite characters from 10 different fandoms and then tag 10 people!

tagged by @ladyyennefer and @simonxriley Thank you! 💕

tagging: @statichvm @adelaidedrubman @marivenah @kyber-infinitygems @cassietrn @jillvalentinesday @socially-awkward-skeleton @florbelles @chuckhansen @e-the-village-cryptid

Commander Lexa (The 100) — the love of my life, my number one from now until the end of time, deserved a far better ending and I will forever be bitter about it.

Ellie Williams (The Last of Us) — I would walk through fire for this character. I love her more than my own life.

Bix Caleen (Andor) — it was so hard to only pick one Star Wars character, but she really has a special place in my heart now. Also deserved better. Tony Gilroy I am in your fucking walls.

Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption 2) — all I wanted to do was root and toot and yee and haw, but this game made me deeply love this man. I frequently cry about him.

Jessica Jones (Marvel) — she’s an absolute mess, she’s an asshole, but by god does she try.

Emma of Normandy (Vikings: Valhalla) — look, I’m usually strongly Team Viking in these shows, but her first scene made me switch sides in record time. I will also defend her actions in s2 with my full chest. I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs.

Senua (Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice) — I haven’t even played this game myself, but it completely altered my brain chemistry. Senua truly reached into my fucking soul. I cry when I think about her for more than a few minutes. “All she needed was a little help. A little hope.”

Villanelle (Killing Eve) — everything is wrong with her <3

Lestat de Lioncourt (Interview With The Vampire) — everything is wrong with him <3

Inej Ghafa (Six of Crows) — One of the most perseverant characters I’ve ever read. The end of her story is so beautiful and it makes me full on sob every single time without fail.

[alltheshadesofamber]

Wait, okay can you please tell me what the canon characterization of Jason is? I’m a new comics fan and it’s so hard to separate canon and fanon traits from the batfam sometimes and I’d appreciate any and all insight 🙏 I really want to write a batfam fic w/ Jason in it but have been too scared of accidentally mischaracterizing him to start lol

Thank you for asking this! I hope you don’t regret it! 😂 I’ve never really written meta before, I struggle with formatting essays, and it’s been a while since I’ve written anything really at all, so sorry if it doesn’t flow well! I basically just periodically added something to it whenever I thought of it. Sooo this ended up longer than I thought it would be! 😅

This is all my personal interpretations of Jason’s character, disjointed as it may be! I’ll also admit that characterization can be tweaked depending on what you want out of the story, and I am not immune to this! And when it comes to pre-Crisis and post-Crisis Robin!Jason, I’ll admit I do get a little turned about regarding what may or may not be canon anymore, because in my opinion it’s not really clear! I do my best to weave some stuff together to make some stuff make sense, but this really isn’t something I’m used to putting down on paper into words, and I’m sure some other people have done or could do better. Furthermore, I prefer to take post-New 52 stuff with a massive grain of salt, because the New 52 was just. Yikes! Honestly most Jason stuff even pre-New 52 is just inconsistent. If you’re a Jason fan you prooooobably already know that though! His characterization is a tangled mess! Why do I even like him? Answer: He makes my brain go brrrrrr. I did my best to wrangle my thoughts here.

None of this is consistent either. My thoughts on Jason change like. All the time. This isn’t even all of them. And like, I tried to stick mostly to canon, but I will admit even I am willing to bend on this stuff a bit to make relations a little smoother in my head sometimes.

Also people are complicated and composed of contradictions, and every character can be said to be an unreliable narrator of their own story! I think that’s something important to keep in mind when it comes to my interpretations, and I tried to have that come across. Without further ado, my collected Jason Todd ramblings:

Let me start by saying, I just think Jason’s fascinating. And cool! I like his potential for depth and his leather jackets and his righteous fury and his refusal to be ignored or forgotten and his determination and his sense of humor and his intelligence and his attitude and I just think he’s great.

Jason was a good kid! He was the best kid, actually. He had a rough life, but he never gave up and he made do with what he had. He was scrappy. He was funny! I feel like an important part of Jason’s original post-Crisis origin to mention is the fact that he made Batman laugh. That’s always stuck out as important to me, and I’ve always felt it should be important for defining Jason and Bruce’s relationship and Jason as Robin and Jason in general, and I’m disappointed it’s been left out of later reimaginings as far as I’m aware. Jason Todd is the kid who made Batman laugh! Not only that, he made Bruce Wayne laugh, on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths, in the very spot where they died in Crime Alley! Jason was a light in Bruce’s life. Jason made him laugh. He did that. And little 11/12 year old Jason, when faced with a Batman he had just stolen tires from and having been caught in the act, was fearless. He wasn’t cowed at all! He denied taking the tires to his face, then he hit the goddamn Batman with a tire iron and ran away daring Batman to catch him! “Try and catch me, you big boob!” He had gumption and spirit to spare! And on top of that, he had an unflagging desire to do good. Batman sent him to a school to get Jason off the streets and somewhere safe, and when it turned out the school was actually a front for criminal enterprises, what did Jason do? He could’ve walked away. It would’ve been understandable, he was just a kid. But no. Jason decided that he had a duty, a responsibility. So he tried to stop a museum heist. And that’s when Bruce took him in, post-Crisis. So what have we established about Jason so far? He’s funny, he’s daring, he’s cheeky! He’s got an unrelenting desire to do good and a sense of responsibility to do so that most fully grown people don’t have. And Jason was a great Robin. He was smart, eager to learn, eager to help people and so very earnest about it all. He was a sweetheart. He was kind and considerate, sensitive and so so empathetic. He had a bleeding heart and he wore it on his sleeve. And I don’t know why I’m saying “was,” not really, because he still is most, if not all, of those things, even if they don’t present in exactly the same way anymore, or aren’t as obvious.

He excelled at school and he cared about it, it was important to him. He wouldn’t stand for injustice, and he wouldn’t keep quiet about it. He was exceptionally bright, gave everything his all, and he was recognized and praised for it by Bruce and Alfred. Dick liked him too. As Robin, Jason was never discouraged or led to believe he wasn’t good enough by any external forces. Bruce was actually very vocal and communicative about how great he thought Jason was.

I also have a particular fondness for Robin!Jason’s adventures with the Titans. His talk with Donna showed him to be responsible, level-headed, humble, intuitive, and very insightful! He’s able to get to the heart of what Donna’s dealing with and give her solid advice, while at the same time reminding her that he’s just a kid and he’s still got a lot to learn and he knows it. He’s also able to deduce that Roy is hiding something, as well as what that something may be.

Bruce suspecting him of killing Garzonas, Sheila betraying him to the Joker, dying brutally and bloodily, coming back, digging his way out of his own grave, regaining awareness only to find out that the Joker was still alive, Batman had a new Robin… that he had died, that he’d loved them so much, put his faith and trust in his new family, and he’d been forgotten? Replaced? As though he meant nothing to them? That his death hadn’t changed anything? It broke Jason. It shattered him to pieces. But as previously established, Jason is nothing if not resilient. Irrepressible. An unstoppable force. He put in the time, the effort, the sweat and tears (and there were tears when he first broke. Jason’s first reaction to the news about the Joker and a new Robin was heartbreak. He was devastated. The anger came later. And it was a righteous kind of anger) and he remade himself. Jason melted down the broken pieces of who he was, honed his skills to mastery levels with a frightening dedication and speed, and through trials by fire, forged himself into a weapon on par with Batman.

He’s resilient, in all ways. He can take a beating, he can take pain, he can take disappointment and betrayal and failure, and every time he will rally and come back swinging. He’s determined and dedicated. He’s got an insane work ethic, and learning comes ridiculously easy to him. He doesn’t get daunted or intimidated, not really. He’s a survivor. He looks the worst of the worst in the face and he doesn’t back down.

Jason has never been afraid or hesitant to make his feelings clear, and he intrinsically knows his own worth. He’s never been shy to say when he feels he’s been mistreated. He doesn’t expect the best of others, not anymore, not really (but maybe there is some flickering flame of hope he can’t quite smother—) but he has self-respect and no doubts about it (maybe some fleeting thoughts of “was it my fault? Did Bruce ever really love me? Was I a bad Robin? Etc” but we all have those kinds of intrusive thoughts, don’t we?)

He’s confident, because he has the skills to back it up. He’s self-aware, to an extent; he knows his limits, knows what he can and can’t do, and he knows when it’s time to call it a day and retreat. But also if he’s going down he will not go down without a fight, and he will drag you down with him. He likes to cause problems on purpose, and he escalates; you hit him, he’ll hit back harder.

It’s established that there’s a bomb in his helmet. I think that says a lot. I don’t think he ever intended to survive his showdown with Bruce, but I also don’t think he wanted to die, not really. I think he might have seen it as inevitable though. Or maybe he didn’t want to live in a world where his dad didn’t kill his murderer. I don’t know. I’m not sure Jason knows either.

He’s snarky and quick-witted, razor-sharp and acerbic and irreverent. His wields his words just as skillfully as he does all the other weapons at his disposal. But also sometimes he’s just having fun and being annoying for the sake of it. He’s frighteningly intelligent, despite what more recent writers would like you to believe. He’s a great detective, and he has a wide range of skills and he’s mastered all of them. He’s an overachiever to the core. He’s hypercompetent. He puts his all into everything he does. He’s good at reading people, better than anyone thinks he is, which is possibly linked to that strong empathy I mentioned earlier. He does have a flare for the dramatic, and he is very very good at it. He’s got theatricality, he’s a master showman. He’s resourceful and clever.

Jason is immensely skilled! He spent a year going around the world, learning all the same skills Bruce learned, but with the training wheels off, so to speak. And he mastered each one in record time! He didn’t just become proficient, he mastered them! He surpassed his teachers! And it only took him at most a few weeks each time! He learns incredibly quickly and picking up skills and techniques comes naturally to him. Jason’s more than a match for Bruce on a strictly physical level. (Sometimes post-Flashpoint does have its cool moments, like that time Jason took out a bunch of heroes pursuing him, a group including Bruce and Damian, all while falling off a building, if I’m remembering that right) And when it comes to the mental level? Jason’s a master tactician and strategist. He’s outmaneuvered Batman multiple times over the years, even on the fly. He was two steps ahead of Bruce all of UtRH.

I don’t see Jason as especially reckless or impulsive, at least no more so than any of the other Bats. I think he processes things very quickly and is very adaptive. So it might seem as though he’s taking a major risk or acting without thinking, but in reality he’s thought through his options and his risks and decisions are carefully calculated.

He’s not afraid of the Joker. This is made clear in UtRH.

He’s completely in control of his own actions and he always has been. “Lazarus Pit Madness” isn’t a prolonged or recurrent phenomena, and his feelings and homicidal actions are all his own, for better or worse. I personally just dislike that bit of fanon very much. I feel it takes away his agency and turns his very real issues and feelings and dismisses them in favor of excusing his actions and absolving him of the blame. I get why people like it and latch on to it and use it, because it makes writing happier Batfam dynamics easier, gives an excuse to speed up reconciliation, and gets rid of any consequences for his actions, except of course angst and guilt when needed. But I just don’t like it. I think it reduces him as a character.

I don’t think he loses sleep over killing. At least not when he’s first reintroduced. But later characterizations may vary.

I honestly don’t know what I feel about Jason’s relationship with Alfred is or should or would be after Jason’s return. There’s not much canon to extrapolate from, if I remember correctly. I know that’s led to a lot of popular fanon being about them reconnecting and having a fairly smooth and accepting relationship, and I’ll accept that when it comes up in fic, but. I don’t know. I don’t really feel it. And the lack of canon to draw on in the wake of UtRH sort of works against that interpretation for me, and in my opinion lends more credence to the opposite. I also think that relationship (really all of Jason’s relationships) deserves more depth than that. I wouldn’t call myself a fan of fluff for fluff’s sake, I don’t like the idea that Jason turns mushy and compliant where Alfred’s concerned, or suddenly turns into some kind of a sheepish chastened schoolboy from his very presence, and I like when characters feelings and relationships aren’t too straightforward. Complex relationships are something I adore.

I could conceivably see Jason getting along with Tim and Damian, but like. I don’t know how they’d get there. I guess I don’t have to ponder that, because DC canon has said they’re already there somehow, but still. I’m not super against it, I’d just like to understand more. I’m not against the idea of a more amiable (to a degree) Batfamily in principle, but in practice I think it’s just not really delivering what I want. Too many characters at once means everyone tends to get simplified in group scenes to a quip or a jab, and I’m tired of Jason being reduced to a joke or insult about him dying or having daddy issues or being some kind of meathead. It’s aggravating. (He’s also not the only one this happens to in this situation, and I absolutely am upset by how the others get reduced too, both in canon and fanon, Jason’s just the one I’m talking about right now)

Talia did not manipulate Jason. She didn’t brainwash him, she didn’t goad him into hating or trying to kill Bruce or the others, she didn’t treat him badly, or intend to use him as a weapon against Bruce, or anything like that. Her original plan was to nurse Jason back to health and return him to Bruce. When that didn’t work, she put him in the Lazarus Pit to heal him because she feared for his safety. Jason didn’t even show any signs of Lazarus Pit Madness afterwards, by the way. She informed him of the Joker’s continued existence and the new Robin, yes. So what? He needed to know. Returning Jason to Bruce was still the plan. But Jason’s the one who threw the wrench in that plan. Jason didn’t want to go home. Jason wanted revenge. He wanted to kill Bruce. Talia did not want Jason to kill Bruce. She set up all his training to stall him, in hopes that he would change his mind. She kept watch over him, and she cared about him and for him. She was worried that he might have lost his ability to feel emotions or become a psychopath as a result of everything he’d been through, and when he showed that he was still capable emotions and hadn’t completely lost his sense of morality or empathy, she was relieved.

Jason is very attached to Gotham, just like Bruce. It’s his city, too.

Jason is willing to work with others when it suits him, and when he commits to doing so longterm he’s actually a very good team player. He doesn’t seem to have delusions of grandeur or aspirations of usurpation when it comes to leadership, and he’s not opposed to listening to people who have his respect. And if you aren’t on his bad side then he can be surprisingly cordial and polite. Though perhaps that’s not too surprising; he was a sweet kid, after all.

I wholeheartedly believe that Jason is at his core a good person. The bones are good, the foundation is good; it’s everything else that’s not doing so great. I don’t know if I’d say he’s lost, because I think in a way he’s where he wanted to be; he’s chosen a bad path, and he did so deliberately. Jason has always tried to the right thing, the things that need doing; it’s just that his idea of what the right thing is and what needs to be done has changed.

Jason has also been shown to have a massive well of forgiveness, though I feel that’s mostly post-New 52 canon, where full reconciliation with the other Bats is a thing, so he’d have to be forgiving by necessity. I’m not even going to get in to post-New 52 stuff I think, I find most of it very disjointed and in large part emotionally unsatisfying. There is pre-New 52 pre-death precedent for Jason being astoundingly forgiving though, to an almost saint-like degree; he forgives Sheila for leading him to the Joker and tries to save her life by untying her, and he even tries to shield her from the bomb. Which means a case for the later stuff being in-character could be made. So there is that.

Before Jason died he was also a huge believer in second chances. Sometimes even a bigger proponent of them than Bruce. This is a little hard to reconcile with his later actions, but it’s the truth.

Jason Todd went to Heaven when he died, we learn that in Green Arrow: Quiver.

I’ve seen a lot of comics that have someone, usually Bruce or Jason I think, say something about how they believe (or know, as if it was obvious) that if Bruce hadn’t taken Jason in, Jason would’ve grown up to be a criminal. Let me make this clear: I do not believe that for a second. Jason’s sense of right and wrong was always strong, and his moral convictions were steadfast. He stole as a kid to survive, but when presented with the option of letting something bad happen to someone else when he had the power to stop it, even if it wasn’t much power, even as a kid Jason never took the easy way out. He did what he knew was right.

Jason wants to be seen, but he also wants to be understood. That’s how I interpret his encounters with Dick in the Blood Brothers arc (yuck) and Mia Dearden in Green Arrow. And while I’d prefer to ignore it as a whole, he does make sort of similar overtures to Dick again and Tim in Battle for the Cowl, though I highly doubt he sincerely thought there was any chance at all that they’d accept in that case.

He’s incredibly loyal and devoted to those he loves, and expects that same level of loyalty in return. He sees failing to live up to those standards as a personal betrayal of Bruce’s; and after his return he takes betrayal (pre-New 52) very seriously. If you don’t reciprocate, then in his mind obviously everything else was a lie. If Bruce didn’t kill the Joker for killing Jason, did Bruce ever really love him at all? But he also knows for a fact that Bruce did love him. It’s complicated!

He knows Bruce loves him; but Bruce doesn’t love him the way he wants to be loved, or in a way that he interprets as true or able to be trusted, at least not anymore. It isn’t enough. Jason loves Bruce as much as he hates him.

Jason characterization is tricky! His skills, his strengths, and his smarts are all immutable across continuities and interpretations in my opinion, but the more undefinable things, like his feelings? I will admit, there’s more leeway to be had there. Also I’ve contradicted myself a bit sometimes, I think. Sorry about that! Sorry about all of this, really. I probably repeated myself a lot. In fact I’ve probably already apologized for repeating myself a lot. I don’t have the patience to check or edit this extensively. I did my best! I hope this helps! And thank you for asking me in the first place! Even though this is a mess, I did enjoy doing it!

[fandomfan2000]

Song analysis #3 God of Loss

here's a link to the Song

this is fanart of @brightgoat​‘s ask blog @askcupsandcasinos​, a few of the photos I drew were HEAVILY inspired by some of the stuff Bright's drawn so please check out the original blog. 

I think this Lyric\song title relates to Mugman because of his whole ‘spade’ aesthetic, as we know, according to Brightgoat and king Dice, spades are often associated with death and loss. The whole ‘God” part of this title is more or less ironic, after Mugmans little break down when he and cups visited Quadratus, we now know that he’s still suffering from PTSD and is looking to achieve something more then a mere mortal should, which as Quadratus stated will only end in his demise. Making the title of “god of loss” a perfect fit for the mug.

more under cut 

“My father was a carpenter My mother, she died young”

These lyrics essentially just talk about Elder Kettle. He was Mugman and Cupheads Parental figure. He may not have been a “carpenter” but I see that line as more saying that he was humble and a hard worker, instilling these qualities into Mugman & Cuphead (well more or less). “My Mother she died young” is rather self explanatory, even though Elder Kettle didn't die young, he did pass away when the boys were relatively young, which was equally crushing to Cups and Mugs as a guardian dyeing young, if not more because they had no one left. 

“I’m the eldest of my brothers You’re the trouble in my blood Trouble in my blood”

this line also feels self explanatory but I’ll explain it any way. 

Its basically just stating facts, Mugman is “technically older” then cuphead “by like, a minute or something”. Aaaand Cuphead is usually seen as the trouble maker f the 2 whos always getting them roped into trouble. Which I think Mugman, just judging by the way he treats Cuphead does believe that cuphead is trouble.

This also refers to how Mugs’ ancestors and his relation to him has and will cause nothing but trouble. 

“I swore that I’d stay humble Like my father was before He built the home I live in Of sand and mud and smoke Sand and mud and smoke “

This line correlate’s to Elder Kettle having been a very simple and kind man and how the boys see him in a good light. It also serve as an ironic statement as we all know Mugmans main sin is pride.

I see this line as more about Elder Kettle and Mugs’ ancestors and their effect on them, how they helped shape and build Mugs into the person he is. It also seems like a reference to the Bible and how Adam, the first human, was created. In the Bible God made him by taking, I think it was dust I'm not sure though, from the ground and created man, which I think is close enough to “Sand & Mud & smoke” to have a correlation as all those things come from the earth. I figured a reference to the Bible was fitting considering the whole ‘heaven and Hell’ theme.

“Yes, we will leave here without a trace Take a new name and an old shape”

This line correlates to Mugmans fear of death...or more a fear of being forgotten and not accomplishing anything notable his life before passing. It also correlates to Elder Kettles death and how he just disappeared, everything and everyone related to him went missing after his death.

the picture I drew is a redraw of Elder Kettles grave from this post.

This line refers to the parallels between Cuphead & Mugman vs The legendary chalice and her mystery friend whos been hinted at a few times. How their personalities kind of line up, Cuphead & Chalice being the more outgoing risk takers and Mugman & mystery cup being the prideful scientist’s. Meaning Cups & Mugs are the “new names” but really thanks to their ancestors giving them their signature soul powers, are living in “old shapes’ so to speak. Did any of that make any sense??? anyway moving on

“I’ll be no outlaw, no renegade Just your faithful god of loss”

(Eheheh this is my favorite verse it fits so well >:D)

So this just refers to 3 of the main 4′s roles (Devil, King Dice, Mugman) and kinda, maybe, sorta Mug mans internal thoughts. King Dice is a well known and respected outlaw\criminal as we know, having been having been “outlawed across half the globe” if I'm remembering correctly. The Devils whole thing is that he’s a renegade, fighting against his fathers oppressive rule to create change... even if what he’s doing is ultimately pointless. Lastly Mugman. The line relating to him I've already touched on but again its and of more ironic if anything. Mug man is simply the “god of loss”. 

“So meet me by the river On a boat-shaped piece of earth We press our bones together And the spider does its work With flakes of garlic And petals from a rose If it’s small enough to carry You and I can call it home You and I can call it home”

okokok theres a lot to cover here ahhhh...  

“So meet me by the river” could hint at the river of souls running through purgatory, not particularly relevant but considering that's were the Chalice is, its an important setting in the story so that makes this line relevant. 

“We press our bones together” could reference just the characters and how their dynamics help progress the story, haha that comparison is kind of a stretch though. “And the spider does its work” I think refers to the devil (you know how his head can shape shift into a spider and all-) and his family and how their busy in the background, doing things mugs doesn't really understand or know of yet, which have the possibility of negatively impacting the brothers.

“If it’s small enough to carry You and I can call it home”

this refers to how the mystical inkwell and indirectly the memories the brother carry of Elder Kettle, allow them to find ‘home’ anywhere as long as their with each other and have their basic necessities met. The inkwell is small & their memories require no space to take with them, along with the fact that if they could utilize the inkwell they could create a home, and whole worlds for themselves.

annnywayy that concludes song analysis #3 hope you enjoyed’

stay tuned for more~ 

[spideyspeaches]

Peter Parker x popular!reader and they just start dating and Peter is really nervous around her and gets flustered whenever she’s close so to calm Peter you tell him it’s okay to touch u and maybe a give him a bj

A/N: sjjfkf thanks for sending so many prompts love you 😘😘 hope you like this eheh I don't like it very much ✌ beta read by @parkerpeter24 :)

Warnings: smut :) (characters are 18)

MINORS DNI

Wc: 1.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Girlfriend ↬ p.p

Peter Parker was the kind of guy who would get easily flustered if he was to talk to a girl, or any human as a matter of fact.

So it came off as a big shock to the Avengers when they found out that he, the shy nerdy Peter Parker, had a girlfriend at all.

They were all having a family dinner (something about bonding, Tony had said), when you called him, interrupting him from some Spidey adventure story he was reciting.

"Sorry guys, gotta take this," He said, phone smushed between his cheek and shoulder, fork halfway through his mouth, "uh, hey babe, what happened? Everything okay?"

Bucky and Steve were the first one to break out of their shocked stares as Peter called someone "babe" on the phone. 

Surely you don't call your friend babe, right?

"Peter! Thank God you picked up, can you come over right now?" You said on the phone.

"Uh actually, I'm having dinner, is it okay if I come over in an hour or so?" He said, ignoring the shouted whispers about a brewing conspiracy of who could it be on the phone in the background. 

"Okay, but don't forget like last time! I'm actually calling you to help me out with our chem lab manual-" 

"-didn't we do it during homeroom yesterday?" 

"Yeah but I need help with this one experiment, please Petey? I really need your help with this." You whine, hoping that he would catch your drift. But he didn't apparently, because he sighed, looking over his shoulders to see the Avengers with perked up ears, and replied;

"Okay fine. I'll be there in an hour Okay? Bye." He said and hung up, pocketing his phone and making his way to the dining room, only to be assaulted by a hundred and one questions.

"Peter who was that-"

"You've been keeping secrets from your father figure now-"

"Hope you're being safe, if you know what I mean-" 

"Kids these days." (That was from Steve)

"Guys stop! One by one please!" Peter shouted, holding his hands to his ears, frowning as he glared at them, "why are you all asking these questions?" 

"Because kid, if I'm being honest, we don't believe that you have a girlfriend, so spill the beans." Tony sighed, holding his cheek with his elbow on the table.

"Okay ouch. Why is it so hard to believe have a girlfriend?! I'm hot." Peter pouted, crossing his arms to try and look intimidating.

"Because you're you! You're shy nerdy Peter!" Tony said, gesturing at others to back him up.

"I mean, he's not that bad. Quite a charmer." Natasha smirked, sending him a look, which quite frankly, terrified and impressed Peter at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah totally." 

"I believe you kid. Are we gonna meet her soon?" Tony rolled his eyes, smiling when he blushed red.

"If she's okay with it." He said, intertwining his fingers.

"Well I hope she is, cause I want to meet the girl who stole my kid's heart." 

"Mr. Staaaark!" 

***

Leaving the tower had been a difficult feat, with the constant questions and a snarky comment or two, especially when they found out that you were a cheerleader. 

Rapping his knuckles on your apartment door, he smiled as you greeted him with an excited hug. He couldn't help but look at your skirt, the way it enhanced your waistline, and how it fit just right on your thighs, its frills swaying with the sway of your hips-

"Pete? You coming or what?" You laughed, a hand on your room's door as you look over your shoulder with glinting eyes.

"Uh- uh yeah just a minute. Are your parents home?" He asked casually, following you to your room.

"Nah, they're out for tonight." You said, closing the door behind him.

"Oh that's good, which experiment were you- Uh, what are you doing?" He asked, his voice rising an octave as he saw you unbuttoning your shirt, moving your fingers in slow motion as if to tease him.

"I finished my homework yesterday Petey, that's not why I called you." You whispered, straddling his lap as you hold his face, eyes shining with mischief. He instantly felt his dick harden as you rubbed against him, face burning when you traced his cheekbones, kissing his nose and then his lips.

"What, Uh, what did you call me for then?" He stuttered, holding your waist through the skirt's thin material, fingers itching to tear it off you. His heart was racing and he wondered if you could hear it doing so.

"You know why, it's been so long and I miss you baby." You whined, pouting as he unzips your skirt, watching it slide down your thighs in rivulets. You clench your thighs against his waist, intertwining your toes as you felt the space between your legs starting to wet.

"You met me in school yesterday." He mumbled, puffing his cheeks as he strained to keep a straight face, not with you looking so pretty in just your bra and skirt.

You had been overwhelmingly horny the past few hours, craving for your boyfriend's touch, imagining the way he fucked you against your bed frame as it shook with his strength.

"You miss me huh?" He smirked, catching you off guard when he flipped you over, holding you down as he rocked his hips against yours, leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, reaching between your breasts and stopping a moment enough to hear you whine.

"I missed you so much and I want to fuck you now." You said, sucking a breath when he all but tore your bra, arching your back to let his fingers linger on you.

"Missed you too, missed all of you, missed your wet pussy. Wanna show my pretty girl how much I missed her." He growled, sucking on the sensitive skin of your nipple as he massaged your breasts. 

"Already wet for me eh?" He whispered, nibbling at your ear as he slid his length into You, "Fuck baby such a tight pussy." 

Quickly undressing himself, you openly drooled at how packed your boyfriend was. It was not the first time you would be doing… it together since your six month long relationship, but it was the first time you got to see his dominant side, and it turned you on. 

"Mmhmm yeah, only cause your dick is practically blue." You moaned, hissing when he hit a sensitive spot.

"Fuck, oh shit go faster Peter- oh!" You hissed, your skin slapping with his as he thrusts into you with a gusto.

"You like that babygirl?" He asked, eyes scrunching as he threw his head back, feeling your walls clench against his dick as you moved with him.

"Yes! You're so good oh- I'm gonna cum Peter!" You panted, chest heaving as your stamina decreases with every push and pull, your hands fisted on your sheets hard enough for them to pull out of your mattress.

You saw him flush red, confusion showing on your face as you tilted your head, your  almost orgasm forgotten as you held his cheek, "what happened?" 

"I- you've never um, org-orgasmed before on me." He muttered, his pupils blown wide as he looks at you with the most innocent look ever, and you would have laughed had his dick still not been inside you, midway in the air, his butt held high above. 

"Peter… are You, we've literally fucked so many times and you're getting flustered over me orgasming?" You chuckled, wiping away the sweat forming on his forehead.

"Yeah but you've never come on my bare dick before!" He countered, gulping as he saw you smirk. 

"Everything has a first time doesn't it?" You say, picking yourself upright so that you were chest to chest now, your nipples hardening against his bare chest as you rubbed against him, "Wanna try something?"

Your hand slides down to his dick as he nodded a yes, slowly pumping his balls as you kiss his lips. You hear him moan tour name, the sounds sending wetness dripping down your thighs again. Ignoring your thighs, you bent down to lick the tip of his dick, slick with pre cum and bright pink. 

"Is this okay?" You ask, swirling your tongue teasingly, wetting his already wet dick with your mouth as you sucked at it with a pop.

"This is amazing baby, keep going." He threw his head back, a growl emitting from deep inside his throat, "wow uhhh." 

"Wow what Petey?" 

"Wow you're- you're amazing. God I've- I understand why people like being on the receiving end of the job right now." 

"Job?" You laughed, "hun this isn't a Job." 

"You- you know what I mean!" He chuckled, shaking his head as you continued to suck on it.

"No I don't. Please enlighten me." You smiled, peeping from under your lashes as your tongue works through his hard member. 

"I know you know." He whimpered, hands creeping up to his balls as he tried to take care of his blues.

"No. Lemme do it." You slapped his hands, snickering when he whined. 

"Oh Tony wants to meet you by the way." He said suddenly, making you groan and fall back dramatically.

"You know I don't do family members Petey." You mumbled, pulling him down, his mouth immediately latching onto the underside of your breasts.

"But why? Am I- aren't we serious enough now?" He asked.

Your heart stuttered at the thought of meeting one of the most important people in his life other than May. You and May had already met (post an unfortunate...accident), not to mention he was freaking Iron Man!

"It's not that. It's just, what if he doesn't like me? Or black widow. I'm not your normal nerdy girl with A grades, what if they think I'm not good enough for you? Or that I'm violating you for Spider-Man? What if-" 

"- baby I swear they'll love You! And if they don't then it's their loss, because no matter what you are, who you are friends with, how many A's you get or don't, you'll always be my girl." His voice was soft as his hands moved with featherlight movements, rubbing light circles on your waist, instantly relaxing you. 

"Are you sure?" You said, biting your lips and fiddling with his hair. He gave another moan as your fingers played with his hair, scratching slightly behind his ear.

"Yes bub, they will love you. You're very important to me, you know that right?" He said.

"Even if I wear short skirts and hang out with jocks?" You giggled, resting your forehead on his toned chest, playing with his skin.

"Especially if you wear those short skirts." He smirked, making you roll your eyes as you slapped his chest slightly. Sighing, you kissed him again, rolling over so you were laid on top of him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you let yourself fall asleep, with his clothes in your room and hand in your hair. 

***

Peter woke up the next morning, the incessant ringing of his phone working as an alarm. 

Groaning he rolled over, careful as to not wake you up, squinting at the bright screen of his phone. Before he could cut the ringer though, it cut off on its own, only to be taken over by a text.

You didn't come home last night kiddo 😏

Shit. 

[alltooreid]

Invisible String

Although Spencer Reid and the Reader don’t find themselves in a romance with each other until well into their adulthood, their relationship has been decades in the making. Almost as if something as been pulling them together all these years. 

A/N: sorry for such a long wait but i’ve been struggling a lot mentally as of late. i hope you guys enjoy this one shot!! As always requests are open and heavily encouraged!! And of course this is inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name :)) Also keep in mind although the following scenes are heavily inspired by some scenes in Criminal Minds, elements of them have been slightly altered to fit in Y/N as a character.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute strangers to lovers fluff fic!

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: typical criminal minds case discussion, mentions of child trafficking when discussing this case, but no real detail. slight spoilers for season eight (beginning maeve stuff) and tiny spoilers for season fifteen (briefly mentions max but nothing really important to the plot at all)

“Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?”

You had met Spencer Reid 3 times before you had really met him.  

It was almost silly to think about it now. Now that you and Spencer have been dating for 3 years, it was strange to believe there were so many chances for you two to meet years earlier.

When you were sixteen years old, you got your first part time job. You worked at a self-serve frozen yogurt shop called Iced Dreams. You hated it so much. Your manager was a total creep, your older coworkers were rude and condescending to you, since you were one of the youngest people working there, but most of all you hated the uniforms.

Consisting of a very stupid looking hat, bright pink with randomly embrodiered teal patterns, an outdated bright teal shirt, it had been given to you from a dirty bin in the back, and judging by the sewn in shoulder pads, it had to be at least a couple decades old.

So one day, you didn’t wear the hat.

It wasn’t entirely purposeful. You couldn’t find it, you searched your room, you searched your car, so eventually you had to leave without it to prevent being late. Still, as you clocked it and passed the box of extras in the office something made you decide to leave it alone.

You were about 8 minutes into your shift when your manager approached you. “Y/N? Where’s your hat sweetheart?” You hated this man so much. You had gone to your parents time and time again, recounting his creepy behavior towards you and the other teenage girls who you worked with, but they refused to let you quit.

When you had started working there, he used to enforce this ridiculous rule that all the female workers had to wear skirts as part of their uniform, but you had gathered all the sixteen and seventeen year olds who worked there and all threatened to quit if he didn’t change the policy. So you were no stranger to breaking and defying the rules.  

“Yeah I couldn’t find it, sorry.” you shrugged.

He chuckled and reached his hat out to touch your face. You jerked back, you almost wanted to refuse to wear one of the stupid extra hats just so that you could get fired.

“Well, Y/N its policy sweetie. No matter how special you are to me you still need to wear the hat. There’s extras in the office.”

“No way I’m wearing one of those. I bet they have like lice or something.”

He pursed his lips and sighed “Well I suppose that beautiful hair is just too pretty to wear a used hat huh. . . What do you suggest? If you’re working you have to wear it.”

You laughed, “Well you could let me go home.”

He paused, “Why don’t you go sit in the office, I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

So you did, for about 10 minutes you sat in the office, surrounded by frozen yogurt flavor marking posters and boxes of old uniforms, and each passing minute you feared for the worst. Maybe you were actually getting fired? You really didn’t want to go that far, because, as much as you hated it, you really needed this job.

When your manager finally came to talk to you he held a small salted caramel frozen yogurt, your personal favorite flavor, and a twenty dollar bill. He handed them both to you.

“You seem so stressed Y/N, why don’t you take the day and go get lunch. My treat,” he said, smiling that weird twisted smile that always made your full body shiver.

However you were broke as hell, and no teenager in their right mind would ever pass up free food, so you took it, grabbed your keys and started to leave

Yet as soon as you walked out the back door you dropped your frozen yogurt, cup fully upside down, onto the pavement. You cursed, you hadn’t even taken a bite of it yet, and it looked like he had put coconut flakes on it, and you loved coconut. Still, you had your twenty bucks, and that was a pretty sweet pay out considering you were only clocked in for about 20 minutes.

So you got Chinese food, and spent what was supposed to be your shift in the shopping mall across town, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was dragging your manager away in handcuffs.

➽───────────────❥

Young Spencer Reid had only joined the FBI about a month ago. Despite being a genius, and providing crucial information to the solving of cases, he was aware of the most obvious. He was only twenty two years old, and he was scrawny as hell.

He felt this intense need to prove himself, especially to make Gideon proud.

So when they got a case about a the kidnapping and sex trafficking of teenage girls, he saw it as something he could really involve himself in. Based on the profile, it wasn’t going to be a large, strong, confident unsub who Morgan needed to tackle. This man would be ugly sure, but he would be a manipulative mastermind. Reid could work with that, he could prove himself.

He surprised everyone with his sheer work ethic and determination to find this man, and through consistently revising and delivering the profile soon enough they got a hit. A young woman in her early twenties called the tipline and reported her own manager. Insisting he fit the profile perfectly, and described how strangely he treated the minors who worked there, and how he almost exclusively hired young girls, treated them great and then switched as soon as they became legal.

So Garcia did her magically digging, and soon enough the FBI was tearing up a frozen yogurt shop, looking for any evidence of pedophilia. Garcia was even brought along, as she was pivotal to discovering any secret files in his computer.

At first, all they could find were strange compilation videos and under employees skirts. Spencer, and the rest of the team, were struggling to connect how he could get so many videos from an angle like this without anyone noticing or reporting him, until Gideon uncovered an old dusty pair of shoes, in which the right one held a small camera at the toe.

Although this was absolutely disgusting, it wasn’t enough to prove he was running the ring or kidnapping the girls, so Garcia kept digging. Meanwhile, Spencer tried to make himself useful by checking out the back of the store.

That’s where he found your clock-out receipt.

“Hey guys, we might want to take a look at this,” he shouted out.

Morgan grabbed the paper from his hand, “Ok, I don’t get it kid, it’s trash.”

Spencer pointed to the details on the slip, “Yeah but it says here she clocked out 18 minutes ago after only working for 23 minutes and 46 seconds. If this guy is our unsub, this girl could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe she’s still here, has anyone checked out the parking lot yet?”

Spencer shook his head, and followed Morgan out the back door. There they discovered some almost completely melted salted caramel frozen yogurt.

Morgan bent down to investigate, “Yeah, we gotta get this to the lab, but I can tell you right now that there’s clearly more than just coconut topping this yogurt. It also means we have another victim.”

Spencer crouched down as well, “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean kid? We’re missing a teenage girl and we’ve already found illegal evidence on this guy's computer. She’s in trouble.”

“Well judging the shape and inscription of these pills it appears to be some pretty strong rohypnol, almost certainly prescription grade. And ingesting it like this means she probably would have begun to feel its effects fairly early, I would predict 15 minutes. She clocked out 18 minutes ago, so even if she left exactly at that time she would have certainly crashed her car on the way home. The nearest residence is 8 minutes away from here, we’re in a complete shopping district. There’s only two cars out here and neither have a passed out driver, so I would bet she didn’t eat any of it. Also, the only spoon out here is still wrapped in plastic, “ Spencer analyzed.

Morgan sighed, “Well what do we even do then?”

Before Spencer could answer Hotch opened the back door. “We got him.”

Spencer turned to Morgan, “I’m sure her phone number is somewhere inside, I say we call her and make sure she’s ok. She probably doesn’t even know this is happening right now.”

So he did find your phone number, and although he initially pushed the phone to Morgan, he just chuckled and pushed it back.

“No way pretty boy. You’re the know-it-all with all that profiling out there, you can call her,” and before he could protest Morgan left, so Spencer was left to call you.

And strangely, for it being the first time he would ever interact with the love of his life, he thought nothing of it.

And that was the first time you had met Spencer Reid.

➽───────────────❥

The second time was years and years later, when you were waitressing night shifts to make extra money. You had never forgotten meeting Spencer Reid the first time, but this was the first time you would ever see his face.

You were slightly concerned when you got a call from a man, whose name you had now long forgotten, claiming he worked for the FBI. Although you weren’t incredibly surprised to hear your manager committed such heinous crimes against children, you were taken aback by how close you had come to becoming one of his victims.

But that was 9 years ago. In your college days it became a fun story you told at frat parties, but you were 25 now. Sometimes you would think about the incident when you couldn’t sleep, and if you were feeling feisty you would use it as an icebreaker or a “two truths, one lie” statement, but otherwise you didn’t really think about it.

You had plenty of other things to worry about, in fact, that’s exactly why you worked so much. It was so much easier to forget when you were constantly preoccupied with complaining customers and terribly awkward blind dates.

You had just sat this man, incredibly handsome, however it was clear he was on some kind of date. His reservation was for two, and he spent way too much time adjusting his clothes and table setting for him to not be trying to impress someone special. He also brought a gift, which judging by the packaging and shape, seemed to be some kind of wrapped book.

Even though he was 15 minutes early for his own reservation, he still looked really nervous, almost like he already believed she might not show up. You couldn’t help yourself, you had to go talk to him.

“Anyone ever tell you you should model?” you started with.

He looked up “Excuse me?”

“Sorry for being so bold, you just look so familiar,” he weirdly sounded very familiar as well, but you didn’t tell him that. “Are you sure you haven’t modeled? You have excellent bone structure. I bet you could.”

He laughed to himself, “yeah I’m sure.”

“Well your date is very lucky either way. I wish I had a boyfriend as handsome as you. Actually I wish I had a boyfriend period, but that’s a whole other story.”

He chuckled, and although you knew in your heart that you shouldn’t be flirting with him considering he was 15 minutes away from being actively on a date talking to him made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “What happened with your boyfriend? Do I even dare ask?”

“Well I kind of always knew he wasn’t super interested in me, but I really liked him, so I did my best to ignore his wandering eyes,” you sighed. “That didn’t stop him from leaving me for his coworker though.”

“That’s terrible.”

You smirked, “That’s not even the worst part, he broke up with me over a 27 second phone call. He didn’t even let me respond, he just kind of hung up.”

“I’m sorry, no one deserves that. Especially not you. I’ve only been talking to you for a couple minutes and I can tell that.”

“Oh really? What makes you so sure?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.”

You smiled, “Well I should probably stop flirting with you now, considering your date hasn’t even started yet. And don’t worry, she’ll show, you’re so handsome she’d be stupid not to.”

He looked confused. “You were flirting with me?”

You laughed, “I thought you were good at reading people?”

He smiled back at you, and it made your heart soar, this silly, pure goofy smile that made you want to replace his date and have dinner with him right then and there.

You walked back to your hostess stand. A couple minutes later you noticed the handsome stranger on the phone. You thought nothing of it until later when a woman came in, clearly nervous, holding a gift bag.

“Can you give this to Spencer Reid for me please?” You recognized the name, the man you were just speaking with had filed his reservation under it.

“Um, yeah sure, aren’t you going to go in? He’s at that table over the-” but before you could finish your sentence the woman was gone. Your heart sank, poor Spencer, how could someone drop their date off a gift but stand them up anyway? That’s just cold.

When you get up to bring the gift to him, he’s already heading out of the restaurant himself.

“Sir? Spencer? Dr. Reid?” he turned his head. “A lady came in and dropped this off for you.”

His face dropped, it almost looked like he was about to cry. “Thank you,” he said as he looked up at you before leaving.

He ran out the door, both gifts in hand and whipped his head around a few times before sighing and speeding off in one direction. Even before you learned what happened after that and leading up to it, you felt terrible for the handsome stranger.

How could you not for someone so clearly distressed? Someone so clearly in love?

➽───────────────❥

7 years and a divorce later you were spending your Saturday in a park, strangely contemplating love itself. Although you barely remember that night all those years ago when you spoke to Spencer, he did. Vividly. In fact, on this Saturday you both were in a public park, contemplating your many failed attempts at true love.

It was your first wedding anniversary without your husband. Although you had only been married for two years, you still were having a hard time navigating life without him. 

You started to wonder if you would ever find the true love you had been wishing for since your youth. Was 32 too late? Had you lived out all of your opportunities?

When you were little your mother had told you that all soulmates were attached at the left ring fingers, by small, incredibly thin strands of gold string, invisible to the naked eye. She insisted that these strings were constantly trying to pull you and your soulmate together, and that when life was ready for you two to meet, you would. 

Until then, you would have small, mindless interactions. Things you wouldn’t think about, maybe even things that weren’t interactions at all. You would get the same commercial jingle stuck in your head. You would both get an intense craving for the same food. You’d have the same dream. 

As a kid you were obsessed with this idea, you thought it was so romantic, and you fully believed everything your mom told you about it. You always asked her for more stories, and at bedtime you refused to sleep unless she would tell you more.

But now you were sure soulmates, true love even, didn’t exist. The invisible pretty gold strings your mother weaved fantastic stories with were completely fabricated. If they weren’t, you would have seen the clues by now.

Right?

➽───────────────❥

Spencer Reid was given an assignment from his therapist. He had to spend his Saturday off trying to interact with a stranger. Making friends with someone other than his colleagues may seem like a simple task for some, but it was something the young genius had almost no experience with.

He understood that it was probably for the best. He wasn’t exactly great with relationships of any kind, but especially not romantic ones. It didn’t take a genius to know that a couple of flirtations, a dead girlfriend he had only seen once, and a long time unrequited (or at least he thought unrequited) infatuation with his best friend and godsons’ mother was not a very great track record.

He, just like you, was also beginning to believe that he was hopeless when it came to love. That 38 was too old, that his time to meet someone and have the children he dreamed of had long passed.

But right as he was about to call JJ, to see if she would invite him in on the case Garcia had started to work on, he saw you.

Unlike you, he remembered your face and your interaction vividly. That almost date with Maeve was one of the biggest defining moments of his life, and what are the chances that the waitress from that very night was now less than 30 feet away from him, reading under the green leaves of a tree.

He wasn’t going to say anything, until he saw the book you were reading.

The Narrative of John Smith.

It must have been a sign, for what he wasn’t exactly sure yet, but it just had to mean something. The universe had to be reaching out to him, he had experienced crazier things.

And just as he was about to walk over to you, to close the gap between the gold strings tied around your ring fingers, a child interrupted his train of thought.

“That’s a strange haircut.”

➽───────────────❥

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were finally reuniting after many years. They barely got to see each other these days, but even though he was teaching and working at the BAU, Spencer still was willing to clear his schedule to second Derek suggested they meet up.

Morgan was excited as well, both to see his friend and to hopefully help him get a date. Sure, he had liked what he had heard about Max, but he wasn’t exactly surprised it had only lasted a couple months between her and Spencer. They just seemed too different.

Plus, now he got the chance to play wingman again, and he was ecstatic about that. Spencer not so much.

“I don’t know Morgan, it’s only been a couple months since we broke up. Wouldn’t it be too early to start talking to other people?”

“Pretty boy, you and I both know that the rate in which you’ve had relationships is not even close to the average. You need to balance that out somehow.”

Spencer sighed, he knew Derek was right, but he still felt strange.

“Morgan, have you ever heard of the red string of fate?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m about to hear all about it.”

“It’s an East Asian philosophy, based on the discovery that the ulnar artery connects the heart with the pinky finger, actually that’s where the belief in pinky promises come from. The reason it’s integrated in so many different cultures is that-”

“Kid, you’re losing me here,” Morgan interrupted. “Finish your thing about the string.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s the idea that human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break. Essentially, the idea is that although we might not realize it, our lives move in a pre-ordained direction, guided by invisible strings that are woven into the fabric of the Universe itself. And all the while, the red thread connecting us to our distant soulmates is getting shorter.”

“Well it’s an interesting theory kid, but it’s a lot to think about. I mean, we’re in a bar, let loose a little bit. Not every interaction has to be about getting closer to your soulmate. And sure, maybe you’ll meet them one day, maybe even soon. But you’re here now, and just because your one true love may not be, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it to be here.”

Spencer sighed, “You’re right. I don’t even know if I believe in that anyway, maybe I’m just looking for something to explain this all.

Derek patted his friend on the shoulder, “okay pretty ricky, this is how it’s about to go down. I’m going to buy you two drinks. You’re going to take both of them, and go find someone, anyone here to go talk to.”

“Ok, I think I can do that. Who?”

Derek looked around, trying to find who he believed would be the best match for his friend. “How about her?” he asked, pointing at you.

Spencer couldn’t believe it when he looked. There you were, the girl, the one he had met three times before, even if he could only remember two. The woman he knew was some sort of universe sent sign that Saturday he saw you underneath the greenery. The girl he was so close to talking to before he was interrupted by Max’s nephew. The woman who (and he obviously did not know this at the time) he would marry 3 years later. The one who would carefully knit the baby blankets for all of their friends and exes. The one who he would adopt 3 children with. The woman who, he was now sure, was at the other end of his invisible string. The girl he needed to talk to right now.

“Is it just me,” Morgan said, “Or does she look kind of familiar?”

“Yes,” Spencer responded, “yes she does.” He got up quickly and started making strides towards you.

“Wait!” Morgan called, “You forgot your drinks!”

“I don’t need them!” he shouted back. When he sat down next to you, you smiled. It made his heart soar, you had this silly, pure goofy smile that made him want to ask you out right then and there.

Instead he settled on the only conversation starter he could think of.

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string story?”

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

[jmoriarty-221b]

So I saw somewhere a post that talked about how some fictional characters just have a divorce vibe going on, like, at no point in time were they ever married but they just give off that feeling that they got divorced

And now I can only think of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor having that vibe

And I spent close to an hour talking about this to my sibling and how it would be a good idea for a new DC show like, you can make so much money off of just the main Batfam alone and there are literally so many people in there that it’s just an amazing idea to have them all in a show together but kind of like a Good Luck Charlie kinda thing because there’s more than enough angst in the world

But in the case of not having enough of a budget for so many characters in one show I turned to the Superfam (Batfam is Huge like, I don’t even know half of the extended family version and that’s like at least ten characters so I could see why it wouldn’t be entirely feasible to have a show that included everyone while still being good with nice character development without having a billion dollars for the budget)

The Superfam, in my personal experience, is composed of Ma & Pa Kent (farm vibes plus I refuse to have either of them die in my AU), Clark Kent (main Superman), Lois Lane (Lana? was Smallville Lois i guess??? But idk enough about her so she’s not here), Jon Kent (Superboi II), Kara Danvers (Supergirl) & Conner Kent (Superboi I)

Now I’ve stopped watching CW shows like, forever ago??? But my brother kinda keeps up with them and basically the gist is that the ratings of every other show suck Except for the Superman & Lois show (because it’s 💫new💫) and I saw the cover of the poster like “Ah, the werewolf dude. . . mmmhhmmm that’s Lois yes, yes that’s Johnny boi, and um is that???? Nooooo, they wouldn’t do that to Conner right???? Please tell me they didn’t make Conner blonde” and I was informed that the blonde teen is Chris???? Like

Whoms’t do ye speak of

I’m not even joking but the only way I even know of Chris is from a random fanfic I read where Dick Grayson gets his own super from an alternate reality named Chris, that’s my only point of reference for this character

But let’s talk about how Conner Kent (OG Superboi) was excluded

Now I haven’t seen any episodes of this and I probably never will (no hate I’m just really unmotivated to start new shows at all) so idk if they might mention Conner or even allude to him in one scene or something

But this was my main motivator as to my new Superfam TV Show Idea

Have Lex Luthor not be a Superman villain, he’s mainly a successful businessman, a little shady but who isn’t, and he doesn’t want to Kill Superman, he just wants to be able to have some sort of viable protection against a Kryptonian in case of an invasion (see Man of Steel + CW’s Supergirl) or suddenly having a mind controlled Superman on their hands (see Justice League series or just look up what Red Krytonite does) so he makes it like his side thing to figure out ways to neutralize or hold back a Kryptonian, Clark totally thinks that Lex is obsessed with finding a way to kill Superman because they had a bad end to their friendship in high school so he’s always suspicious of Lex, Lex hasn’t really ever tried to kill him though because 1. It’s not that deep Clark ok? And 2. He’s a busy busy man with a very important job position and a company to run so does he look like he has time to harbor an obsession over someone who rejected him back in high school??? You’re more of a constant side quest Clark, so stop trying to put him on the JL watchlist ( btw ik about Lena Luthor, haven’t forgotten her but she doesn’t really play a part in this AU so let’s just have her and Kara off to the side doing their own thing ok? Ok)

Lex, Bruce & Oliver all knew each other when they were kids and went to the same school, this is just an extra detail I wanted to happen because Lex and Ollie definitely know Bruce is Batman and absolutely HATE having to deal with Brucie Wayne because “I know you’re just doing this to irritate me Bruce, you just want to see if you can make a vein throb in my forehead but I will valiantly ignore your dumbassery because I know you hate being Brucie just as much as we hate having to put up with Brucie so suck on that you petty bitch” because they bonded in ye olden days, childhood friends so to speak

Anyway so Cadmus tries to get Lex to make an investment in their company, seeing as Cadmus is shadier than Gotham when it rains Lex is basically like ‘no ❤️’ and doesn’t make a deal with them, Cadmus gets mad at not having Lexcorp financially backing them so Lex has an ‘accident’ and they steal his DNA, then they steal Superman’s DNA somehow and *boom* a Superboi is formed

Because I don’t know much about how the Core Four became friends in the first place (Robin Tim Drake, Impulse Bart Allen, Wonder Girl Cassie Sandsmark & Superboy Conner Kent) I’m just gonna go with what happens in the show Young Justice except it’s the Core Four becoming the Core Four when they liberated Conner (who at this point believes himself to be a clone of Superman and has only been given Superboy as a name) from Cadmus, same shit goes down meaning that Clark is just straight up NOT vibing with Conner, Conner just wants a mentor please, and the Bats kinda give Clark a passive aggressive treatment for not taking Superboy under his wing or at least agreeing to teach him how to control his powers, especially Tim because that’s his Bestie so yes

Anyway, YJ saves ppl and is on the news or whatever and Lex finds out about Superboy’s existence that way, so he researches this new super on his free time, finds out that he came from Cadmus and claims to be a clone of Superman, yet doesn’t have the whole power set Superman has??? Wait, didn’t Lex reject Cadmus’ proposal and the got into a mysterious accident??? Long story short Lex goes connecting the dots, hacks into Cadmus’ files, finds out he technically has a son with Superman and decides to take Superboy under his wing (I’ll go more in depth as to why Lex would want to do this in this AU later but the abridged version would be that he wants a kid but doesn’t have the time nor interest in finding a wife??? Also the radiation that made him bald as a kid also affected his reproductive system so while it’s not impossible for him to conceive kids he would have a very hard time actually getting to father a kid)

Him and Conner, who still goes by Superboy at this point in time, meet up and Conner finds out that here is a parent figure that is both available and actively wants to be a part of his life, so he agrees to get to know Lex and the series would focus on them becoming a family, with a special episode when Conner asks Lex for help in choosing a name for himself and it ends up with him agreeing to become Conner Luthor, it would be heartwarming and Mercy would make sure it happens within a day (Mercy is Lex’s bodyguard/PA but they’re also besties and she becomes the Responsible yet Chaotic Aunt as Lex and Conner’s father-son relationship progresses)

Obviously Clark becomes super suspicious of Lex getting close to his ‘clone’ and when Conner decides to go public as Lex’s son he’s like *GASP* and calls up Bruce because we need to get on this Bruce, Lex is a villain and blah blah blah but Bruce would be over Clark’s shit and hit him with that “actually, Lex was also an unwilling genetic donor to Superboy, who actually is not your clone either, and has agreed to take him in, I’ve been on this shit since they first met and the kid is doing just fine so if you keep poking your nose in their business then that’s your problem but you better be ready to pay child support bitch . . . have a good day ❤️”

The series would just focus on Conner getting to have a good parent figure in Lex and go more into their civilian lives rather than focusing on the superhero thing, Conner, Bart, Tim & Cassie have a sleepover at Lex’s house at one point, Lex totally Knows what’s up but it’s all good because these are his baby’s friends and they’re good people who are more than willing to prank Superman for rejecting his kid and giving his baby self worth issues (Mercy supports them)

Anyway, that’s basically the idea for a new Superhero Show

[jojoboisimagines]

Snippets Ch.4 : Johnny and Josuke (4) with the Same Crush (3)

Previous Chapter

A set of multiple drabbles/oneshots combining characters (i.e Jojos) from multiple parts and AUs.

.::.

"That guy...do you think--" Josuke started.

"That's their boyfriend? No idea." Johnny quickly answered, trying to play it off as if he didn't care.

It was quite the opposite. He may have cared too much.

To say Johnny was jealous was an understatement. But it seemed like Josuke was feeling some of the heat too, seeing you hanging out with some guy and proceeding to talk about him with Josuke when the two of you went to lunch the other day.

Josuke was still in the dark about Johnny’s own crush on you, which was a relief for the jockey, but it was hell for him, having to be afraid of either guy winning you over first.

He just needed to muster up the courage to talk to you again, but it was a lot more difficult than he thought it’d be. You two always seemed to be busy when the other wasn’t. Of course he still had Gyro (and occasionally Josuke and Hot Pants) to keep him company, but he missed you.

The little spat the cousins had was forgotten for a while. They didn’t exactly apologize to each other, but just starting to talk normally again was enough sign there was no hard feelings. The younger teen was still very confused about Johnny’s intentions that day.

‘ Was he trying to be a good role model or was he just mad I was leaving him at home?’ he thought. It didn’t really matter to him anymore, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned about what Johnny must’ve been thinking, and if he still did feel that way.

They sat at a small table on the far side of the kitchen. Josuke, looking rather bored, held his head on his palm, while Johnny was playing on their shared Switch. Or at least, was pretending to be after Josuke brought up the subject.

“Hey, can I ask you an honest question?” The Japanese teen breaks the icy silence once again.

Johnny merely raises an eyebrow with a low ‘hm’ that was barely audible. His heart silently raced thinking of what the boy sitting across from him had on his mind to ask.

“(y/n)...how long have you known them?” 

A simple enough question to start off with, Josuke thought. Yet Johnny’s lips still pursed.

“Uh...about half a year now. We got really close in that time I’d say.” That last part wasn’t even to get a rise out of Josuke, he just genuinely thought so. He really cared about you, romantically or not.

Meanwhile, Josuke had only known you for the duration of the summer, which was about to end in a couple of weeks. Perhaps if he’d beg Johnny to let him stay he’d have more time to bond with you, but there was also the issue of him feeling homesick from time to time.

God, if he could take you back to Morioh with him..it’d be like a dream come true.

They both had quickly forgotten about whatever guy Josuke was referring to earlier, mixed up in their own thoughts about their relationship with you. Besides, he had only ever seen the guy once, there was no way you’d switch up on him that quickly.

He had no dates or anything planned with you like he usually does, though. Not that he didn’t want to spend time with you, he just felt as if he was coming off as a little...clingy.

Higashikata had been trying to drop hints that he liked you, such as buying you things, having heart-to-heart conversations as he’d walk you home, calling you pet names, and ending his goodnight texts with a little heart emoji. He considered himself a romantic, but when it came to your reactions, you kinda brushed them off platonically. Perhaps you’d never been flirted with before?

His texts were still frequent, making sure you were having a good day and all, but he figured maybe he should start being a little more risky..

“What do you like about (y/n) anyways?” Johnny asked.

There was a pause for a couple of seconds, before Josuke scooted back in his chair and got up from the table, intending to retreat to his room for a couple of hours.

“The same things you do, probably.”

.::.

“Ow! Gyro, what the hell was that for?!”

“Because, idiota, you need to confess already.” He hovers over Johnny like a judgmental parent.

Josuke had left the house to get some groceries, and in that time, the jockey called Gyro over. Not for advice specifically, but that's what it had eventually turned into. Sitting on the floor of Johnny’s room (where it was painfully easy to find porn magazines, Gyro won’t let that go as long as the two of them live).

“Like seriously, this is getting embarrassing to watch, just do it already.” The Italian pointed a finger at his friend. “Sooner or later you’re gonna do the thing where you get the girl drunk and then sleep with her regardless of feelings.”

“Ugh, I’m not like that anymore Gyro!” Johnny folds his arms with a pout his friend knows all too well at this point. “I’ve never committed to anyone before, so of course this is a little more awkward for me than it is for anyone else, you know this!” 

Indeed he did know. It was somehow one of the things they always ended up talking about.

“Listen, I know how this is gonna end. Its gonna end with you in this same room, bunched up in several blankets, listening to Fleetwood Mac on repeat with 3 pizza boxes to make yourself feel better.”

The American scoffs.

Gyro sits upright on his bed. “I’m right. Look, this gal means a lot to you, I know. I’ve seen it. You’ve never stared at someone with such a…not hateful look in your eye.” It was half a joke, half truth. “And I don't wanna see you sad, so you’re just gonna have to pull yourself up, grow some steel balls, and ask them out. For real. For both of our sakes at this point.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Wow, Gyro wants me to be with a girl? Pigs must be flying.”

“You are so not funny.” The Italian’s teeth flashes for a moment as he scowls.

“Alright, since you’re such a casanova, why don’t you tell me what to say to them?” At this rate, there was really no other choice for Joestar to take. He could ask Hot Pants, but knew she would give him similar advice.

“Nyo-ho! I’ll show ya! All you gotta do is gimme your phone.”

As soon as the word ‘gimme’ was uttered, the jockey clutched his phone as if it was a baby. The last few times he lended his friend his phone, it didn’t go so well.

Gyro would’ve snorted if he wasn’t serious about this.

“Come onnn! It--”

“Won’t go like the last three times, right? Fat chance.”

“Just hurry and hand it over before I tackle you!”

The larger man did that far too much already, much to Johnny’s dismay. Once Gyro had him in a headlock, there was no getting out of it. He defeatedly raised his phone up to the man for him to take.

“If you ruin anything, I’m doing the same thing to you, AND taking your damn horse.” The Italian waved him off as if he was merely an angry toddler. As he typed, Johnny tried to peer over and see, but his friend was too adamant on turning side to side so he couldn’t. The expressions Gyro was making wasn’t a good sign either. First confused, then mischievous, then looking a little too proud of himself. The jockey’s hands could start sweating at any moment from the sheer anxiety this was giving him.

“Aaaaaand done! There we go, all set!”

Johnny reached for his phone as soon as the words left his mouth, unapologetically in a snatching manner to immediately read the text sent.

::‘Hey This is Johnny darling. Hope your day has been as beautiful as your smile. I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow by 12pm. I have something very important to tell you. See you soon xoxo.’::

Alright, so it wasn’t as bad as he thought itd be (not nearly as bad as the time Gyro dared him to send a ‘send nudes’ text to you) but god, it would look suspiciously out of character for you to see. He can’t even remember the last time he typed ‘darling’ instead of ‘darlin’ and actually bothered to punctuate his texts. And who even used ‘xoxo’ anymore?

His friend looked at him with a big grin, waiting for his reaction. A slightly more pure smile than if he were waiting for Johnny to get a joke.

“Soooo what do you think? You gotta pick some nice clothes out for your date.”

The shorter man sighs.

“Its...passable.”

.::.

 Josuke got home a little later than he expected. He was surprised to see there was still Prince CDs in stock at the store. Thats one of the perks of coming to America, he guessed. He was more than ready to put them into one of Johnny’s old CD players he had found. It was already hard for him to listen to pretty much anything without thinking of you. At least if it was Prince specifically, it would help him feel better and he could jam out to it.

Finally finding the track he wanted, he grinned, letting the music play out loud and hopping on his bed. It was a good few minutes before he had started getting that feeling in his gut again.

..Crap, this wasn’t helping either.

The teen felt that he couldn’t endure this much longer. Love was something he took very seriously and to be so unsure about your relationship just made him feel funny. He had to at least know for sure if the both of you were on the same page. Josuke was sick of being so anxious about it.

Josuke laid down flat on his back, pulling his phone out.

“You know what? I’m gonna ask them out.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

If I bounce my foot, it makes this chair sound like someone is doing unspeakable things. Also, it has been a hot minute, but I have a chapter written now, and that's what matters. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than later.

Chapter 16

You are going to kill him.

“That is absolute fucking horseshit!” You pace back and forth in front of the restaurant. “His ass was the one who invited me!”

You can practically hear his eyes rolling on the other end of the line. “How is it my problem if he flaked?”

“You’re guilty by association!” You cross your arms. “It’s a favor to you! How is it not at least partially your fault?”

“Because he said he’d be there.”

You hang up on him. You have been standing here for half an hour, and only now do you hear that he can’t be there because of something about a movie. While, under different circumstances, you would be relatively understanding, standing outside in a dress in November is making you a bit less amiable.

You sit down on the step, letting your hair down and leaning forward on your knees. ‘What a waste of a perfectly good twilight.’

You pull out your phone. It’s your father’s birthday back home, ironically enough. You smile bitterly. He and your mother told you when you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to date until you were eighteen— something about them being worried about you getting in a bad situation— and here you were, flouting their rules, sitting alone on the steps of a restaurant with just enough money for food. ‘Does this count as disrespectful?’

Nobody online has said anything about it. No messages hoping he rests in peace, nothing from extended family.

You set the phone down at your side, quietly watching people walk by. You had your cast taken off today. The people at the hospital gave you some sort of weird juice, and now you can walk around with only the occasional ringing in your ears and half-decent handwriting. ‘Not that my handwriting was that great before,’ you muse. ‘Maybe I’ll finally be able to sit in a car without wanting to jump out.’

“Something got you down?”

There is a thing you have noticed about people’s voices thus far that, until now, you have not thought about in detail; people do not sound exactly like their voice actors back in your world. For example, Donatello does not sound like Rob Paulsen, but the way he shapes his words, the tone of his voice, and the general pitch is relatively similar. He sounds like a teenage boy who happens to talk like his character, and it is by this you have been able to identify voices.

Oddly enough, she sounds nothing like Kelly Hi.

Your blood goes cold. “Yeah,” you sigh, desperately keeping your voice steady. “My date bailed on me.”

Karai sits down next to you on the steps, looking out with you. “That sucks.” She chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“No clue.” ‘Why is she trying this?’ You rest your head on your knees, hands clenching and thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘I’m not made by the Kraang, and the guys shouldn’t have messed with her anyways, so she shouldn’t have my— but I did kill— but she doesn’t care about that, and neither does Shredder.’

“Well,” she sighed, “that’s teenagers for you.” She points back at the restaurant. “Can I get you something? My treat.”

You swallow thickly. “Sure.” Your hands are shaking despite your best efforts. You hope you do not look as completely terrified as you feel. “But I can pay for my own food.”

“Are you alright there?”

‘Sadist.’ You nod.

“Are you sure?” She chuckles. “You’ve gone pale.”

You scramble for a plausible excuse. “I’ve been fasting.” That is not a good example of an excuse. “I need to start getting more iron in my diet.”

“I’m sure some food inside will have iron in it.” The smile on her face— she is not a good liar herself— tells you all you need to know, all venom and quiet pleasure. You seem to shrink next to her.

It is not a request. It is a veiled demand.

You get to your feet. You will not make it far if you run. “Have you been here before?” You force yourself up the steps, opening the door for her.

“No,” she admits, nodding thanks, “but it’s supposed to have good reviews.”

“So you were here for the food?”

A shrug. “You could say that.”

The two of you settled in a booth not terribly far from the door, on your insistence. If you are putting yourself in this situation— ‘At least Casey knows where I am. Why did he have to suggest someplace where I know nobody?’— you may as well not make it easy for her. She orders a milkshake— you can not hear her very well over the roaring in your ears, but that is what she gets— and you drink water exclusively from the straw because your hands are currently incapable of holding anything. ‘What was even the point of all those dexterity-based exercises,’ you cannot help but internally whine, ‘if as soon as I need to be coordinated, I get all flinchy and shaky?’

“I didn’t catch your name.”

Your head rises too quickly. “Huh?”

Another smile. You hate her. “Your name,” she repeats herself. “You haven’t given me your name.”

“Y/N.” As soon as you say it, you know you messed up. “Y/N Collins.”

“Collins?” She leaned against her hand, quietly staring you down. “What is that?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, what country is that from?”

‘Great question.’ You strain to smile back. “No clue. My parents haven’t ever brought it up.”

“Really?”

Your face burns at how easy the clinking of her fingernails against the glass puts you on edge. “Is that unusual?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She took a sip from her drink. “I don’t have many friends, you understand, and I’m from overseas to boot. I don’t know much about what’s normal.”

“Yeah?” You follow her example. “What’re you here for?”

A shrug. “My father’s here on business. Cutlery.”

“For restaurants or?”

“Sure.”

‘If I call Casey, he— but then I’d have to be in his van.’ You clear your throat. ‘Bathroom. Maybe the bathroom has a window.’ “Do you mind if I step out for a sec?” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

“Not at all.” She looks up at you through her eyelashes. “Want me to come with?”

You shake your head, trying not to trip over yourself as you make it to the back of the restaurant, purse over your shoulder. ‘Maybe she won’t think anything of it.’ You lock the door behind you, exhaling as you look around the small room. As is typical of your luck these days— though, you suppose, fighting back tears, it’s not so much these days if it’s been going on for months; you miss your mother— there is none. Graffiti, sharpie illustrations, no toilet paper, and no window. No plan for if the date went badly in the first place— you kick yourself for having forgotten that essential step— and no ride home. You have money for the ticket home— he said he would pay— and a phone and a charger and it is at times like these where you wish you valued your life more. The only chance you now have, as far as you’re concerned, is to either run or fake a phone call at the table.

You just got out of a cast.

You take a deep breath, walking back onto the floor, thanking her for her patience. She nods, waves it off as no trouble, and starts talking again as she drains her drink. You listen, you try to keep the conversation going the best you can, drink right alongside her.

You do not remember when you start having fun, when you start laughing along with her at something or other, but you are now.

“So,” she sighed, lacing her fingers together under her chin. “Who was the lucky guy?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The guys you were here to meet.”

“Kid from Bio,” you answer. “Can’t remember his name.”

She nods. “Do you have many guy friends?”

“A couple, I guess.”

“What’re they like?”

“Busy.” You smile slightly. “Most of them are, anyway. The guy that set me up is free most of the time.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re into martial arts.” You glance down at your glass, and for a moment, you swear it looks slightly blue. “Their dad’s into it.”

“What’re their names?”

You blink, picking the glass up and placing it on top of your hand. “Reese and Donnie and Legoshi and the other one.” ‘Why is my drink blue?’

“The other one?”

You nod, eyes drooping slightly as you struggle to rationalize the color change. “Can’t remember his name.”

“Michelangelo, maybe?”

“Maybe.” You take another sip, trying to taste what it is. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t remember from what.” Something with salt.

“You said your name was Y/N?”

You nod again. ‘Water isn’t blue, right?’

“Then, Y/N,” she smiles again, eyes slowly drilling holes into your skull, “do you know who I am?”

“Legoshi’s sis, right?” You look up at her. “You’re Karai Hamato.”

Your eyes are too blurry to tell exactly what is happening with her face. “What?”

“Your name.” You take another sip. “Karai Hamato. Or Missy. It’s one of the two.”

“I’m not a Hamato.”

“Yeah, you are.” You giggle before the words slip out of your mouth. “You’re fucking— well, not fucking— you let stepbrother, right? Half brother?” You are forgetting something important. “Are you two blood-related?”

“We aren’t.”

“You sound angry.”

A blink. “I do not.”

“Do too.” ‘I don’t like her for some reason.’ “You’re getting all red in the face.”

“Because you’re accusing me of something I’m not.”

“Fuckin…” you grin. “If you’re into that shit, I’m not gonna fuckin judge you or nothin, but at least fuckin… uh… own up to it.” Your eyes drag across the table lazily.

“I’m no Hamato.”

“You are too.”

They land on a plastic bag.

‘Oh. That’s why.’

“Who told you I was?”

“Your stepdad.” You get to your feet, holding your bag. “Or dad, I guess? I dunno, whichever one didn’t kill your mom.”

There’s something else in her voice as she gets up, following you out. “How do you know that?”

“I just said how.” The cold air outside hits you like a brick. ‘Run.’

“So you know where—“ You shove your weight back on her, slamming her body and in turn her into the brick wall and run.

She grabs your something. You fall, head slamming painfully against the ground. You kick her, she grabs your hair. In what you might later describe as a drunken effort, you reach your hands up towards her face. You feel something squishy, a cry, and she’s facing you now, dragging you into somewhere considerably darker than outside at night. You feel something in the back of your head, she covers your mouth as you cry out, and you do the only thing you can think of.

You taste something again. Something is in your mouth. She stumbles back. You trip up to your feet, and you fall in the direction of the nearest subway tunnel.

The things happening around that time are swirling around in your head, now, face held in your hands as you quietly curl up on the subway. You do not remember entering a train car, or buying a ticket, or even what happened to the object in your mouth, but the crying you remember. You remember someone touching your shoulder with a soft voice, looking up with your mouth covered in sticky, dried stuff and fingers covered in red and clear goo, and that being enough to have them get off at the next stop.

You do not know how long you are on the train. When you finally feel yourself again, your phone is almost dead. Hours must have passed. You do not remember leaving, but you remember the ringing in your ears again as you dial someone, sitting on the sidewalk in what used to be the only dress you owned. You are reasonably sure you are going to burn it.

—

“Is this okay?”

“What?”

“This.” Mikey gestures around himself. “What we’re doing.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’re people, right?” He looks over at his brother, currently skimming the same magazine again. “The Kraang, I mean.”

It takes a second for him to process the question, but Donnie does not have to look up from his sewing to know his brother’s reaction.

“It’s just a question.”

“A fuckin— do you hear yourself?”

“I’m just—“

“Leo,” he turns to his older brother, “is killing the threat to all of humanity wrong?”

“But we just blew up a giant ship of them though.” He crisscrosses his legs. “Aren't we killing a ton of people, then?”

“Mikey,” Leo sighs, not looking up from the TV, “there are more people in New York than there are Kraang that we could ever kill.”

“Eight million.” He sincerely hopes the gloves are not too large. “For number's sake, it’s eight million.”

Leo shoots his brother a thumbs up, glancing over at his brother’s project curiously. “Thanks, Donnie.”

“Even if we were actively going on a killing spree and mowing them down that way, there is no way in hell any of us could kill two million Kraang per person even if we wanted to. That’s not even talking about the number of people who would be fucked once they were done with New York.” Raphael punctuates this with a pointed and aggressive flip to the next page. “End of story.”

“But—“

“And even if they stopped at New York,” he continues, cutting him off, “that would still be eight million people dead because of us getting cold feet.”

Mikey opens his mouth again, sighs, and closes it. “Fine, okay.” He leans back against the concrete, eyes going back to his phone. “Anyways, why do you keep getting water on your thing?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean the gloves.” His taller brother looks up. “It’s easier to get the needle through it when it’s warm and wet. Plus, it makes the— stop laughing!”

“Then you thought it too.”

Heat rushes to his face. “You’re so immature.”

“But you thought it too. That's hypothetical.”

“You mean hypocritical.”

“I said what I said.”

Michelangelo’s phone rings.

He puts a finger, bringing it to his face. “Hel— hey, slow down.” His brow furrowed, the other three leaning towards him. “No, wait, what— who’s she?”

There’s a pause.

“She did— wait, hold on.” He tosses the phone to Donatello. “It’s for you.”

He catches it. “Hello?”

“Could you pick me up?”

He blinks. “What, with the Shellraiser?”

Your voice is paper. “Yup.”

“You hate the Shellraiser.”

“She wants to go in the Shellraiser?”

Donatello waves his younger brother off, letting you talk. “I hate Karai more, currently. Please pick me up.”

Leo pipes up. “What happened?”

He ignores him. “Where are you?”

There is a pause as she checks, his brothers watching for his reactions. “One-oh-three Saint Corona Plaza.”

“Got it.”

“What happened?” Raphael, this time.

“Need me to stay on the line?” With a pointed glare at his siblings, he climbs into the ‘raiser.

“Please.”

He calls behind him at his brothers. “I’ll be back before two.” The phone is brought back up to his face as they moan about a lack of info. The machine is spurred into motion. “What are you doing in Queens so late?”

“No idea.” He can hear your strained smile. “Ask Karai.”

His heart stops. “What happened with Karai?”

You repeat your statement.

“She didn’t—“

You cut him off. “I’m not back in the hospital, no.”

He resists the urge to sigh in relief. “Did she follow you?”

“I’ve yet to be hit over the head, so I’ll hasten to say no.” There is something off about your voice, a certain quality about it that he cannot quite pin down. “I’ve been essentially useless the whole time, what with her drugging me and all.”

“She what?”

“I think she did, anyway.” It is incredibly disturbing to him how calm you sound. “Unless water’s blue and kinda tastes salty now. I don’t imagine it would be though,” you ponder, chilling years off of his life, “even if you guys messed up the mission. It would be green, since that’s the color of the acid, right?”

He mumbles something out about indicators, head reeling as he tries to not hit a street lamp.

“That’s what I thought.” You sigh. “Say, have you got any hydrogen peroxide at your place? No, wait, scratch that, I’m burning the dress anyways.”

“Dress?”

“Yeah.” You huff. “Last time I’m letting Jones set me up on a date. Last time I’m going on a date period until all this gets worked out, actually.”

‘It is not okay to feel happy that she had a bad date.’ Still, he tries to steer the conversation away from the horrifying for a minute. “What happened?”

“I got stood up.”

“Why?”

“I forget. Where are you?”

He glances up at the street sign. “Still pretty far.”

A pause.

“You know,” you swallow, “I should really stop doing this. It’s not exactly great of me to have to ask for your help all the time.”

“None of us mind.”

“That’s not the point.” He hears a car on your end whizz by. “I should be able to go a week without making you go out of your way for me. You guys manage.”

“We’ve also been training in ninjutsu since we could walk.”

Tired, he decided. You sound tired. “Other normal people manage.”

“You’re not a normal person, though.”

“Sure I am.” Your words sound slow to him. “I keep interesting company is all.”

“That’s a word for it.”

“What, don’t count yourself as interesting?”

He turns a corner. “Not the first word I’d use, no.”

Another long silence. Occasionally, he notes, you will him something into the phone, say a quiet, unintelligible word of phrase he cannot quite make out, presumably in an effort to continue looking like you are on the phone to passers by. The streets, like most nights nowadays, are mostly empty, save for the occasional cop car or kid, making the commute a relatively uneventful one. It gives him time to think, anyways, and after a while of quiet contemplation and forced slow breaths so he did not look quite as panicked as he felt once he picked you up, a question quietly surfaces.

He would have come in a heartbeat. He was not exactly sure what he would have done, but he would have come running, regardless of if he could help. Why would you not call? Why would you try and deal with that sort of situation alone? Did you not trust he would come?

His fingers tighten around the wheel. What had you been thinking going out alone, anyway? After all that was happening, you thought it was a good idea to go on a date without a plan for if it went south?

Another sharp turn. If nothing else, he thinks, he can not say you are no longer naive or lacking in innocence. Maybe you are just incredibly prideful. Regardless, it will get you in more trouble than you had to be in.

What would he do if you got yourself irreparably damaged?

—

You are not having a good time.

You have managed to convince yourself that this is not, in fact, anything like the car. For starters, it is less aerodynamic; it is a metal box on wheels, designed for subway travel and is, therefore, not designed for optimum wind resistance, meaning it cannot go as fast with the same amount of energy. The inside of the vehicle is also distinctly dissimilar to a car, its origins blatantly obvious, and was entirely lacking in windows. While this is enough to convince you currently that climbing into the machine is not as serious a death sentence, the fact of the matter is that, yes, it is a metal monster on four wheels that drives on roads. If you keep your eyes shut, maybe you will not vomit as soon as you stumble out of the door.

Your stomach hurts. A lot of your body hurts, actually. You do not remember the “fight” with much clarity, but you do understand your head hurrying. You have yet to get a good look at yourself, but if you had to guess by the stains on your fingers that you can now identify as blood, the bad taste in your mouth that you are fairly sure is vomit and the flaky stuff on your face that also looks suspiciously blood-like, you would hasten to guess the answer is “not great”. You certainly do not feel great, if that is indicative of anything.

He has not said a word so far.

You do not force conversation, now. You would prefer not to talk about the ordeal, anyways.

There are monitors that he is staring at in order to steer. Why he would not just get an actual steering wheel or the old hull of a car from a junkyard is beyond you, though you guess a hippie van would not offer the same armored protection as a subway car.

“We got molested by a sea monster today.”

You look over at him, eyes half lidded. You want to sleep. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are focused on the screens. “Apparently it liked my submarine.”

“That’s… a thing.” You rub your hands on your thighs absentmindedly. “How did that work out?”

“Fine. It wasn’t all that strong.”

Your lips curl up into a weak smile. “That’s good, then. The mission went alright?”

He nods. “Without a hitch, funny enough.”

“That’s cool.”

The conversation dies as quickly as it starts.

The drive from that point on is an uncomfortably quiet one. You pick blood from under your nails, thumbs occasionally tracing the scars on your fingers— you are still not used to the difference in texture— as the hum or an engine rumbles underneath you. You are reminded of a memory from when you were younger, driving down the hallway, basking in the warmth of your own body heat with your arms tucked to your chest from under your top layer. The machine you were in now was colder, staler, but the hum of the engine, the time, all reminded you quietly of simpler times.

You swallow thickly. ‘I’m such a coward.’ You shut your eyes gently, stomach churning. ‘I’m going to get the people I care about hurt, aren’t I?’

Donnie says something.

The Shellraiser is stopped. You look up at him. “Huh?”

When he was younger, he and his brothers did not know the limits of their own strength. When they were first learning to fight, when they were first sent to spar against one another when their sensei was asleep, they would often go a step or three too far. He was never one to get involved— his brothers were stronger, more enthusiastic fighters— but he remembered distinctly what they would look like the morning after a fight, cheeks and eyes various shades of purples and blues and blacks. They would ask him, on occasion, after particularly brutal brawls, for him to paint over whichever brother’s face— usually Raphael or Leo— to hide them from their father. He got used to the sight, got better at understanding their anatomy, which chemicals mixed together would do which things.

He is getting sufficiently tired of seeing you hurt the worst he has ever seen.

You look so small in the seat, face black and blue, hands shaking. Your skin is paler than when you two first met, less healthy, a thin coat of sweat coating your skin and hair stuck to the back of your neck. Your dress— he has never seen you in one— is stained with rust, hidden poorly from under your jacket. He can tell already which bruises will take a while to disperse, where she had busted your nose and slammed your head against something hard. You need a shower and water and a blood test to make sure you do not die from whatever Karai gave you.

He clears his throat again. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“You’re doing me a favor. You have a right.”

He does not look you in the eyes. “It’s just… can I ask a question?”

You sigh. Even your voice sounds tired. “Shoot.”

His fingers trace the rim of the steering wheel. He takes a slow breath. “Why didn’t you call?”

“When she cornered me, you mean?”

A nod.

He glances over at you, staring down at your hands, turning them over. “You were on a mission. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

“I would’ve come, you know.”

“I know.” You smile ruefully. “That’s why I didn’t.”

His fingers grip the wheel again, trying to not openly overreact. “Y/N,” he says carefully, “if a mission fails because we need to come save you from Karai, then we fail the mission.”

“How many people in New York would die if you guys did fail?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is.” You look up at him. “You get yourself in a lot of trouble because of me. You have to make sure I don’t kill myself all the time. Think logically, Donnie.”

He snorts, heart pounding in suppressed, almost overwhelming frustration. “Are you going to say something about thinking logically?”

“Fair point. But you get mine, right?”

“I don’t, actually.” He leans back in his chair, fingers gripping tighter still. “The only reason we’re messing with the Kraang at all, the only reason we started all this, is because I saw you and wanted to help you.” He counts on his fingers. “The only people I really, honestly care about this much are my family and you, and I know that, if I had never met you,” and he looks you dead in the eyes now, “I would just make a filtration system for my family and that would be the end of it.”

Your eyes are still gorgeous. Behind the bruises and the blood, you really are stunning.

“Sure,” he concedes, “maybe Leo would’ve gotten involved because he’s that selfless. I would’ve gone along with it, since he’s my brother and all, but if that were the case…” He takes a slow breath to calm down. He never thought it would come out right now at all times. “If that were the case, I would’ve never tried red velvet cupcakes. Mikey wouldn’t have a friend outside of the family. I never would’ve learned about crime movies, or had talks about science with anyone but myself, or any of the thousand other things you’ve given us.” He does not know exactly when he grabs your hands, but he is now, and you are so warm and alive right now. “I care about you. We care about you. You have to know that. For fuck’s sake,” he laughs, “I’ve told you outright, before!”

You open your mouth to say something. No words come out, for once.

He squeezes your hands. He cannot tell if your heart feels like his does, the straining against his chest, the aching feeling. He was never good at reading people or emotions or any of that.

But it’s time now. He can barely think. If he does not now, he might not ever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 15

Chapter 17

[waveypedia]

Leaving the Nest

Companion piece to The Family We Make (can be read in any order)

Ao3

Granny’s posture is as immaculate as always, but her knuckles grip the pan just a little too tight. To an outsider, she would seem the perfect picture of serenity, but Webby knows the tells that give her away too well.

Of course she does. Granny is Webby’s favorite person in the entire world.

Webby’s family has grown and grown over the last few years, and she wouldn’t trade that for the world. But if it came down to it, Granny is more her family than anyone else. Even the boys. Even Dad.

“Dear, I think we should talk about… the other day,” Granny trails off, awkward and lame. It would be disorienting to see Granny, normally so put-together and articulate, struggling with words. But a couple days ago, Webby saw her chained and captured, crying and beaten, forced to spill her darkest secrets and then knocked out. Manipulated. Nothing Granny does can faze her in quite the same way.

Webby takes a deep breath. “I… I think so too,” she says. “But, honestly, I don’t have anything to say. You’re my Granny.”

Granny’s shoulders slump in relief before she catches herself, her decades of SHUSH training snapping in, and she reorients herself to her ever-present poker face. 

“I’m not, you know,” Granny says quietly, her voice full of shame. Webby stiffens, and glances away before Granny can see the tears pooling in her eyes. “I- I stole you from a SHUSH compound. The photos you have of your parents were a lie. Just another lie among many.”

“I don’t care,” Webby snaps, with more anger in her voice than she intended. But as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes that she truly does feel that anger. Not towards Granny herself, but towards the notion that Granny isn’t her grandmother.

“You’re my grandmother,” Webby declares passionately. “I don’t care if you’re not related to me. I don’t care if I’m a clone of Dad. You stole me from a FOWL compound because you cared about me from the moment we met. You gave up your entire life and a career you’d been working towards for decades for me. You raised me. You locked yourself in the mansion to keep me safe. You’re my grandmother.”

“I’m happy to hear that, dear,” Granny says in the softest of whispers. “More than you could ever know.” Webby thinks she hears Granny’s voice catch, but she can’t be certain. 

“But I lied to you, even after I promised I wouldn’t,” Granny continues, her tone more subdued. She crosses her hands in her lap, making a controlled effort to smooth them out. “You have every right to be angry with me.”

Webby reaches forward and takes her grandmother’s hand in both of hers. “I do,” she agrees. Granny’s head snaps up and she stares at Webby, eyes wide. Webby shrugs nonchalantly, shoulders loose, emulating Louie’s calculated facade of easy calm without realizing it. “But that’s not the kind of person I am, Granny.”

Webby glances away, pursuing her lips. She can’t bear to watch Granny’s face twist in pain. “I… I am frustrated that you lied to me and broke your promise,” she says slowly, haltingly, choosing her words carefully. She’s walking a thin line, basically a tightrope with no net, of expressing her feelings and not upsetting her Granny. “Just don’t do it again, please.”

Granny’s face softens. “Of course, Webby dear. No more secrets.” 

She reaches out to hug Webby, and Webby obliges, but she says stiff. “That’s what you said last time,” Webby mutters into Granny’s shoulder. Her words are almost too soft to be heard, but judging by the way Granny stiffens, she does.

Granny pulls back, her hands still on Webby’s shoulders. She opens her mouth a few times, frantically searching for words, some kind of placating promise that she didn’t already break.

 “You’re right. Of course,” Granny acquiesces at last, hanging her head. Strands of grey hair drip out of her bun by the pull of gravity. Webby swallows thickly, bile pooling in her throat. Granny is reacting perfectly, yet all she does is remind Webby of when they were stuck together in a dark FOWL interrogation room, a wall of pain and deception painfully thick between them.

Webby reaches out a small hand to touch Granny’s shoulder. “Granny, please,” she whispers. She’s not sure if Granny understands the true meaning behind her plea in its entirety, but she pulls herself back together nonetheless. For a few minutes, silence hangs between them. It’s not a comfortable silence, but it’s not stifling, either. It’s just… anticipatory.

“I can’t simply promise that I won’t lie to you anymore,” Granny says at last. Her voice is quiet and subdued, but honest and vulnerable. It’s open in a way Granny rarely is. “But I will do better from now on. I’ll prove my sentiments through actions, not empty promises.”

Webby smiles gratefully. It’s not her usual wide, face-splitting grin, but it’s soft and vulnerable, with layers and meaning behind it. “Thanks. I… I want to know things. About SHUSH. Classified things. The parts of my past you could never tell me, and new information, too.”

Granny’s gaze shoots away. “I-I can’t,” she replies immediately, and Webby’s heart drops. It must show in her face, because Granny’s own twists with guilt. 

“I- Well- I suppose I did just promise to, didn’t I,” Granny says, half to herself, with a small chuckle. There’s little humor behind it, but it’s fond. “I will do my best, Webbigail. But please understand that there is some SHUSH information that is simply beyond my classification to give you.”

“I understand,” Webby says simply. “But the information you can give me… I want to know, Granny.”

Granny’s fists clench and unclench in her lap. Webby knows how uncomfortable and out of her depth she must feel. She protected Webby with her life for years by hiding these secrets, and it takes time to undo such habits. But she’s trying, and that’s all that Webby cares about. 

“Do you remember the day I met the boys?” Webby asks, her voice lighter and more casual than she feels. There’s a pit of fear steadily growing in her stomach, but her voice is blessedly steady. 

Granny’s smile is small but fond. “You snuck out,” she replies, a hint of reproach in her voice, but no malice. It’s a wound long since healed, leaving only a soft scar as a reminder that it existed at all. “You ignored my number one rule and left the mansion for the very first time.”

“Yeah, and it was new and scary,” Webby replies lightly, ignoring the jab. “But you let me go, because you knew it was for the best. Because I was growing up.”

“Because Mr. McDuck could keep you safe,” Granny adds pointedly, but she’s smiling, if a bit pained.

“Yeah, and he did! I’m fine, Granny. Besides, I can keep myself safe.”

“Tell that to the you that landed yourself in FOWL headquarters with all your allies captured and no real clue what was in store for you,” Granny quips. “My worst nightmare, come alive right in front of my eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” Webby mutters, dropping her gaze to her feet. “But hey, if you’d told me the truth, maybe I wouldn’t have been so misinformed.”

Granny dips her head. “You make a good point. I concede that one.”

“Anyway, that’s just what this is like,” Webby continues. “It’s a big change. But it’s a necessary one. I’m ready for this, Granny.  You are too. And in time, this’ll feel completely normal, and we’ll have forgotten what it was like to live like we are.”

Granny is silent for a few moments. Webby glances up, nervous, only to find Granny smiling proudly, and wiping a small tear away under her glasses.

“Webby, dear, you are so wise,” she says, her voice thick. Webby’s heart clenches. “Aren’t I the one supposed to give you the deep, heartfelt talks and inspire you, and not the other way around?”

Webby gives her a small smile. “You’ve done it before, Granny. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Granny sniffles rather uncharacteristically. Without warning, she lunges forward and scoops Webby up in a tight hug. “Oh, my dear,” Granny says, her voice choked with tears. “You are just lovely, you know that? How did I ever get so lucky to have you for a granddaughter?”

“Well, it’s partly because of you,” Webby says, smiling into her grandmother’s back. “You raised me.”

Granny nods into Webby’s shoulder. “And it was lovely.”

When Granny finally pulls back, she tugs Webby back to face her, her hands on Webby’s shoulders. “You’re growing up,” she says thickly. “Oh, Webbigail, I am so proud of you.”

Webby beams at her grandmother. “I’m proud of you, too.”

“Oh,” Granny says thickly, and hugs her again.

~

HEY REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I WOULD WRITE THE CONVERSATION WITH WEBBY AND BEAKLEY WELL HERE IT IS :D (rip my poor math homework i’ll be up all night finishing that ugh)

i wrote this in like,, 45 minutes because i had to get the few sentences i was thinking about down before i forgot them and just,, kept going lmao. rip the webby & lena convo story i’ve been chipping away at that is going absolutely nowhere rn. i’ll get to it

webby and beakley’s relationship is SO important to me. beakley literally gave up everything for webby. it’s so obvious how much beakley cares about her, but also,,, they had this entire episode about trusting each other and then beakley promises not to keep any more secrets from webby and she has absolutely zero intention of keeping it. that always gets me. especially since webby is one of the most trusting characters of all time and would never doubt her grandmother of all people after they made up. i’m not salting on beakley or anything, but it’s very interesting to think about going forward since beakley will obviously try to do better, especially once the major factor keeping her quiet is gone, but she really doesn’t have a leg to stand on since she broke her promise. definitely an interesting concept we should talk about more

we talk a lot about how scrooge never apologized to webby after telling her she wasn’t family in last crash of the sunchaser and she immediately forgave him. scrooge def should’ve apologized but it’s interesting to note that webby basically can’t and won’t hold a grudge for the life of her, at least when it comes to the people she cares about (she definitely can with goldie DJDFKLSLDF). it’s sweet. i imagine beakley feels incredibly guilty after the finale but webby’s just ready to move on and to enter a new chapter of their lives where they’re completely honest and open with each other. i don’t imagine she’s not upset at the deception, but she’s not mad.

also man that interrogation scene? that probably traumatized webby. man. what a shitty situation to be in i can’t even imagine.

beakley and webby’s relationship will always mean the world to me, especially with the added context of their backstory. beakley literally saw one (1) baby and was like i’m about to end this man’s (me) whole career LMAO. it’s incredible.

[violetfaust]

I'm interested in hearing more about why you think Margot should've been Rumbelle's daughter. Sounds interesting, but what would that mean for her enchanted forest life? I think her being Robin Hood's daughter would've been fine if not for Zelena

Okay, Nonny, since you sent this a few days before Mother's Day, I'm gonna finally take the opportunity to try to sum up and speed-run the Belle's Daughter Margot feelings that have haunted me for THREE YEARS. Buckle in; this will be more than you or anyone asked for.

Disclaimer 1: It's been, well, three years, so my memory of Curious Archer and their story is not perfect; could be off on some details here. And Disclaimer 2: I really loved Tiera Skovbye as Robin/Margot; she did a lot with not much screen time, and she and Rose had fabulous chemistry. So although she was well cast as Robin Sr.'s kid, Tiera would be perfectly believable as a Rumbelle daughter, too--maybe give her some low-lights and call it a day. We keep Tiera as Margot in this rewrite. Okay: onward.

(Since one of the few things that would have to change about Robin if she were Rumbelle’s daughter is her name, I’ll just mostly use her Hyperion Heights name “Margot” throughout this post for simplicity.)

First and foremost, the foundation of everything: Margot is so like Belle! She is so like her. They have the same love of adventure, a similar sense of humor. She took Alice on a date to a bookstore. Most of all, she has Belle’s ability to see past “the mask of the monster” to a person’s heart. There was a great scene where Tilly explained that she didn’t want Margot to see her “bad days” because she thought it would be “too much,” and Margot said words to the effect that she was there for the bad as well as the good.

Obviously, people don't have to grow up to be exactly like their parents (Belle and Rumple sure didn't)...BUT. In fiction, one of the fun parts of next-gen stories is for the audience to see how their favorites' personalities are passed down. It's just more fun to see a Henry who has parts of Regina/Emma/Neal than one who doesn't; it's fun to see Lucy resemble little Henry. And it would be fun to see Margot be like her parents (she is very like Robin Sr; not so much Zee). Seeing a character who has so many of Belle's traits becomes just more...fun...when she learned them FROM Belle.

The family feud Rumple/Hook angle turns Alice and Margot’s relationship up another roman tic notch. A classic trope! It’s about reconciliation and love remaking and erasing those old grudges. Which is even more important when we’re supposed to believe that the evidence of Rumple’s final redemption is his saving Rook.

On a more macro level: the entire claim that OUAT is "a show about hope" COLLAPSES because it ends with the annihilation of the Stiltskin family. Rumple, Belle, and Neal are all dead; Henry doesn’t acknowledge them as his family; and Gideon is a friendless and forgotten orphan in another world. I did my rants about this three years ago, but long story short: the show’s not about hope unless it’s hopeful for EVERYONE. And having at least one of Rumbelle’s children alive and happy at the end (with her True Love and friends and acknowledged as part of the family) would fix that. My objection has never been that Rumple (and even Belle) die, but the way it happened.

And of course, Rumbelle needed to have at least one other child because Kitsowitz managed to deny them even one single shared happy moment surrounding Belle’s pregnancy with Gideon and his birth. Even if the audience didn’t get to see it (and we could have gotten a glimpse in Beauty), we deserved to know it happened.

Finally: Zelena did not belong in S7, period. I know it was fun for her fans! (Although apparently there weren't enough of them to positively affect the ratings, meow.) I do know! But it was bad storytelling. She served no point in the larger season arc, and the serial witch killer plot that was invented to serve her was one of the worst and most stupid things Kitsowitz came up with in seven years, and ate up time that could/should have gone to develop other characters. (Driz and Ana come immediately to mind, instead of having them shunted off to another universe, but also Henry/Cinda/Lucy and of course Rumple since his plot was coming to a close.) Zelena didn’t even get any significant growth herself, or develop her relationships with Regina or Robin. She still didn’t express regret for the horrible things she did to characters we love (Rumple, Neal, and Robin Sr.); the only result of all that screentime was to give an unrepentant rapist a love story with a person--we barely see and have zero investment in. And even that was ultimately negated at the end of the season, because in the finale Zee’s back in Storybrooke sans Boo Bear.

So, all that said: what would have to change about Margot’s, and Curious Archer’s, FTL storyline to give us Margot Gold?

Her name—but actually very little else. (And frankly it would have been more respectful to have Belle name her daughter after Robin Sr., who was actually her friend, than for Zee to name her kid after the man she raped, manipulated, and ultimately got killed—but that ship had sailed.)

Belle and Rumple could have given their daughter any number of fairytale names after people they know, aka fresh take on a Disney character. My favorite possibilities are Aurora (and then Curious Archer could have been Curious Beauty, and done a riff on the Sleeping Beauty story as part of their FTL backstory, with a built-in TLK) and Merlin (very pretty for a girl, I’ve always thought).

But the character herself would have been very much the same: she could be Rumbelle’s jock daughter, trained in archery and swordsmanship by family friends (Merida/Mulan/Charming), but always feeling out of place in her family of scholars/sorcerers/nerds.

I am SO sorry for the length of this--there's even more under this cut!

Robin/Margot felt insecure about trying to live up to her father’s name; Rory/Merlin/Margot could have similar anxieties trying to live down her father’s Dark One rep. There could even be a similar story where she was born with magic (like Robin was) but loses it or chooses to give it up—something that would estrange her further from her family. Or, if she was Merlin, she could keep her magic but be reluctant to use it, and part of Curious Archer’s Hyperion Heights arc would be both Margot and Tilly discovering and accepting their magic. (Sapphic sorceresses for the win.)

Now, one of the cutest things about Alice/Robin’s FTL dynamic was Robin being a girl from the Land Without Magic finding her feet in an enchanted forest, with Alice’s help. But it would only take a little finessing of S7 Rumbelle’s story to get that for Rory as well. (Of course, any decent story would have a LOT of finessing of Rumbelle’s plot so that Belle didn’t die and put Rumple on a suicide mission, but again—assuming the ship has sailed…)

Say that Rory is five to six years younger than Gideon. The Rumbelle family spend a dozen years or so traveling the realms, but then Rumbelle decide that they want Gideon and Rory to be comfortable in the LWoM with their extended Charming family, so they settle back into the Pink Palace so the kids can get a LWoM education. They still take occasional journeys, often Rumbelle going to save some hapless souls, but Rory grows up primarily in SB with very few, vague memories of all the fascinating places they visited when she was a small child. This feeds her hunger for adventure along with some envy of Gideon for having so many more fairytale experiences—another thing that makes her feel like a misfit in her family. So, presto, when she moves to FTL she and Alice have pretty much the same meeting/adventures.

One of the key notes of Rumple and Alice/Tilly's relationship, showing his growth and making it so special, was how he chose to set her free of being the Guardian or whatever, allowing her to be free and get what he never had, the chance to grow old with the woman she loves. And that would be weakened if Rumple knew that by choosing Alice's happiness over his own, he was also choosing his own daughter's happiness (because we know Rumple picks his kids over himself ever time). But--he doesn't have to know WHO Alice's True Love is when he makes that choice. He could just know that there is someone, or simply realize that Alice deserves her freedom for her own sake. (Rumple's daughter also getting happiness would be a side benefit that he didn't learn about till later, and have the added perk of Rumple actually getting a narrative reward for doing something good. Which almost NEVER happened! Bonus.)

Finally: I do understand that Robin's presence on the canvas was important to fans of Robin Sr.--getting to know he's remembered and having someone carry on his legacy. Of course I get it--Rumbelle and their family not having that is my biggest complaint (of so so many).

But we don't need a grown-up Robin Jr. to be Robin's legacy. Let her stay a cute background kid with perennially baby Prince Neal. There's already a character, one we're invested in, to carry on for the Hoods: Roland. And again, it would be satisfying for the audience to learn that a five-year-old orphan wasn't shunted off from what family he had left (Regina and Henry) into another universe and never heard from again. If Kitsowitz didn't waste time with Zelena, they wouldn't have needed the idiotic Jack-is-Hansel-the-serial-killer twist, and we could have have had Roland filling the role of Henry's best friend/little brother (and therefore Lucy's fake HH dad--God, that plot was bad all the way back in season 1; why Kitsowitz why?). We'd see Roland onscreen, part of the family, at the end of the show, perhaps with his own True Love (Drizella, maybe, or better yet Gideon) and happy future.

So, that's it: the combination of Margot Stiltskin-Gold and Roland Hood tightens and heightens the storytelling throughout S7, closes some plot holes, and actually fulfills some of the show's stated themes. Who knew!

Anyone else want three years of OUAT theory vomit? 😋 Shoot me an ask!

(I actually have another one, god help us all, but I might save it till Father's Day...)

[justafandomfollower]

Thoughts on Stargirl S02E01

Season 2 is here! So, I watched the first episode last night and, while I don’t often do this for TV shows I watch, wanted to share/write up my thoughts about the episode. I mean, overall, I thought it was really good and I was grinning like a loon to see the familiar characters back onscreen. But, more than that, I had some thoughts on individual characters.

First, I really really liked the way they handled Courtney’s “overworking” as Stargirl. A lot of other shows would have the debate about how being Stargirl is dangerous and she’s just a teenager, etc., etc. But they hashed that out last season, and they’re not bringing it up again here, which should be the bare minimum but ends up just being refreshing. Pat never says she needs to put away the staff (except for that last bit where he grounds her, and even that’s temporary). Instead, he cautions her to find a balance between the superhero and non-superhero parts of her life, to pass her classes, get good grades, get some sleep, learn to take breaks every now and again, and think about her future.

I do think Courtney will ultimately be proven right about the threats that are out there (I mean, duh, we saw Cindy and Eclipso right there), but nothing Pat said was wrong, or telling her that there were no threats. So, yeah. Big fan of that part. As for Green Lantern’s daughter, while Courtney was her usual “act first, think later” self, I also kind of can’t blame her, because someone did sneak into their house and steal important JSA relics. There were faults on both sides here.

The rest of my thoughts I’ve thrown under a read-more because it’s long and rambling:

I’m pretty solid and happy with where the other three JSA kids are at the moment, but I figured I’d still break it down a little.

Yolanda: I like that she’s struggling with what she did, even months later. I like that she knows she can’t say anything at church, I like that she’s still able to talk about it with Courtney, and I like that Courtney was supportive without outright agreeing with or condemning her actions. It’s a tough thing for kids to talk about, and while an experienced adult like Pat might be able to understand it better, I like that Yolanda’s not completely bottling it up.

On that note, though, they said Cindy might have gotten crushed when the satellite came down, “like Brainwave”, so there’s a possibility here that nobody else knows what Yolanda did, which’ll be interesting to see play out, if that’s true.

Rick: Again, I like where he’s at. He’s more confident in who he is, a little more settled, but also still lost. He claims Tyler as his name again and knows he’s a hero, but he doesn’t know where he goes from here. I think that’s part of why he’s seeking out Grundy, because he’s still clinging to that part of his past because he doesn’t have any clue of what’s in his future.

He’s still very much an angry teenager new at being a superhero, ranting to that teacher about how he saved her, but knowing his character (and acknowledging how crappy that teacher was), I can’t entirely blame him for that. Was it a good move? No. Did it make sense? Absolutely.

Speaking of that teacher, she was not a good one. Can I understand her wariness about the bad boy of the school suddenly getting every answer right? Sure. But, 1) it’s been months, so surely there’s been some gradual improvement, 2) that’s not the way to do it; talk to him about it, sure, but don’t refuse to accept his explanations, and 3) refusing to accept his name change is a jerk move that a figure of authority shouldn’t be making. I could wave away the first one from TV-time-skipping-magic, but not the other two. I don’t really think we’ll see this character again (but maybe in summer school), but she’s more of a vessel to show us 1) how Rick’s changed and 2) how the way others see him hasn’t, so, I suppose, in that regard, she did her job.

Beth: It’s neat that the goggles still seem to be (mostly) working, but it’s the AI that’s not functioning. Not the route I’d thought they’d go, but it’s really interesting because it gives Beth a chance to expand her skill set, or at least expand it to the viewer, and give her a role as a coder/computer scientist. It also doesn’t cheapen the “death” of the AI that happened last season.

Also, like the others (Rick at school with the teachers, Courtney and Yolanda having a discussion in the middle of main street, even Pat with STRIPE), she’s not great at hiding her activities. They’re just goggles, maybe, and she could explain them away fairly easy, but I don’t like the way she just leaves them out around the house. I’m okay with it for now because 1) she’s a teenager, still learning, and they are pretty innocuous, 2) some of it’s probably just TV “requirements”, like not wanting to cut from scene to scene or whatever (idk, I’m not in the TV business), and 3) her parents seem pretty clueless.

And speaking of her parents, man did I not like them even more this season. Every time I saw them on screen my mind went straight to: “good people, terrible parents”. Did they ever even want a kid, or did they just like the idea of having a kid to fit into their “perfect lives” until even that wasn’t enough to keep them together? They’re barely aware of what Beth does on a day to day basis, she still seems to be the one doing all the cooking, and they forget to tell her they’re coming home late? Bad parenting, and selfish parenting at that.

Overall, my mood about Beth this episode can be summed up like this: Do I like Beth struggling? No. Does it open up possibilities for what could be a really intriguing character arc? Yeah.

My biggest complaint about our JSA is that there weren’t really any scenes of them together, but that’s more of the time constraints of having so many characters we needed to get concrete information on regarding where they stand. They had that nice patrol scene in the beginning to let us know they’re all still solid friends, so I’m happy enough with that for now.

Other thoughts:

Barbara wasn’t really in it much (no mention of her job, though the newspaper article did say something about The American Dream going through changes after the death of its leader or something like that), but I can sympathize with her wanting a vacation and not getting one. It’ll be interesting to see how okay she is with Courtney as Stargirl as things get more dangerous.

Mike, likewise, wasn’t much present, but it’s clear he’s still struggling to be a part of things. Pat wasn’t wrong, when he said that the discipline, etc. from having a job was important, but it still feels like he’s brushing Mike aside and not letting him be involved, so I can see some more resentment brewing this season. Better than last season, but c’mon Pat. Mike just wants to help. Still, hopefully we’ll get a better idea of where Mike stands in future episodes.

Artemis. Really interesting the way she brushed aside her parents being in jail as them being wrongly convicted. I’ve seen Young Justice, so I’m looking forward to seeing if they turn her into a villain or hero here.

Zeek. (Is that how he spelled it? It looked like that on his hat.) I’m, probably unnecessarily, wary of how interested he was in working with Pat at the show (does he know something?) but for now I’m mostly just mildly amused at his “I don’t care what you do on your time, but hey, do you think that robot could use a flamethrower?”. Also. Pat. C’mon man. You’ve been in this business for decades. Hide your robot better. (Though, I’ll admit, he was only resigned when he realized Zeek had found it, so... Did he have an excuse ready? Did he just not read Zeek as a threat? I’m probably reading too much into this, but it’ll again be interesting to see where it goes.)

Cameron’s back, seemingly unaware of everything, and it looks like his murderous grandparents are taking care of him. Not great, but, eh, we’ll see what happens.

Sylvester is still tracking down Pat. I’m a little bit glad the landlord either didn’t give him, or didn’t have, Pat’s information from that end scene last season. I’m also interested to see if Maggie (Mike’s Mom, if my understanding of comics I haven’t read is correct) sticks around. Sylvester seems supremely unworried and in a mostly good mood, despite his desire to track down Pat, so I really want to know what’s up with him. I’ve seen some fan theories of time travel and him being a displaced Starman, which could be interesting, but I have no idea if they’re accurate. He certainly seems to be the real deal, at least with all the right memories.

Cindy and Eclipso. That opening scene was creepy, and made me question if I’d turned on the right show, and the connection with the McNider family is really interesting. Did not like the way she had Mike’s picture, but from a writing POV I really liked it. I don’t want Mike to go villain, but I mostly trust the writers to see how this plays out.

Other thoughts: The town seems to have moved on from the mind control/satellite-dish-from-the-football-field thing, so I’m guessing there weren’t too many causalities. New principal makes sense, and I like that they didn’t need to shove it in our face to remind us what happened to the old one (plus that scene where Courtney bumps into her kid; nice and simple and shows a little of how he’s coping). I appreciate that Henry hasn’t been forgotten. No glimpse of Yolanda’s home life yet, or Rick’s uncle. No idea how Rick managed to change his name, but the threat he was hiding from is more or less gone, so it makes sense.

I may have forgotten something here or there, but anyone who’s made it this far deserves a cookie, so, thanks for reading! I’m always up for discussion if anyone wants to add on or debate any of my points.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x12: Don't say we'll have to let it go...

After a very stressful morning and several moments in which I was close to a full sanity slip completely unrelated to this, it is high time (heck, it's the highest of times, if you know what I mean) I got to the new HSMTMTS, the last one for a while.

I'm honestly scared, though. This morning I thought nothing could make me more nervous today than the whole ordeal I had to go through, but now that I'm here, I'm super scared and anxious. I don't even want to say it, but... what if this is... you know what I'm thinking. We're all thinking it. I just hope we're wrong in a good way.

I feel like I might die of anxiety, so I guess I'll just dive in. Whatever will be, will be.

Supportive Nini is best Nini. Honestly, I haven't liked her all season as much as I do now. The background, behind-the-scenes role seems to fit her a lot better than the lead. I hope to see more of her like this when (fingers crossed!!!) the show comes back.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, is a perfect lead. She was born for this, and it shows. It shows so much that everybody has finally noticed it. They took their time, didn't they?

Ugh, I hate, hate, hate this kind of moment that happens every time when someone has prepared a surprise for someone else — and we saw that twice this season — once with Carlos at his Quinceañero, and now with Ashlyn. I mean the moment before they find out about the surprise and they feel like they've been forgotten and it's all so sad... at least I know whatever my boy Reddy has planned for his girl will make up for that sort of feeling. I can't wait!

Ahhhhh @redlyncentral you called it! You called it big time! I can't say I wasn't expecting it to be something like this, though, because I trust your sixth sense more than I trust mine — and I trust mine a lot. Also, if anyone deserves to have their name in lights, it's Ashlyn. And remember when she told Big Red that, to make things light up, he just had to walk into a room? Or when he told her that the only thing he'd throw at her was a brighter spotlight? You know, I think that, just like airports are Portwell's thing, lights are Redlyn's thing. And that is so beautiful... I am legitimately crying.

Yikes... see, it's one thing when Nini calls Ricky 'Richard'. But it's another thing entirely when Kourtney calls Howie 'Howard'. Gosh, I hope they clear things up. If Howie has something to say (as in, some secret to come clean about, if you catch my drift), he'd better do it now. I was never too invested in Kowie, but it still hurts to see tension between them.

Ok, but... these two are too dorky for words! I mean, you're telling me Howie was acting that way just because of how nervous Kourtney's talent made him? Oh well, I feel like I can understand that, actually. She's a powerhouse. But also, everyone around here needs to learn a lesson or two from Redlyn. About communication, reciprocity, expression of feelings... it's no accident that they're the parents of the drama club. But this is not about them. Oh, who am I kidding? With me, everything is about them. Unless it's about Seblos or Portwell. Never mind. Moving on.

I am trying very hard not to have a visible or audible reaction because my brother is in the room and I'm supposed to be working, but... EJ had his dad put in a good word for Mr Mazzara at Caltech. And that is something that makes me feel feelings I can't very easily put into words. Also, what does that mean for Mr M's future at East High?

As clear as the imprint of Jamie's words is to see on EJ's face, I feel like he's not giving up on Portwell quite yet. 'Play it by ear' sounded quite promising to me, all things considered.

Not Ricky and Nini writing the same thing in slightly different words... again! I absolutely get why people ship them, at least on the surface level I do, but I really can't see them as a couple anymore. That is not to say, however, that I'm not rooting for them on their way to figuring out how to be 'just' friends. (See, I'm not a big fan of the expression 'just friends', as if it's something less than a romantic relationship, so...) They could be the best friends ever. If, and only if they learn to communicate properly. All kinds of relationships require good communication. I feel like I'm saying that a lot, but, you know, if it's true...

I can't look at Miss Jenn the same way after last week's episode. The Menkies have turned her, quite frankly, into a monster. She's too obsessed with beating Zacky Roy to notice how she's treating her students who have always been nothing but devoted to her and the play. Well, some of them anyway... I feel like it's time for Carlos to reconsider his opinion of her... and I know it must be painful, and the least thing I'd ever wish for him is pain, but... sometimes certain painful things are necessary. I just hope everyone comes out of this alright. I think I might not, though. I've been crying for a while already.

No... why is Gina crying? My girl needs a hug... Oh, here comes Nini. This seems like it's been a long time coming.

This was beautiful... only one character played by an actress named Olivia will be redeemed today. And it's the right one, if I do say so myself.

Alright, who called it? Gina connecting Nini with her brother about her music, I mean. I know for a fact someone here called it. If you happen to be that genius and you read this, please come forward in the notes to get the credit you deserve. This is... a little too perfect to be true, but I feel like it's the best way to connect and wrap up several storylines with one blow. And I love when that happens. Gosh, why does this feel like a series finale? Please tell me I'm wrong. I am not ready. I will never be ready. Ok, maybe one day I will be, but not anytime soon. Please tell me my feeling is deceiving me this time.

Oh, good, it's being addressed. The 'jump off of something high' comment, I mean. It would have been wrong not to address it. I kind of really liked the way they did it, too. Also, 'getting there' really is the most accurate answer to the question whether Ricky is happy. I feel like he's got a long way to go before he does get there, but he really is closer to that destination than he's been in a while. This boy deserves all the happiness. He's been through way too much. And I'm glad Miss Jenn is finally seeing her part in his struggles throughout the year.

Ahhh it's the song! I've been so excited for it all week, ever since that teaser leaked. But, once again: why does this feel like a finale? I want to curb my anxiety and watch this episode with a free mind, but the episode itself just isn't helping me. Ok, let's go back to the song for now. Whatever will be, will be.

No... EJ's verse... just no. Somebody tell that boy not to be so hung up on the words of somebody who doesn't even know who Gina is today. I've had 'the majestic S.S. Portwell' for a couple of weeks and I'm not ready for it not setting sail after it was almost out of the... port(well). Have I ever told you I make bad puns when I'm anxious?

Carlos doesn't even remember being on stage... that's too relatable to be overlooked. See, I used to perform on stage (I've decided to quit for good now and it makes me cry only slightly), and that has always been how I've felt about it. I feel like my favourites are who they are because I relate to each one of them to an extent — some are who I think I am, some are who I used to be, and some are who I wish I could become... and so much more on top. I'm being so emotional. I'm not ready to let these kids go. Please someone tell me I won't have to, at least not quite yet.

The Wildcats' reaction to... Capital-B-witch and Fake-French-Git-who-is-apparently-French-for-real (as I've taken to calling those two because calling them by their real names would mean showing them respect which they don't deserve) was exactly the same as mine. No one invited them there. They're not supposed to be there. Someone kick them out.

'Big Red... you were... also there!' Um, excuse you, he was not just 'there'! I mean, I know we didn't get to see him on stage (we've been robbed!!!), but I'm sure he was the most amazing LeFou to ever grace a theatre stage. That being said, we have been robbed! But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I want to see what Big Red's reaction will be. I've been fantasising about this moment for weeks now.

Ok... so I said a couple of weeks ago, in my post on 2x10, that Ricky has been given a chance to prove what kind of friend he is right then and there... and, well, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned it, but it was nice. I think that's the word for it. Nice. Ricky is just too nice to do what I kept seeing in my fantasy. And Big Red is doubly too nice to do it. But I... I surprise myself sometimes with how aggressive I can get in defence of other people. Maybe it's better this way than my way.

Did that capital-B-witch just say what I thought I heard her say? Because there's no way she just said that. Also, 'sometimes people deserve a second chance'... well, yeah. And sometimes they don't, you... well, I don't use words like that, but you guys can put two and two together, right?

'I'd trade it all for this group right here tonight'... me too, Eej, me too. I'm not even going to pretend I'm not crying because, guess what, I'm bloody bawling my eyes out! I kind of stopped for a moment when you-know-who and her second-in-command came in, but now I'm crying again. I am so not ready to let these kids go.

So... they're dropping out? Just like that? Well, that was anticlimactic! But hey, I absolutely get it. That's the Wildcat spirit, after all, isn't it? They did win already. They won something that some of North High's students can never understand. And that's more important than just about anything. [side note: I've got to say I appreciate the fact that my boy Reddy is now able to joke about his opening night predicament. See, that's another thing I relate to. I go through the craziest stuff, and then I laugh and tell stories to anyone who will listen. And I think that's the best approach to that kind of stuff. I just wish I could be less dramatic about the little things, too. It seems to me it's easier to laugh about the big, serious stuff once it's over, but not about some things that most people would deem unworthy of their attention. But hey, I'm working on that. Also, this post is not supposed to be about me. Moving on.]

Bless Ashlyn and the fact that she's good at communication. Even if she's a little late. She's not too late yet. Portwell might still be saved.

No, Ricky, you so did not just call you-know-who! I will not stand for any of that. Unless it's to shut her off once and for all, in which case I say go for it and go full steam. But why do I get the feeling it's not going to be like that? Ok, never mind, let's set that one aside and focus on Portwell for a second.

Ok, that was... that was going to be so beautiful, and then they cut it off. Is Portwell about to be Redlyn 2.0? Oh well, if it really is, that isn't going to be so bad after all. But now all I can think about is... when are we getting the renewal? How am I supposed to sleep at night until we know for sure?

Not them making me cry with a BTS montage... as if I wasn't crying hard enough already. I'm not alone in the house, you guys! In fact, we're having a bunch of guests from overseas in... wait, I think they're at the door. I'm not ready for people! Not now. Pray for me, you guys! (In all seriousness, though, don’t pray for me. Pray for a season 3 announcement to come soon)

[wasithard]

my self esteem is through the roof right now (thank you @vinylpaperclip​) i’m just gonna post the whole “australian!annabeth” fic here even though i think its wildly out of character based on the fact that annabeth is absolutely a self-insert for myself but who cares!!!!! 

in case it isnt clear footy = football and in this case is referring to the great game of rugby league. i apologise in advance for the ending which is just....a whole lot of cheese. enjoy!

She really did bring a footy jersey all the way with her to England, even though it was going to be seen by exactly zero other people as she watched the game by herself in her room.

But hey, it feels like home, and from the excited text she gets from her brothers in response to the photo she sends them of her in it lets her know that she made them smile, which makes it worth it.

They’re halfway into the first half, Blues up by 2, when her phone dings.

 Dumbass: are you around i’m bored

You: watching the footy you may join me but no talking this is important

Dumbass: if it’s australian football it’s not important but sure

When she opens the door for him a few minutes later Percy squints at her.

“Are you wearing a jersey? Did you bring a jersey all the way here?” He sounds incredulous.

“Gotta support the boys!” She says in reply, turning around and racing back to her bed and her laptop so she doesn’t miss anymore game time.

Annabeth hears Percy shut the door before he joins her, poking her in the side to get her to make room for him on the bed. She shuffles over and he settles in beside her, stretching an arm behind her as she sinks into his side.

“Oh, it’s rugby league. That’s acceptable at least.”

“What did you think I was watching?” She asks him, eyes not leaving the screen.

“I thought you were going to make me sit through your country’s sorry excuse for soccer.”

“You know what, I’m not even going to try and defend us on that one.”

He chuckles, “Good.”

They fall into a silence and Annabeth is wholly focused on the game. She fills Percy in on the importance of this game, the long, intense rivalry of the teams, who her favourite and least favourite players are. For his part, he seems to actually care, or does a good job of pretending.

At half time he raises his eyebrows, “This is actually pretty entertaining.”

“Well duh,” she says, turning to face him, “We’re world number 1s and this is an all-stars match.”

“I don’t know about world number ones,” he says. The smile on his face tells her he’s just trying to rile her up, but she can’t help herself.

“We literally won the World Cup last year.”

“Home ground advantage. Doesn’t count.”

She’s smiling as she shakes her head, “Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick to her lips for the briefest of seconds.

It sends butterflies shooting through her stomach, and she’s suddenly very much aware of all the places he’s touching her. She loves it, this game they’ve been playing for the past couple of weeks, dancing around each other. She only loves it, she thinks, because she knows he feels the same.

There’s no mystery about either of their feelings for each other, the question is only when they’ll crack and act on them.

Not right now, she thinks to herself, I haven’t waited this long for our first kiss not to be romantic.

She grabs a pillow from her other side and whacks his face with it, laughing at the exclamation she gets out of him.

He grabs her and smothers her with it. She manages to blindly locate his armpit and starts tickling him there. Maybe not the most graceful way of getting him off of her, but it works.

“Did you just tickle me?!”

“Yes and if you try to do it back I can’t promise that I won’t draw blood.” She states simply, getting up from the bed and walking to the kitchenette. “Hungry?” She asks.

“Surely you know the answer to that.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, “I’ve only got snacks. Do you want chips or bread?”

He rolls onto his back, his head hanging off the side of the bed as he watches her, “Will that bread have Vegemite on it?”

“You know it will!” Her voice is cheery from inside a cupboard as she brings out her 1kg tub of Vegemite.

“Have I told you how happy I am that you recognise the sheer deliciousness of Vegemite?” She says, passing him a plate with two slices of Vegemite-lathered bread as she returns to the bed.

“Yes, many times.”

“Well, I’m telling you again. I’m so glad you have taste, unlike everyone else in this country who thinks Marmite is edible.”

“It’s a gift.” He says, grinning through a mouthful of bread. She scrunches her nose in disgust and fetches her laptop from the end of her bed.

“Perfect timing,” she mutters as the game restarts for the second half. They settle into their comfortable silence again, the only sounds the voices of the commentators, their mouths chewing the bread and Annabeth’s occasional gasps and muttered curses.

He takes their plates when they’re done and puts them on the floor next to the bed. They rearrange themselves so that she’s leaning against him again and this time his arm rests around her waist, hand laying on her hip.

It starts as nothing, but at some point his hand finds his way under the thick, blue cotton of her jersey and onto the smooth warmth of her skin underneath.

She hears her own sharp intake of breath and wishes her body wouldn’t be so obvious about the effect Percy has on her. He sounds genuinely worried when he says, “Sorry, should I–”

“No! No, you’re fine.” She says, glancing at him in reassurance, “It’s nice.”

Nice, she thinks, ugh. But she refocuses on the game, his hand a weight burning into her side.

They sit a few more minutes until he rubs his thumb slowly upwards along her stomach, and Annabeth thinks she might die. Involuntarily, she inhales again.

She can hear a small smile in Percy’s voice when he asks, “You ok?”

She doesn’t trust her voice so she nods and hums the affirmative, but her breathing is shallow.

“Ok,” he says, and brings his head down to rest on her shoulder, lips brushing the top of her back. She fights the urge to tense her body in anticipation and instead turns on him. He jerks back in surprise.

“Actually, you’re being distracting. I’m going to need to you stop this until the game is over.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips. “I’m distracting am I?”

“Yep,” she says, turning back around, “I already said it, not saying it again.”

“What about what I’m doing is distracting you, ‘Beth?” He asks, bringing his head back down to near her shoulder.

“I’m not talking about this while there’s a game on, unfortunately.”

“Ok I’ll just chill here then.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t do that either.”

“Should I leave then?”

“Nope.”

“Well…”

She huffs in frustration, “Percy!” She turns towards him, mouth open to berate him but the words get stuck in her throat at the way he is positively beaming at her. She hates him for it. She falls a little more in love with him for it.

She exhales, deflating. “Why now?” She asks.

He tilts his head, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she turns her body so that she’s fully facing him now, the game momentarily forgotten. “Why now of all times to be so forward?”

She can see his brain thinking, oh ok so we’re actually talking about this now, as he blinks a few times. “Why not?”

She thinks about spitting some more banter about how she’s in the middle of a very important rugby game and it’s actually quite rude of him to interrupt her with this but decides instead to try and be honest, to let herself be vulnerable. Because if one thing has become clear to her over the months she’s been living in England, is that she can trust this man in front of her. He’s listened to her talk about architecture and Australian politics just as intently as he’s listened to her tell him about her parents and step-family and her attempts to start living a life for herself instead of a life to try and please the people around her.

Her voice is small when she responds. “Why me?” 

She’s staring at him with an openness that scares her a little bit, but she feels a bit better when she sees his entire body soften.

Percy’s gaze searches hers for a moment, the expression on his face as if he’s asking, are you joking? 

He shakes his head a little in disbelief, “Because, Annabeth, how could I know you and not be desperately in love with you?”

A sound falls out of her, like she’s released a weight she’s been holding for years. She hesitates for one last moment before both of her hands reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him close and capturing his lips with hers, because she has to. 

His words are ones she’s been wishing to hear for years, a suggestion of a romance she’s been blindly, naively hoping she’ll find one day. She kisses him with the force of twenty-two years of yearning for someone to see her and love her as she is; she kisses him with the relief of finally finding it.

His arms come around her and hug her closer to him and her hands slide up his chest and around his neck, pulling herself into his lap so that they are flush against each other. She’s not sure how long they’re kissing, but when she eventually pulls back they’re both out of breath. Her hair is hanging around them both like a curtain, enclosing them in their own world where they are totally lost in this moment, in each other. His eyes are sparkling up at her and there’s a beautiful redness to his cheeks that make his eyes shine even brighter. She brings her hands up to cup his face, thumbs tracing his cheeks, and he just stares and stares until she closes the space between them again with one more long, searing kiss. One that she feels deep in her belly.

He rolls them over so they’re lying next to each other on the bed when they break apart again, and she keeps one hand resting on his face as they just look at each other, entranced.

An eruption of cheers from the tinny laptop speakers snaps her out of her daze. She bolts upright and checks the score – it’s full time and the Blues have won the game. She shouts with joy, shuts the laptop and tosses it to the end of the bed before falling back down next to him.

“I guess I’ve won twice today.” She says, shuffling closer so that her nose brushes his.

“Well, congratulations,” He says, “What’s the prize?”

She smiles slowly, her lips taking time to break apart and expose her grinning teeth. His eyes follow the movement, and his soft exhale as her smile grows bigger fills her chest with a golden warmth.

“He’s right here,” is all she says before leaning in again.

[echo-bleu]

Hey Emma! I adore your writing and I was wondering if I could ask for your advice. When writing an autistic character, are there any characteristics / plots etc that you don't like seeing? Or anything stereotypical that is overused or often portrayed incorrectly in writing?

Hi! Thank you so much 😊 I’m always willing to talk about autistic rep! This is a very interesting question and I’m so glad you asked.

Obviously this is going to be my own opinion (and to some extent, things I’ve talked about with other autistic people) so it’s not representative of the whole community. There is no absolute do/don’t rules here, because autistic people are as different from each other as allistic (non autistic) people are, so the rep is and needs to be varied and complex.

There are many overused tropes when it comes to autistic characters. I think the most obvious one is that a very large portion of autistic characters, especially in general media, are white, male and mostly cishet. It is a misconception that autism is more present in men, and autistic POC deserve rep. I’m not sure how widely known this is, but there is also a much higher fraction of queer autistic people than among the general population. (I tried to find some more articles to link here but I don’t have any on hand and looking this up is a minefield I noped out of immediately. I’ll try to come back with clearer resources).

The usual autistic character is usually of one of two types: little white boy who doesn’t speak, where the story is invariably about his parents/siblings/teacher and never about him, or adult white man who has “Asperger’s” (or maybe isn’t even clearly identified as autistic) and is socially awkward and a genius, usually in math or computers. Those are very much overused stereotypes. Both are often portrayed incorrectly as well: the nonspeaking child is usually only portrayed through the eyes of allistic people and not given any kind of personality, and the adult man often has very little personality other than their genius and their bluntness, doesn’t seem to have any other autistic traits than the ones allistics are meant to admire or laugh at (think Sheldon of TBBT).

That is not to say that all those characters are bad rep, but it would be really nice to see more variety. I want to see autistic POC. I want to see autistic women and nonbinary people. I want to see autistic WOC & nonbinary POC. And I want to see more diversity in the autistic traits that they have, but also in their personalities. Autism isn’t a personality, even though it is part of a person’s identity and affects who they are directly. Autistic characters should have their own likes and dislikes, dreams and hurdles to overcome that aren’t linked to their autism, and their own agency. This last one is especially important in the case of any disabled characters (and doubly if it’s not a man) because this is something that isn’t often given to disabled characters.

Now into slightly more details:

- Autistic geniuses do exist, but that trope is way overused and usually portrayed badly. That doesn’t mean it should never be used again, but it should be done carefully. Characters like House (House, MD), Sherlock (BBC Sherlock) or Sheldon (TBBT) have imo done actually harm to our community, and definitely to me personally (because identifying with a character who self-identifies as a “high-functioning sociopath” is didn’t really help my mental health when I was 16 and depressed). They are either assholes to the people around them, or their awkwardness is played for laughs. You’ll notice that these are also characters who aren’t formally identified as autistic in the shows, even though they are clearly autistic-coded. I do have examples of autistic(-coded) genius characters I think are quite well done, like Sherlock in Elementary or Flynn, Cassie and Jake in The Librarians. Parker, in Leverage, could go into this category, but I’d say that her ‘genius’ is of a different sort, and it’s an interesting twist on the trope.

- Nonspeaking/semi-speaking autistics are underrepresented as full characters (ie outside of the trope mentioned above). That would be really nice to see, but please do proper research before trying to write it. I would love to see characters using AAC tablets or sign language, for example.

- A lot of autistic people also have other disabilities. That can range from other neurodivergences & mental illnesses (ADHD, bipolar, dyslexia, PTSD, etc), physical disabilities, chronic illnesses (some illnesses like EDS have a high co-occurrence with autism). A lot of autistic people are queer. Both of those are things I’d really like to see more of.

- Stimming. The stimming I’ve seen portrayed, when it’s even there (it tends to be mostly forgotten in the genius-type storylines), tends to be very stereotypical. We all have different ways of interacting with our environment and of communicating. There are a lot of ways to flap (clapping, hitting fists together, fluttering fingers, etc), to rock, to self-soothe. I’d like to see characters who use chew toys and stim toys, who stim-dance, who sing, who echolalize a lot.

- Meltdowns. [mention of self-harming stims] This one is a bit delicate. Writers who have an autistic character tend to want to show them in a meltdown at some point to sort of “drive home” that they’re autistic and what it means. I get that, but I also think that it’s something that is hard to portray respectfully if you’re not autistic yourself, and maybe you should really think about whether it’s necessary. If you do decide to do it: not all autistic people will hit their head or hurt themselves or get angry. I tend to just burst in tears and be unable to stop for hours. There are many ways to melt down.

- Specific interests. While math and computers are common specific interests, they are way overused. Specific interests can be anything. Mine is currently Shadowhunters, but also medieval swords and sailing ships and autism and linguistics. Specific interests can be lifelong, they can change overtime, they can last a month and be over. They can coexist simultaneously. Some autistic people don’t really have any.

- I would like to see more stories of late-diagnosed people, though maybe leave the stories about diagnosis and identification to autistic writers. I’d like to see older autistic people. Especially older autistic people who are more visibly autistic. I’d like to see autistic people who are thriving in life, who are in love and have a partner who loves them back, who are good at their job (but not geniuses), who don’t have a job but volunteer and create and do things, who have children or pets.

- Sensory stuff. Hypersensitive hearing tends to be the most common trope, though not necessarily overused, but there are so many other things you can do. We have a lot of senses (more than the usual 5), and autistic people can be hyper and hyposensitive to each of them, sometimes both at the same time. So you can have your character struggle to feel pain, but be bothered by lights. They can be hypersensitive to color, or inversely seek it. They can love listening to the same music over and over again (that’s also a stim).

- As far as plots go. Again, agency is paramount. Their autism shouldn’t be their personality and their motivation. They shouldn’t be striving (or be required) to “overcome” their autism, and even less be cured of it. Accessibility barriers are a reality that should be reflected in fiction, but the story needs to be about more than that.

Here’s a post with some advice and things we’d like to see more of. I hope this was what you’re looking for!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 8 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter eight

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

Emily called me Charlie and now I can’t stop thinking about it. “Hey dude! How you doing?” Jeremy asks when I walk into the garage for a band practice when I come back from the Music Store. I can’t hide the smile that’s tugging at my lips. “She called me Charlie.” Both Owen and Jeremy look at me, a little stumped. “I mean, that’s your name?” Owen fairly points out. “Yeah! But she always called me Charles, you know with that scowl on her face and the corners of her mouth curling up slightly because she doesn’t want to smile. But tonight she actually called me Charlie!” I can’t contain my excitement. I feel like bouncing off the walls, running a marathon, climbing the Kilimanjaro. All in one night. “Happy for you, bro, but can we rehearse now?” Owen asks, seemingly stressed out, “My parents are annoyed at me and need me home asap.” He rolls his eyes at the thought alone. I pat his shoulder and grab my electric guitar, so we can start rehearsing. “Let’s do Crooked Teeth?” I suggest, and both Jeremy and Owen agree. I can’t stop thinking about Emily though. She called me Charlie.

“Practice tonight?” Jeremy asks when we meet at school the following day. “Yeah, but after seven. I’m hanging out with Emily tonight.” Owen and Jeremy’s eyebrows raise simultaneously. “Like a date?” Jeremy wants to know. “No,” I reply faster than I wanted to. “No, I’m just going to hang out at the store, play my guitar while she cleans up.” My two best friends nod their heads in understanding. “You’re bringing your own guitar to the Music Store?” Owen questions. “No, uhm… There’s this one guitar I always play when I’m there and she called it mine last night, so…” Once again, I can’t withhold myself from smiling at the thought alone. “Is it that Fender CD-60 in black?” Owen asks. “Yeah, that one,” I reply. “That’s the one she was tuning when I went in the store to ask her about the Open Mic Night.” I raise an eyebrow at him. So it was her that tuned the instrument differently from how I did it last time I was there. “Might’ve been a coincidence though.” “Might be,” I say, nodding, not believing one thing. That was no coincidence. Either she did that to mess with me, or she wanted to play the guitar I always used because she missed hearing the sound while working. I’m kind of hoping for the latter, which also means she missed me. Kind of.

Emily hasn’t arrived at the Music Store yet. Only Ash is present, along with a dude I’ve never seen before. I wonder if he’s the other employee whenever Emily’s at school.

“Oh, hey! Charlie, right?” Ash approaches me when I’m about to grab my guitar.

“Yeah. Yeah, hi, Ash!” The woman is taller than me, her bright red hair cut into a pixie cut, and her eyeliner dark and defining. She looks really cool. “Emily not here yet?”

“I’m afraid not. She might’ve been just held up at school or something. She’ll be here soon.”

“Okay, good. I wanted to ask her something.”

“Like on a date?” Ash wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“What? No!” My answer sounds way too defensively. “I wanted to ask her something about music.” Now she has this face that just tells me she doesn’t believe one thing I’m saying. I wasn’t planning on asking Emily on a date. Not that I don’t want to. I just think it’s too soon. She’s just warming up to me, I’m not going to jeopardize that by asking her on a date.

“Ah, too bad. I think you’d be a great couple.” I manage to offer her a smile while my insides are heating up. “I actually wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“To ask Emily out?” I ask, totally confused and too focused on my body heating up.

“No, no!” she scoffs, “No, I wanted to ask if you would help me out and polish some of the guitars? Most of those are just there for display since we have the actual for sale ones in the back in stock, but they’re in dire need of a good polish and my new assistant is shit.” I widen my eyes, knowing he’s walking around here and heard that. “It’s my brother, I’m allowed to say that,” she whispers to me and winks, comforting me a little bit. “I don’t mind paying you for it?” The offer sounds compelling, but I’ve been playing their guitars for weeks without ever paying for anything except when I actually purchased something.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll do it for free. I’m here every day anyway.” Ash offers me a smile.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m asking.” I open my mouth to say something else, but Ash has already turned back to her ‘shit assistant’. So, I close it and turn around to get to the guitars. I grab the one next to the black Fender, a mahogany Fender, when Ash brings me the polish to get to work. Which is also when the bell over the door rings, signaling a new client in the store. I look up to see if I’d recognize them from the neighborhood, and when I do, I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. It’s Emily. And with the low sun shining through the large windows behind her, she almost looks like an angel. She already has the voice for it.

“Hey, Charlie,” she greets with a wave.

“H-Hi, E-Emily.” I’m not sure why my mouth can’t form the proper words, but I’m struggling.

“Is Ash exploiting you now?” She points at the polish and the guitar in my hands.

“I mean, I’m here all the time anyway, so…” Emily raises an eyebrow before making her way to the cash register where Ash and her brother are fighting. Now I’m curious what she’s going to do since she didn’t really react to what I said.

“Are you exploiting kids for free now, Ashlynn?” She always uses full names when annoyed. Noted. Ash turns to face Emily, mid-conversation with her brother, her eyes wide.

“I didn’t pay you on Monday either because you told me you would do it for free, just as he said he’d do it for free. I’m just calling it a win-win situation,” she shrugs.

“He doesn’t work here though, I do. If I take non-paid hours, that’s my problem. He doesn’t work here. He has no contract. You know that brings both of you in trouble, right?” Ash’s eyes widen as if she’d forgotten about all of that since she’s been too busy with her brother. Deciding to hop into savior-mode, I hop off the bench I’m sitting on and rushing towards the girls. “I really don’t mind, Emily. If this means I get to spend time with you, I’d do anything.” Emily’s mouth curls up into a shy smile as her cheeks turn pink.

“Anything?” Ash asks with eyebrows raised.

“Don’t,” Emily says quickly, the tint in her cheeks not leaving, but the smile does, “even think about it. He’ll do the polishing while I clean up, but that’s it.” Ash wants to add something, but Emily gives her a sharp look that makes her shut up. “Now get your brother home.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” she salutes her employee before grabbing her brother by the sleeve and tugging him along through the store until they’re at the door. “Be good, you two!” she yells before shutting the door and leaving me and Emily alone.

“You really didn’t have to stand up for me to your manager like that,” I tell her while she gets behind the counter to sort things through. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

“No, I’m not going to get in trouble. Ash and I know each other very well and we talk shit to each other all the time. She told me I could always call her out on things I didn’t like,” she explains to me whilst sorting through some papers.

“Oh… okay!” I reply, not entirely sure what to say to that, “You still didn’t have to do that though. I don’t mind polishing guitars, especially if it means I get to spend time with you.” Emily’s face lights up again and I can see her looking at me through her lashes.

“That’s sweet, Charlie, but she still doesn’t get to just pick someone who comes here a lot and tell them to do something. Especially without a contract. You can get into a lot of trouble.” All I heard was “You’re sweet, Charlie”. I don’t really care what else she’d said. I’m sweet.

“Won’t you get into trouble for letting customers in after hours?” I ask instead.

“Do you

want

me to kick you out?” I shake my head vigorously, raising my hands in defense, lifting the guitar in the meantime.  

“I’m just gonna…” I nod to the bench I’d come from.

“Yeah,” she replies, that mischievous smile cracking through her tough façade again.

While she handles a few last customers, I admire her from afar while polishing up the guitars. I can’t help but notice how her smile comes and fades with every customer. It’s her customer-service-smile, I can tell. A smile far from the ones she gives me. I also notice how she strains herself, trying to keep from rolling her eyes too much at annoying customers. Or how her lashes flutter whenever she laughs at something someone has said, which I’m sure is a fake laugh too because it wasn’t that funny. Or how she rubs her nose when she’s concentrating.

“UGH!” she groans when turning the little board to tell customers the store has closed for tonight. “People are so dumb!”

“How have you not punched anyone yet?” I ask her, trying to lighten the mood, but it only lands me a sharp glare. The glare only lasts for a second though, as if it was a reaction to what I said but then she realized who said it and softened.

“I have almost punched someone,” she says with a smirk, “On several occasions. Mostly when they’re middle-aged women, thinking they know what they’re doing.” I can’t help but laugh. I would also nearly punch middle-aged know-it-all women if I punched women.

“I admire your willpower to withhold yourself,” I compliment, which earns me a smile. A real smile. None of her customer-service smiles.

“You can stop polishing now,” she tells me. I open my mouth to tell her I don’t mind, but she stops me. “Please, stop polishing the guitars and play one for me. My work gets done faster with your music in the background.” I can feel my lips curling up at that. Maybe she did miss me the other day when she tuned my guitar.

“I’m actually working on a song,” I say while placing the last polished guitar in its place and taking the black Fender instead. “Maybe you could help me on the parts I think suck?” She opens her mouth, and I know what she’s going to say, so I quickly add, “I know you can’t write with me, but I just want your honest opinion, okay?” Her mouth closes and changes into a smile instead, which then changes into a lip-bite. It nearly sends me.

I strum the guitar and begin playing the chords I’ve been working on for a while now, then I start singing the pre-chorus and the chorus I have so far.

“I wanna fly Come alive Watch me shine”

I watch Emily, who’s smiling while grabbing a broom to start sweeping up the place. I quicken the pace of the song a little.

“I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me”

Before I can continue with what I had, Emily chimes in with something better.

“Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe Been so long and now we're finally free”

I stop playing to reach for my notebook in my backpack.

“That’s way better than what I had,” I tell her, causing her smile to grow.

“What else you got?” she asks, not taking her eyes off the floor as she sweeps, but I know she’s really interested. Otherwise she wouldn’t ask. Emily is the sort of person, I noticed, who would only ask further if interested. If it doesn’t interest her, the conversation is over.

I play the same chords again and sing the next verse, hoping she’d complete it.

“We're all bright now What a sight now Coming out like we're fireworks”

Her voice is a little soft and hesitant, but I still hear it perfectly.

“Marching on proud Turn it up loud Cause now we know what we're worth”

I nod my head excitedly whilst grabbing my notebook again and writing down her lyrics.

“You’re really talented, Emily,” I tell her honestly, then go back to softly stroking the strings of my guitar. “I can’t wait until you let your creative juices out in the world and, you know, write with me. Properly.”

“This is all because of you, Charlie. Your words… I don’t know… They just perfectly flow with what I create in my own mind.” I’m stumped by that response. That’s exactly how I feel too. We fit so well together, songwriting-wise. It’s a pity we can’t do this more often.

“How can I convince you to join our band?” I blurt out without thinking, and it startles her too. At first, I think she’s going to shut me out again, call me Charles again, give me that scowl. Instead, she halts her sweeping and slowly looks up at me.

“I’m not sure… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to think about it.” I don’t think I was this happy when finding out we got a gig, but I jump up from the bench, leave the guitar on it, and run up to her, picking her up into a tight hug.

“I didn’t say yes, Charlie,” she says, laughing loudly. I slowly put her back on the floor. Our faces are inches away from each other. “I didn’t say yes…” she repeats but this time in a whisper. I’ve never seen her from up close like this. Her eyes glimmer and I finally notice the faint freckles decorating her nose and cheeks. My heart thumps in my chest, but all I can do is hope she doesn’t hear or feel.

“I know,” I finally reply, “But thinking about it is a start.” She stares at me for a while like I’m the only person on this planet for her. I’ve never felt anything like this. This feeling of feeling wanted, of feeling seen.

My lips part a little, my lungs not getting enough oxygen through my nose, and as I glance from her eyes to her lips and back, I swear she’s leaning in too. My eyes flutter shut when I see her eyelashes fluttering too. Her breath tickles my lips. It’s almost—

Our lips brush slightly when the bell of the store rings through the entire shop. Emily and I both jump apart, startled, like deer caught in headlights. The redheaded Ash gives us a sheepish smile when she realizes what she’s interrupted.

“I’ve interrupted a special moment, haven’t I?” she hisses, “I’m so sorry!”

“No!” Emily says defensively, which makes me turn my head towards her to see what she has to be all defensive about. “No, you’re fine. Nothing was happening.” Oof, ouch. That hurts.

“Okay…” says Ash, clearly not believing a word Emily says. “I forgot my backpack in the back.” She points to the door behind the counter before actually moving to go and get it.

“You can go home, Charlie. I’ll lock up with Ash,” Emily orders sweetly, suddenly very absent and withdrawn. As if nothing just happened. Like she said.

“Don’t you want me to walk you home?” I suggest, hoping she’ll say yes.

“Uhm, no, that’s fine. I’ll ask Ash for a ride. Thanks though,” she gives me a smile that’s supposed to be comforting, but really isn’t.

“Okay…” I mumble and turn to grab my backpack and place the guitar in its place. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Please, say yes, please, say yes.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” she replies, “I mean, you do have a lot of guitars left to polish.” She points at the wall of guitars, offering me a teasing smile this time. At least she’s not sick of me or doesn’t find it too awkward what just happened a couple seconds ago.

“Right, yeah!” I chuckle, “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Emily.” I raise my hand in a wave and leave the store, hearing her shout a “see you tomorrow, Charlie!” back.

I’ve got no clue what happened just then. But I wanted it to last longer. I wanted it to last forever.

Taglist: @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @hannahhistorian92​ @gingerxarmy​  Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

[pandoraborn]

BORN TO RISE

Chapter 7 (AO3 Link)

Content: Injuries, hospital visit, drugs, mention of bruises, self doubt, SBI family fluff, mention of kidnap Characters: Philza, Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade Word count: 3521 words

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It’s the feeling of fingers in his hair that has him stirring. He’s still half in a dream, and he can imagine those fingers to be from some long-forgotten parent that no longer exists. Tommy imagines a mother singing to him, but the voice whispering to him is too deep to come from a woman. The voice does have the benefit of sounding familiar, so Tommy struggles to blink his eyes open. He’s still far too sleepy to really move around much, but he focuses a blurry gaze on the figure sitting by his bedside.

“Hello, Tommy.” It’s Phil. He’s wearing a gentle smile, and the setting sun coming in behind him is still too bright to be allowed; Tommy’s squinting and turning his head away.

“Phil?” Tommy’s own voice is still too groggy and weak. He’s trying to remember how he ended up here. It’s clearly the hospital, if the sterile aura is anything to judge. He wishes he were at home in his own bed, but at least the hospital bed is comfortable enough for him to stay put for now.

“How’re you feeling, son?” Phil gets up to close the blinds, providing an instant relief. “You’ve been asleep for some time now. Your brothers will be happy to know you’re finally awake.”

Oh. He remembers now. He’d gotten seriously hurt in a training session with Dream. The entire past few days is nothing but a large blur, but Tommy does remember vividly how determined he’d felt toward the end, and how much he still wants to prove himself. It shouldn’t have ended like that.

Flinging an arm across his eyes, he lets out a heavy sigh, not sure what to feel anymore.

“Tommy?” Phil gently moves his arm to the side, and Tommy’s vision blurs again when he sees the concerned expression on Phil’s face. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“No.” It’s mostly true. Aside from minor, vague aches, Tommy can’t feel much. He assumes it’s because of the drugs in his system, and he knows there are drugs. One does not get admitted to the hospital without being dosed with a plethora of painkillers.  “What happened?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me that,” Phil says. “George called me after you and Dream were admitted, and I came as soon as I could.”

“How long was I even here?”

“About a day or so,” Phil responds. “You’ve been asleep. Sedated, I think. The doctor said every time you woke up you cried out of pain. I heard you took a heavy fall.”

Tommy breathes out slowly. He remembers the fall too well. Falling into a ravine, having to tend to Dream, venting his frustrations... “Yeah. It fucking hurt.” He tries to manage a grin, but it feels lopsided, and Tommy can feel the sluggishness weighing him down again. Tommy doesn’t want to sleep though, he wants to stay awake and talk to Phil. After days of not seeing his family, he wants to spend as much time with them as possible.

“Phil, can I ask you something?” Tommy asks. He watches Phil for a reaction, and gets one in the form of a tilted head and a curious hum. “Why did you let them take me?”

“I think this is a line of questions and answers that’s best left for when you’re feeling better.” Phil’s too good at keeping his voice gentle. “I will tell you though, I am proud of you. I heard from Bad that you did great for your first run. I know how much you’ve been wanting a chance to prove yourself. I’m very proud of you.”

Tommy’s eyes water. It’s the words he’d been wanting to hear for ages, but it feels so hollow right now. Like Phil is only proud of him for doing something big, and not just proud of him in general. There’s no energy left to clarify what Phil actually means, but he can guess what the answer is. Tommy realizes that Phil probably wants to hear ‘dad’ just as much as Tommy wants to hear ‘I’m proud’, but Tommy can’t bring himself to say the words.

“I should go to sleep.” Tommy turns away again, letting depression settle over him. Instead of wishing he was back at home, he’s now wishing he could go back out into the plains and practice speedrunning again. His fingers are itching to craft tools and see how fast he can run this time. It’d be far easier now with all that experience and knowledge under his belt; it’d probably even be easy to accomplish it with all three members of the team chasing after him.

“Tommy, listen.” Phil reaches over and pats Tommy’s shoulder. The teen scoots closer unconsciously, not wanting that comfort to end. “I mean it. I’m proud of you, alright? You’re my son. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you don’t do, I’m always going to be proud of you. I don’t say that enough, and you need to hear it.”

“Thank you.” Tommy’s voice is cracked and hushed. Tears are forming, and he hastily tries to wipe them away, telling himself it’s just the drugs in his system, and not actual emotions. “I just…” The words trail off there. His mind blanks out as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and that’s when Tommy knows he needs to go back to sleep. A pitiful expression is thrown toward Phil, who laughs. Phil goes back to threading his fingers through Tommy’s hair, sending the teen into a more relaxed and sleepy state of mind. For the first time in days, Tommy feels safe and comforted.

“Go to sleep Toms. You’ll be able to go home soon. Your brothers will be happy to see you, alright?”

“Mm.” It’s all Tommy can manage now, and before long, he’s asleep. He doesn’t remember his dreams, but that’s alright. He’s with his dad, and that’s what’s most important.

 Whump.

“Tommy, oy.” A finger prods at his cheek, and Tommy swats at it irritatingly. He’d been having a dream about doing parkour in a swimming pool, he’d like to go back to that dream. “Tomathy, wake up.” The finger prods at him again, forcing Tommy to blink his eyes open.

Wilbur’s standing over him. He’s wearing an annoyingly bright smile on his face, the kind that makes Tommy want to shove his brother’s face into a pillow. Groaning, Tommy rolls over onto his stomach, still too out of it to remember he’d already been checked out, and had fallen asleep waiting for a ride.

“You can sleep at home, you know. I’ve come to take you there.” He can hear Wilbur leaning in closer, lowering his voice as well. “This is a dream, Tommy. You’re asleep, and you’re having a dream. You’re dreaming of… of ice cream! You want ice cream. Maybe if you cooperate with me, I’ll buy you some on the way.”

This gets his attention. Pushing himself upright brings a new wave of pain, but Tommy grits his teeth and keeps silent about it. If Wilbur knew Tommy was still hurting, he’d probably try to keep Tommy here a lot longer. Home is far more ideal than the stupid hospital. It’s been what, close to two days now?

“What was that thud earlier?” Tommy grunts. Sitting up makes him feel dizzy. At least Wilbur is nice enough to offer a hand out for him to grip onto. “Did you trip over your own feet again?” He takes the offered hand and tugs on it, pulling himself to his feet. The head rush has Wilbur tightening his grip on Tommy, because he’s dangerously close to falling to the floor.

“It wasn’t a bang, Tommy. I was setting something down on the nightstand.” Wilbur chuckles. “You’re alright, yeah?” The expression on his face is more concern than amusement. Tommy nods without saying anything, though he glances toward the door to indicate where he wants to go.

“Alright.” Wilbur nods in response. He picks up the phone he’d set down. That’s probably the whump he’d heard, it only sounded loud because he’d been asleep. “We’ll get you a milkshake on the way home, alright? You look like you need some.”

“I barely remember anything while here,” Tommy grumbles. “I remember changing a little while ago, and then I guess I fell asleep again.” Oh yeah, his nurse had checked him out already.

“You’re on...I think Phil said a few different painkillers. I’m not surprised you’re feeling loopy right now.” Wilbur puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to steer him out of the room. “Also, I already grabbed everything that belongs to you. All that’s left is to go home.”

“Where’s Phil?”

“He had to run a few errands today. He should be at home by the time we get there, so don’t you worry.” He guides Tommy out of the room, down the hall, and toward the exit. Wilbur only lets go of Tommy to open the doors for him, before guiding him out to the car.

Tommy sits and stares at himself in the rear-view mirror. He’s still a mess: covered with bandages and bruises that are fading, but still visible. He looks high, clearly still on pain medication and it visibly shows in the way his eyes are drooping and bloodshot. Turning the mirror away, Tommy resigns himself to staring out the window during the drive.

As promised, Wilbur does stop to get him a milkshake. It’s chocolate, which is okay with Tommy, though he would have preferred something more fun to drink. At the very least, it’s something he can remember putting into his mouth. By the time they arrive home, Tommy’s already mostly finished drinking it. It’s not solid food, but Tommy’s not feeling very hungry anyway. He’d rather go to bed and sleep off whatever drugs are still in his system.

It takes a few moments for him to get out of the car and inside the house. He stops right in the entry, glaring at the house in general. Everything comes rushing back to him; he’d gone to bed one night, and woke up in the middle of a forest. No one had bothered to come looking for him? Had all three of them known where he was the whole time?

He remembers the strange looks he’d gotten from Wilbur and Techno his last night here. Of course they knew. Phil had known. Phil had given permission for Dream to kidnap him. Did that mean his brothers had given that same permission?

Anger rushes through him, stronger than any exhaustion or pain. No longer is he leaning against Wilbur, now he’s pulling himself away stiffly. His trust in his own family is shattered; they’d put him in danger.

“Tommy?” Wilbur sounds concerned. It seems to click a second later, because he clicks his tongue. “Shit. Phil?”

“I’m here!” Phil calls out. He appears in view a second later, wearing a grin on his face. The smile wilts when he sees the furious expression on Tommy’s face. “Hi, Toms. Welcome home, are you alright?”

“You let them take me,” Tommy says flatly. “You knew what they were up to, you knew they were going to kidnap me, and you didn’t tell me.”

Phil lets out a heavy sigh. “You just arrived home. Come sit down, please. I owe you a conversation.”

“I don’t want to have a conversation,” Tommy mutters. “I want to go to bed.”

Wilbur makes the decision for him, by pushing him toward Phil. Tommy stumbles, but Phil is quick to grab at him. “Wil, don’t push him around like that. Tommy, please sit and talk to me.”

Tommy tries to pull back, but Phil tightens his grip on him, guiding him toward the sofa. Sitting down, Tommy squeezes himself into the corner of the couch, glaring at the ground.

“I knew you wanted it,” Phil starts off. “I don’t have any other way to excuse my actions, but we all knew you would want it. You like trying to prove yourself.”

“So you let him kidnap me?”

“The focus shouldn’t be on that,” Phil says. “You’re right, I should have talked to you before it happened, you should have been able to go willingly. We know you though, you’re too afraid to take risks when we all know you’re dying for a chance to rise above us. We can tell it’s got you down.”

Hunching forward, Tommy scrubs at his face. His breathing is quickening, causing his chest to tighten, and he knows he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m never going to be better than any of you,” he admits. “You three are legends. I’m just some dumb-”

“Hey.” Wilbur’s speaking now, Tommy can feel him drop on the couch next to him. “You’re not a dumb kid, alright? You never give yourself any sort of credit, so yeah… we messed up by not talking to you about Dream’s hand beforehand. That’s entirely our fault.”

Tommy grips the edge of Wilbur’s sleeve, realizing he desperately needs some sort of comfort. All his defenses are starting to break down, leaving him feeling vulnerable and helpless, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep the tears at bay.

“I just… I just want to be good,” he whispers. “I’m useless, I’m reckless, and they...I hurt Dream. He’s never gonna talk to me again.”

Wilbur responds by wrapping both arms around Tommy. “Hey, you’re not useless, you’re a damned prodigy. You’re my brother, Tommy. You’re so much better than you’ve ever given yourself credit for. You work hard, you play harder, and you’ve had so many shining moments in the championships. Why are you so hard on yourself?”

He curls into his older brother, letting the dam break. It’s hard to speak for the longest time, though Wilbur is helping by rocking him back and forth. There are so many ways to explain where he went wrong, but the words aren’t coming easily.

Though Phil seems to understand well enough to take a very accurate guess.

“Is it because you feel like you have to compete with us?” Phil asks. “Something about not being good enough, because I adopted you?”

“Oh, Tommy’s home?” Techno’s voice drifts down from upstairs. Tommy immediately pulls away from Wilbur, wiping at his eyes. He can be soft around Wilbur, but Techno is even more of a legend. They love each other, sure, but Techno’s name is the biggest in the league, Tommy still feels intimidated by him, even now. “Heyy, Tommy!” Techno appears at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a thin-lipped smile on his face. “Heard you were coming home from the hospital today… are you crying?”

“Shut up Blade,” Tommy mutters, turning his body away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“He’s having an inferiority complex,” Wilbur stage-whispers. Tommy swats him in the shoulder for that, earning a giggle for his efforts.

“I am not,” Tommy snaps. “We’re talking about how you all fucked up and betrayed me.” He shoots his tongue out at Wilbur, but wilts at the look Phil is throwing at him. “...maybe a little talk about how I’m not good enough for this family.”

“Bruh, you got Dream’s attention,” Techno points out. “Dream doesn’t up and recruit just anyone. I had to chase him down at one of the championships to get his attention.” He rolls his eyes, but sits on the floor in front of Tommy. “If you’re good enough for Dream, you’re good enough for us.” He sounds so confident. It’s so easy for Techno to be confident, he’s a god among gods. There’s no hope of Tommy ever coming close to catching up to his level of skill. At least, that’s what’s currently on his mind.

He rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand. “It’s my fault Dream and I ended up in the hospital,” Tommy reminds him. “Everyone says it behind my back, when they think I can’t hear them. That I don’t listen, I’m too loud, too reckless. Or worse, even too bossy. I’ve heard people say I talk over all three of you too much and that’s why I drag everyone down.”

“Are you seriously taking all that to heart?” Wilbur asks. “Tommy, everyone talks crap about everyone else.”

If this is meant to be reassuring, it’s not working. Tommy buries his face in the arm of the sofa with a dramatic wail.

“Okay no, that’s not what I meant. Let me backup a few sentences.” Wilbur chuckles, but grabs at Tommy’s arm to pull him upright. “Tommy, look at me. Are you looking?”

Tommy faces him, then looks past him at Phil, then finally turns his gaze down toward Techno. All three of them are here, and whatever Wilbur’s about to say has to be important, because they’re all here, and they’re all being so nice to him. It’s overwhelming, because he can’t remember the last time the four of them had sat down for a serious conversation like this.

“Tommy. You’re our brother, you’re Philza’s son. You have to stop comparing yourself to us, you have to stop trying to live up to an impossible standard. It’s impossible to reach because not even we are up there. Not even Dream is up there. You know us, you know us more than you think you do. You know Dream, and Sapnap, and Bad and George now. What have you learned from your time with us, and with them?”

“...Sapnap was kind of a dick,” Tommy mutters, once he thinks everything over. “Bad was annoying, and like...Dream was... “

“They’re human,” Wilbur finishes for him. “We’re all human. We’re not super gods or unreachable. You can’t keep trying to measure up, because there’s nothing to measure up to. You’re already there.”

“Yeah, like. Tommy, c’mon.” Techno starts laughing. His approach seems more lukewarm than Wilbur’s, but Tommy can hear the care in his voice all the same. “You’re really good in the championships. You brought up all the negativity surrounding you, but you’re completely brushing over what good things people’ve said too. You’re a great leader, you fight hard, and you’re really good at taking people down. You’re seriously a force to be reckoned with. If you were really that bad, I don’t think Dream would have picked you out of the crowd.”

“It’s not Dream, is it?” Phil asks quietly.

Tommy shakes his head, confirming their suspicions.

“Oh, Tommy.” Phil breathes lightly. “Of course we love you. You’re more than enough for us. There is no ‘good enough’ or whatever you’ve gotten in your head over the past few days.”

“I want to prove myself.” His voice is shaky, but he’s not crying as hard anymore. “You…you’ve never said you were proud of me. I never knew why you adopted me, I just felt like I had to go into competitions and... and I just…”

“I adopted you because I liked the charisma you had,” Phil says. “And still have. You were a little boy who laughed in spite of the hardships in life, and I wanted your spark to brighten my own life. I never intended to force you into anything. I love you as you. Whatever you do with your life has to be your decision, I’ll be proud of you regardless.”

“You mean it? All of you?” Tommy sits up straighter now. A weight feels like it’s been lifted off his chest and shoulders, and while it’s a nice feeling, it doesn’t change the fact that Dream probably won’t talk to him again.

“Of course. And if you’re still worried about Dream and his team, I can give them a call for you. Perhaps we can arrange another training session, with your permission this time. I’ll not make that same mistake again.”

Tommy nods, finally. He’s ready to go to bed, feeling wiped out all over again. “Yeah. Thanks… dad. I love you too.”

“You called him dad!” Wilbur cheers. “You actually called him dad!”

It takes a minute for Tommy to remember he’d always avoided that word for whatever reason. This conversation had been more therapeutic than he’d expected, so he slumps back against the couch. He’s too tired to really pay attention anymore. Phil’s reaction is hard to miss though; the man looks surprised and near tears himself.

Phil’s clearly happy about the sudden shift in mood though. He’s doing a good job of hiding it as he gets to his feet, moving around Wilbur and Techno to reach for Tommy. “You seem sleepy,” Phil points out. “Why don’t you have a sleep and relax for a few days? We’ll get in touch with Dream and see if we can’t try again?” Tommy nods at the offer. Getting to his feet, he leans against Phil, letting his father guide him upstairs and to his room.

This time, Tommy doesn’t have to worry about waking up somewhere strange. He feels whole and light, much better than he remembers ever feeling. With his family behind him and cheering him on, he’s pretty sure nothing can drag him down again.