#and then their kid is aloud to do the same thing in 17 years

[prideprejudce]

the whole ariana grande and ethan slater mess just proves my ongoing theory that even though everyone assumes that it’s attractive men you have to worry about trusting in relationships - in reality it’s the medium ugly ones that you have to really look out for. medium ugly men will live with you, marry you, have a baby with you, and then as soon as another woman throws him even a crumb of positive attention will gladly drop you like a hot potato with zero remorse or second thoughts

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty-Nine — The Warm Hands of Ghosts

Everyone was hooked up to tubes, IVs or cannulas hanging from their body as they got the treatment necessary to keep them comfortable.  How long would it be till I was hooked up to wires?

3.6k words | 13-17 min read time | TRIGGER WARNING: Hospital, illness, fuck them OCs, hyp...notism?

⚠️AUTHOR'S NOTE: once again, thank you @lobotomizedlemon for giving me god's greatest disappointment to man. I would kill for Sia. And to @infamoussparks for letting Rosa be Bad News Bear here!

To the other person that's been patiently waiting for this moment for over a year (I checked the PMs! We started talking about this last July!) — I love you.

I thought palliative care meant something for kids, like pediatrics. 

I had no idea it basically meant making people comfortable enough to suffer. 

Now, to be fair, that wasn’t all the wing did; it actually seemed really cozy, in a strange way—or as comfortable as an in-patient hospital wing could be. Stock photographs of nature littered the blank walls between room doors, and the doors that were open revealed blued rooms decorated with white furniture, picture frames of family pinned to the walls and personal belongings all around the room. There was one old lady with a bed covered in fuzzy pink pillows, another had dozens of plants on the windowsill in theirs. Everyone was hooked up to tubes, IVs or cannulas hanging from their body as they got the treatment necessary to keep them comfortable. 

How long would it be till I was hooked up to wires?

I tried to shake the thought out of my head, following Aunt Sia and Dr. Sims deeper into the wing, the both of them tensely silent. Whatever crowds were in front of us parted with Aunt Sia’s stomps and stayed staring at Dad; I know I’d probably do the same, if I saw some woman in a blazer with spikes glued to the shoulder and chains decoratively falling from it leading Delsin Rowe and Eugene Sims down a hall. 

We probably looked like the world’s strangest funeral procession. 

The hall jutted right, and we moved with it, all the way to where the light the windows let in couldn’t reach. The last door on the right had stuff plastered on it, and it took till being right at the door to realize they were warnings. “‘Wear mirror glasses provided upon shift assignment,’” Brent read aloud, staring at the clipart picture of the black ski goggles like they were runes before looking at me, eyebrows raised. 

Dr. Sims reached into his jacket’s pocket to pull out a handful of black disposable glasses, the sort that Reese came to school in after an eye procedure. “Here, put these on,” he instructed, beginning to pass them out. 

Aunt Sia instead pulled a pair of modified steampunk-looking goggles, slipping them over her eyes and then regarding Dad, Brent and I individually. “Listen—keep those on.” She stressed. “I know this Conduit personally. They may seem like they’re not fully there, but that doesn’t make them any less powerful. And, hey—it’s them. They, them.”

“What the hell do you two have me walking into?” Dad tried to joke, looking between the childhood besties. Neither laughed. 

“Let’s get in the room first,” Dr. Sims muttered, trying to position the blackened glasses over his own. I followed their lead, trying to fit the awkwardly flimsy film over my nose before looking up at everyone and nodding, feeling like an idiot. What sort of power did I need to wear glasses against? Maybe this was one of the light Conduits Zeke talked about.

The inside of the room was adorned in pink and green. I think that was the first thing that shocked me—the brightness of the room. The wood and dull blue visitor’s chair was covered by a strawberry quilt freckled in green squares, there were little succulents on the dresser across from the bed. There were long, sheer green scarfs hung over the curtain rods in their own protest against the sterile-hospital white, and an old stuffed fox sat slouched over on the windowsill like it was trying to get the sun to hit a specific spot on its lower back. 

And the bed. It was still a stiff and uncomfortable looking hospital bed, but someone tried making it anything but. A large, fluffy blush pink down comforter was draped over the too-small bed, engulfing the small form that was laid in it. Their arm laid over a green rectangular throw pillow, IV embedded in the hand lying listless on top. They stared off into a corner of the room but it…didn’t look intentional. It didn’t look like much was behind the stare at all. Wires fell from the sleeves of their shirt to the bed around them, the steady thrum of a heartbeat monitor puncturing the silence with its rhythm. 

The red-headed doctor, Hutch, was there, looking closely at the patient’s monitor and only turning when the door was closed. “The nurses aren’t fond of me being here, so we’ll need to be quick.” she said. 

Dr. Sims huffed. “Why not?”

“Considering I usually don’t stray far from pediatrics, they see me as overstepping.” Dr. Hutch responded. 

Aunt Sia wasted no time in closing the gap between her and the patient in the bed, one hand going to hold the one laying on the pillow while the other touched their frayed braid, looking for a hair tie that was no longer there. “Hey, sweet pea,” she hummed softly like a mother at a cradle, fingers brushing knots out of their long reddish brown hair. They barely moved, not acknowledging Aunt Sia with a look or with words. 

Brent, ever so tactful, decided now would be the perfect time to ask, ��So what’s wrong with them?”

“Dude!” I hissed.

“What? I’m just asking–”

“I know them.” Dad’s voice was soft as the statement passed his lips. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his brows were knit so close together and furrowed that they started disappearing behind his film glasses. He looked at the back of Aunt Sia’s head, who stopped combing through their hair. “Why does it feel like I know them?”

Aunt Sia sighed, moving her hand away from their hair to gently cup their face, thumb running along their jaw. Another move they didn’t react to. “Garrett, Delsin’s here—remember him?” 

Something shifted in Dad, and his shoulders visibly sagged. “Garrett?” he asked. “That’s Garrett?” 

I glanced at Brent, who was already facing my way with an eyebrow raised. Who was this person? Why did Dad look so shocked, so sad, to see Garrett in that bed?

“I apologize,” Dr. Hutch cautiously chimed in. “But…if you don’t mind…”

She left the question open ended, looking across the bed to Aunt Sia, who nodded after a pause. “You’ve got my permission,” she said, letting her hand fall from Garrett’s face to instead take their hand in both of hers. 

Dr. Hutch reached out, resting her hand on the bare skin of Garrett’s bicep, glancing between where they met and the small vial in her other hand. Why did she ask Aunt Sia if she could examine Garrett? They looked almost the same age. I thought you only needed someone’s permission for hospital stuff if you were still a kid. 

Dr. Hutch’s lips moved silently as she counted to herself, looking between the tube of black tar and the air around Garrett. We stood in tense silence as the seconds passed, Dr. Hutch’s face grew from studious, to sad, to worried before she pocketed the vial and looked at Dad. “May I check Jean one more time?” she asked him. 

It took Dad a moment to force his head to turn away from the bed to look back at me. He motioned forward, a silent beckon to go to the doctor, and I listened, swapping my dominant hand for my left at the last second so she wouldn’t have to worry about my cast. 

Dr. Hutch took my hand, staring straight at me in such an uncomfortable way that I let my eyes fall to the ground, listening to the little puffs of air she let off with every silent count and subconsciously counting with her. She hit ten, and I raised my head to watch her stare at the air around me before clearing her throat, letting go of both Garrett and I. “Dr. Sims, if I may have a moment with you?” She asked, motioning towards the door. He nodded, passing Brent to head out while Dr. Hutch looked between Dad and I. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said genuinely. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say more, but she faltered, instead giving us both a nod before moving around me to leave the room. 

The door closing seemed to activate something in Dad, because he spun around to look at Aunt Sia, and while I couldn’t see his eyes, his jaw was tense. “You didn’t think to warn me about who we were going to see before coming here?” He asked Aunt Sia.

She seemed a bit miffed. “Well, considering you left without telling them goodbye, I just figured you two weren’t all that close.”

Dad immediately bristled. “I didn’t have a choice,” he retorted, eyes aflame. “You know that.”

Brent, deciding to diffuse whatever was about to happen, slightly raised his hand like he was in class, asking without waiting, “So, who exactly is this?” 

Dad glanced back, eyes hesitating on where I stood in the meantime, and seemed to remember we were in the room with him. “They’re…They were a therapist of mine, I guess.” He said. “After your mom…we were hunkered down in Seattle for about two months while the government tried to fight my enrollment into witness protection during the trials. They tried to help me.”

So the person in the bed was his…therapist? 

Dad turned to look at Aunt Sia again, who grabbed the bedside chair to scoot it closer to Garrett. “What happened, though?” 

She sighed. “Curdun happened,” she said at first, as if that explained everything. But then she readjusted, flicking a corner of the quilt off of her leg as it fell with her movement. “They’d been bad for a while. It started maybe a year after you left? They…they tried toughing it out on their own for a while, but it got worse, so much worse. They called me about seven years ago asking if I’d help them. Make sure they were taken care of before this happened.”

“That’s why you left.” Dad realized. Seven years ago, this person asked for her help. Seven years ago, she moved. “You said you were leaving to oversee COLE openings on the east coast.”

“I was.” Aunt Sia said. “But I also needed to be here to help with their care. They needed someone to sign off on documents when they…” she motioned at them in the bed, the unfocused eyes and slack jaw. 

Dad’s head shook, and he almost seemed annoyed at the lack of answers. “This—they have conducrinopathy. Like Jean. What caused that?”

“When they were in Curdun, they were given an implant right—” Aunt Sia raised a hand somewhere near her temple, “—around here. It completely hindered their powers while they were in there, and stayed in after they got out.”

“You can do that?” Brent asked, genuinely shocked. 

“Augustine figured out how.” Aunt Sia responded curtly, tension in her voice. “It may not have worked fully, but it worked well enough. They weren’t able to do anything to the normal degree of their power.”

Dad had slowly begun to shake his head in the middle of Aunt Sia’s sentence, like he didn’t agree with her despite her conviction. “No, that doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Garrett, they—I knew them after Curdun. Their powers were working fine then!” 

“You saw who they were after the implant failed to keep them powerless,” Aunt Sia said softly. “But it did something, and they started getting bad. They…we thought the implant just affected their motor skills for a bit, and then they started forgetting. Seeing things. Eugene was the first to suggest it might be conducrinopathy. We’ve been trying to figure it out since.”

Dad opened his mouth to speak, and was instead immediately interrupted by Dr. Sims reentering the room, followed by a snow-covered and eyeglass-wearing Zeke. Dad’s mood immediately shifted, something Zeke could sense as well as he went on the offensive. “We’ve got news vans pulling up right now,”

“What?” Dad hissed, brushing past Brent and moving to the window on my left. He pressed his face against the glass, head swinging both ways before he cursed under his breath. “Can’t see shit,”

“The main entrance is to the southwest,” Dr. Sims grumbled, evidently not excited about being cornered at a hospital again. “We need to start putting a face mask on you when we’re in public, Delsin.”

Aunt Sia sighed. “It probably doesn’t help that we’re both here as well, Eugene.” She reminds him. “There’s a lot of animosity for us right now, too.”

Not to mention me. 

I let my head hang, looking at the patterns in the flooring as Dad asked, “What’s going on, you two? Why are we here? What happened to Garrett?”

There was a pause as Dr. Sims and Aunt Sia looked at each other, having some sort of silent conversation on who should actually answer Dad’s question. It seemed Dr. Sims lost the mental game of rock-paper-scissors, as he cleared his throat and said, “When I started the conducrinopathy study a few years ago, Jorrer was already showing symptoms of Lewy-Body dementia—but there were some preceding symptoms that were worrisome. We could never get many answers on why or how…until now.”

Aunt Sia turned when he said that, and Dad glanced between the two of them. “What do you mean?”

“We didn’t know if Garrett’s conducrinopathy was caused by their disease, or the implant, or somehow both. And with them being the only other prime Conduit to experience it, we needed to see if their manifestations were related in any way.” Dr. Sims paused, moving to cross his arms. “Dr. Hutch was able to confirm that, whatever it is in the tar that made Jean sick is what made Jorrer ill too.”

“What?” Aunt Sia whispered, aghast. 

Dad shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Dr. Sims reached into the pocket of his top coat, pulling out that goddamn vial of tar. “The aural signatures on this match both Jean and Jorrer.”

“That can’t—” Aunt Sia struggled with her words for a moment. “Garrett was never injected with anything. What do you mean their illness is related to the tar?”

Dad scoffed. “Augustine’s really at the center of this.” He began to pace, running a hand over his face before spinning around to face Dr. Sims. “Is that why those assholes broke her out of Curdun?”

“We still know nothing about the implant they were given,” Dr. Sims reminded them both. “We can’t examine it without extensive surgery that I’m not even sure Jorrer would survive—“

“An implant?” Zeke looked at Dr. Sims like that word mattered, obviously trying to grapple with information past.

Dr. Sims’ brow furrowed. “Yes, when—when Jorrer was in custody with the DUP, they placed an implant in their brain. We assumed for the longest time that that’s what caused their decline—”

“Did nobody plan on telling me about any of this?” Dad demanded, looking angered. 

“When Cole was snatched up by Moya, she was going to put an implant in his head.” Zeke said. “He said DARPA wanted to control him and his powers.”

“They what?” Aunt Sia nearly demanded as Dad decided that was a good enough statement to give Zeke attention, turning to actually face the man. 

“Do you know anything else?” Dr. Sims asked, moving to set the vial of tar on the overbed table to my left and instead pull out his phone. I barely caught him opening his notes app before he left to stand next to Zeke, beginning to fire questions at a rapid pace. 

Everyone kept talking over each other, the sound more like arguing than trying to solve whatever mystery was at their hands. Brent was falling silent on my side, and I couldn’t blame him—especially as we both looked at Garrett Jorrer. God, was that going to be me? Trapped in a bed and held down by tubing, not able to acknowledge the world around me? 

Well, no, that wasn’t true; as Dad and the other adults got a bit loud trying to talk over each other, I watched Garrett shift, readjust like they wanted to move away from the sound. Dr. Sims said something about them having dementia, right? I didn’t really get how it worked, but…there was still a person under there. They could have lucid moments, I was sure of it. Maybe it just needed a little prompting. 

I moved to step forward, Brent shooting out a hand to grab me by the arm and whisper, “The fuck are you doing?”

“They’ve gotta know something,” I murmured back, glancing over at the adults; they were all standing in a circle, more concentrated on whatever Dr. Sims was pulling up on his phone than us. “I’m gonna see if they can tell me anything.”

“They’re drooling on their shirt.” He deadpanned. “You really think they’re gonna answer any questions for you?”

I shrugged off his hold. “If what Dr. Sims said is true, they’ve been sick for a while. And if it happened in Curdun? Whatever made them sick would have happened before Mom’s, even if it took longer for them to show it. They’ve gotta know something.”

“We don’t know if Mom had the same sickness you did,” Brent hissed back in a whisper. “It’s not like we can test her.”

“No, but—” I cut off, “Process of elimination here, Brent. Every forced Conduit from Curdun ends up sick, two normal Conduits end up sick—and then I end up sick after meeting Augustine? There’s a common denominator.”

I kept his gaze, unwavering; he had to admit it was weird. It was! Something was going on and Augustine was at the core of it. Brent’s jaw flexed but he let me go, seeming entirely uncomfortable with the idea but relenting nonetheless. I broke from the place Dr. Hutch left me in and got closer to the bed, crouching beside it. 

And I faltered, because I had no idea how to even start shooting questions at someone so cognitively impaired. 

Garrett’s head was turned away from the noise now, staring indiscriminately at the floor beside me. They looked…uncomfortable, and I could imagine why. I actually felt pretty bad trying to pull something out of them when they were obviously hating how many people were in the room at the moment. “Hi,” I decided to say, keeping my voice soft. A greeting was the best way to start, right? Probably an introduction too. “I-I’m Jean.”

Nothing. 

My mouth grappled on air for a second as I tried to find more words. “I…I don’t know if you can really understand me right now, but you might know what’s wrong with me. With us. And if you can…if you can tell us anything about it, that would really help.”

Nothing. 

I looked over at Dad, who was busy trying to pull more answers about Garrett’s past from Aunt Sia and Dr. Sims, head swiveling over to Zeke as he asked if he knew more about DARPA. I hated seeing it. I hated knowing that we were both unknown variables treated like volatile solutions that would explode if jostled. Maybe they hated it too. “Look, you were in Curdun Cay, right? My—Alessia said something about an implant. And there’s some doctor here who thinks that whatever made me sick did it to you, too.” 

I turned, grabbing the vial from their rolling table and putting it in their line of vision. I didn’t want everyone talking about what was going on with them without involving them. It was unfair. I know I hated it.

The tar in the vial moved like syrup—and I watched Garrett as their eyes tracked it. They were starting to understand something, I just needed to keep pushing. “This is what was put in me,” I continued, a bit more feverish now. Did lucidity in these sorta patients have a timer? “Augustine put it in me, and I think she did the same to you. She—” I reached out with my dominant hand and took theirs gently, letting them feel the awkward press of my cast’s lattice. “She did this, do you—”

“Jean!” Dad snapped, making me jolt in place, “What are you doing?”

I blinked, confused; everyone was now turned to look at me and, aside from Brent, they all looked…scared? “I’m…” I drew off, glancing between Dad and Aunt Sia, who had started to walk towards the bed with her hands out like she was placating a wild animal. “I’m just trying to talk to them, see if—”

I wasn’t prepared for the yank on my arm. 

Garrett’s fingers laced around my wrist and pulled me forward, the move sending me sprawling forward as I lost balance on the balls of my feet. With one hand pinned in theirs and the other holding glass, I had to use my elbow to brace my fall, the jostle enough to light up a nerve hiding in the crevices of my bone and send the film glasses fluttering off of my face. I followed their fall, eyes only peeling away to look at the white-knuckled grip Garrett had on my wrist before glancing up, blood running cold when I saw how hard Garrett was staring at me.

Their eyes were this marbled blue, the sort of hue you expect a diamond to actually be, and the moment I met them, everything around me ceased to exist. The pain from my funny bone disappeared, Aunt Sia yelling my name left—all that existed was that blue. 

The shade spread, tunneling my vision into the icy hue before the edges turned platinum, and I lost all sense of where I was. 

Love you @neverdewitt

[lazaruswitch]

Conversation really shouldn't be this difficult, all things considered, like the fact that Damian's brother was apparently only like, an year older than her, and also part Crime Alley kid. In her defense, Damian's brother was fucking weird and off-putting, especially for an alleged 17 year old.

For one, he glowed weirdly at random intervals, and in different colors, like roiling green but also fiery red or bright yellow-white, but only when she was never looking right at him. But she can't talk about it because Damian will flip his shit.

And then there's the swords. Physical and not. Because he had a bunch of fancy swords from the League but could also conjure magical fire swords from nowhere. But she can't talk about it, because Damian will flip his shit.

Freakiest of all might be that Bruce kept being weird about playing nice? Not antagonizing him? Not pushing for information? Which was just, fucking, crazy. THE Batman, trying to respect boundaries or some shit, and for Talia al Ghul's mysterious older secret kid who was definitely hiding something. Literally where did all the bat habits and paranoia go?

But she can't talk about it, because then he got even more weird, and then would basically try to gaslight her, she's pretty sure. She'd think he was like, possessed, except he was his usual self literally any time else. It was only when teenage al Ghul came up or was involved that he got like that.

There was definitely something going on without her knowing, and she was definitely being kept out of the loop. Per usual. Fuckers.

Worst of all - mostly because this was the most inane but it'd been driving her mad since she accidentally stumbled across the guy and kicked off this whole mess - Crime Alley al Ghul walked like he was Yasmeen Ghauri's kid or something. Like sure, the haircut and occasional facial expression or side eye was more remixed Shalom Harlow, but that walk was basically a much more improved version of her attempts to emulate the tigress strut in middle school.

But she can't talk about it because Damian will Really flip his shit. For a not-even-preteen he was way too sensitive and defensive over his absent teenage brother.

All in all, she'd rather not be the one stuck here making nice with - fuck she didn't even know his name - Damian's brother, but she was, and it was very tense, and felt kinda like babysitting, and she's not really sure what he's doing in Gotham at all to begin with, but like. Whatever.

It's not like anyone ever told her anything or recognized her skills, even though she was the one to see the guy when no one else ever caught even a hint of his presence in the city. This situation was hardly new in that light. Fuckers.

Nevertheless, keeping quiet and confused helps no one, so.

Icebreakers. How to break the ice? Maybe if she made nice she could get something out of this guy, seeing as no one else would ever give it to her straight. Fuckers.

"So," Stephanie began awkwardly. Damian's brother glanced at her. "Uh, what's with the Shalom Harlow look?"

He blinked, and she blinked, and then his eyes narrowed and he yanked down the mask that always covered his face.

(Which, hey another stupid thing that made him weird, this guy's face was always covered and no one knew what he looked like, and Bruce just fucking left it alone. But she can't talk about it.)

(On that note, wow, ok, yeah, this guy was definitely 17. The fancy coat and hidden face and shadow lurking bullshit made him seem older but that was a high school face if she's ever seen one. Maybe if she got a fancy coat she'd get taken seriously.)

"Shalom Harlow my fucking ass, what do you mean Shalom Harlow?" he snapped. "I don't look anything like her. Shalom Harlow. Ridiculous."

Damian inflects the same way, mused Stephanie, but aloud she said, "Technically you're more like an off brand imitation Shalom Harlow."

"Why the fuck would you say that -"

[blueindigo17]

WIP intro: Never Have We Ever

An introduction to my first WIP ever!!

Pinterest board -> Never Have We Ever

Spotify playlist -> Never Have We Ever

Summary: Liz has the best friends a girl could ask for. Harley, Mikey, and Natasha have been her people since elementary school, and Trevor and Amanda since middle school. Their whole lives, things have been pretty much the same. Same kids in their classes every year. Same streets between the same houses. Same, same, same.

At the end of her freshman year of high school, just about when Liz is wondering how much same she could possibly handle, she catches Trevor’s eye as he laughs at someone’s joke, and something deep inside her lights up. Something she doesn’t know what to do with. Something she can't push back down once it comes barreling up to the surface.

So much for same.

After that, things can’t stop changing. And not just in her own life—her friend group starts pulling apart at the seams. Harley begins withdrawing from everyone with no explanation. Mikey gets in bigger trouble with his dad than ever. Natasha only has a year before she has to move off to college. Amanda is stuck between the person she is and the person the world wants her to be. Trevor seems to have gotten off easy, but Liz can’t be around him for more than a minute without falling head over heels all over again.

In this collection of short stories, Liz has to wonder if the change of pace she thought she wanted is worth it. Sometimes it’s hard to be brave, and she’s never been the most open to change, but unfortunately, that does not stop it from happening. The only question is: what is she going to do about it?

Genres: short stories, realistic fiction, young adult, coming of age, contemporary

Themes: found family, first crushes, dealing with change, growing up, maintaining friendships

Character Introductions

(all photos found on Pinterest)

Elizabeth "Liz" Katelyn Stanton 🩵

"Emma met a boy with eyes like a man. Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand." - When Emma Falls In Love, Taylor Swift

Nicknames: Liz, loser (from Harley)

Age: 15, turns 16

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: straight

Birthday: September 4th

Star sign: Virgo

Friends: Harley, Mikey, Natasha, Trevor, Amanda

Crush: Trevor

Family: Elle (mom), Kevin, (dad), Aiden (younger brother, 13)

Occupation: high school sophomore, summer camp counselor, works part time at Ivy Bookstore

Liz may appear reserved and quiet to the average person, but one could only dream of being lucky enough to witness her joy at describing her favorite constellations, or listening to her rave on and on about the book she just finished. She's only a sophomore, but she's already making plans for her future career in astronomy. She tends to get her head stuck in the clouds, but there's one person she always knows can bring her back down to earth... ❤️

Harley James Wilson 💚

“20 questions, you tell the truth. Been stressed out lately, yeah me too.” - It’s Nice To Have A Friend, Taylor Swift

Nicknames: loser (from Liz)

Age: 15, turns 16

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: aroace

Birthday: July 13th

Star sign: Cancer

Friends: Liz, Mikey, Natasha, Trevor, Amanda

Family: Jessica (mom)

Occupation: high school sophomore

As much as he tries, Harley can't help but wear his heart on his sleeve. He might not say it aloud as much as his friends do, but he would go to the absolute ends of the earth for them. The apartment is quiet most of the time--it's just him and his mom, after all--so he fills the room with music. "I don't know. Writing songs just... makes me feel lighter..."

Michael “Mikey” Andrew Miller 💛

“You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking. If you knew where I was walking: to a house, not a home, all alone ‘cause nobody’s there.” - Dear Reader, Taylor Swift

Nicknames: Mikey

Age: 16, turns 17

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: irrelevant

Birthday: November 23rd

Star sign: Sagittarius

Friends: Liz, Harley, Natasha, Trevor, Amanda

Family: Jenny (mom), Neil (dad)

Occupation: high school junior

Mikey is wholly agreed as the funniest member of the group. He's got something clever to say in response to almost anything, and there are very few things he'd rather do than make his friends laugh. He's well aware of it too, because it's the easiest way to pretend that everything behind closed doors is just fine. It's nothing to worry about, really. He just has a... strained relationship with his dad. That's what he calls it. He's fine. It's fine...

Natasha Diana Knightley 💜

“I can’t let this go. I fight with you in my sleep. The wound won’t close. I keep on waiting for a sign.” - Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve, Taylor Swift

Nicknames: Tasha

Age: 17, turns 18

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: straight

Birthday: January 31st

Star sign: Aquarius

Friends: Liz, Harley, Mikey, Trevor, Amanda

Family: Isaac (dad), Nylah (younger sister, 7), Alana (younger sister, 6), Jonah (baby brother, 2), Kiera (mom)

Occupation: high school senior, summer camp counselor, part of a tutor group at the library

Natasha's got it all figured out. She studies hard and has the grades to show for it, she's mastered the art of getting her little siblings exactly where they need to go exactly on time, and somehow she is still able to spend time with her friends. Since her mom left the picture, a lot more responsibility has been put on her, but she's practically the poster child for taking things in stride. The one thing she hasn't figured out quite yet is how to do it all without stressing herself sick...

Trevor Steven Marshall ❤️

“Now he’ll be her shelter when it rains. Little does he know, his whole world’s about to change.” - When Emma Falls In Love, Taylor Swift

Age: 15, turns 16

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: straight

Birthday: August 13th

Star sign: Leo

Friends: Liz, Harley, Mikey, Natasha, Amanda

Crush: Liz

Family: Julia (mom), Adam (dad), Audrey (older sister, 18)

Occupation: high school sophomore, summer camp assistant

Trevor is particularly good at noticing things. It's probably what drew him to photography, and definitely why he's gotten so good at it, but the effect it has on his interactions with Liz are overwhelming. She could be simply existing in the same space as him, and he wouldn't even notice if the ground opened up underneath him. It's enamoring, but it's also pretty inconvenient given that, well, he's him. He couldn't possibly be her type, right...?

Amanda Felicity Renee Hamilton 🩷

"And they tell you that you're lucky, but you're so confused 'cause you don't feel pretty. You just feel used." - The Lucky One (Taylor's Version), Taylor Swift

Nicknames: Mandy

Age: 15, turns 16

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual

Birthday: February 14th

Star sign: Aquarius

Friends: Liz, Harley, Mikey, Natasha, Trevor

Family: Nancy (mom), John (dad), Erick (older brother, 20), Mackenzie (older sister, 20)

Occupation: high school sophomore, works part time at Ivy Bookstore

Amanda doesn't know how she became, for lack of a better term, popular, but she would very much like to get off this ride. They all want their own personal Regina George, but all Amanda can give them is a girl in glasses and a sundress with paint on her hands. None of her friends blame her for associating with those people, but that doesn't mean they aren't pissed when Amanda is consistently stolen from them...

[coleyo]

BITTW CHAPTER 17

SUMMARY;

As time flies, big mama grows more sicker, while new information about Donatello's ideals are revealed.. both mondo and Mikey also share a moment.

"-Donnie? Donnie!"

Mikey shouts,

his voice echoed throughout the solemn lab. Unfortunately, Donatello was nowhere to be seen. Usually, they'd be at their station; As they always were. Maybe he went out for a supply run? Michealangelo shrugs, until something caught their attention. The mutant creeped towards donnies table, where he did most of his experiments. There lied a blue print.

Mikey stared at it, in an attempt to make sense of it..

"-So much words.. eugh.." the boy mumbled he'd squint. All they could recognize was a drawing, a drawing of what looked like a can? No, it couldn't be... It was labeled..

"-Key..?" Mikey said aloud. A sudden whisper caused him to loose his train of thought. Michealangelo tore his eyes away from the project and approached the source of the sound.. oddly enough, it came from big Mama's room. Maybe she was here? Just maybe.

"-Big mama, im--" he'd pause. Yes, as he predicted, there was big mama .. with Donatello. He looked upset, big mama was hooked up to all sorts of machines. "What's Uh-- what's goin' on here?" "-mikey-- we weren't..expecting you here so early..." Donnie spoke. "what's wrong with big mama..?" Mikey said, stepping a bit closer. "-Mikey, i--... Didn't she tell you..? She's sick, okay?" "Sick?" Mikey repeated, "But she's going to be okay.. right?" "-Of course she will.. I..don't think you should stay for long. It wouldn't be so-- wise." "-but I have to make sure she's alright, just let me--" "-Mikey." Donnie furrowed his brows, causing Mikey to freeze. "..Fine.. B- but I have good news, great news!" "What is it, kid'." "-Well-- if you know those two gargoyle things or whatever they're called, and-- some creature named mayhem-- they're alive and well! April is happy so.. yay?"

".. They're,, alive?" "-Crazy, right?" Just as Donnie were to speak. Big mama let out a small yawn and opened her eyes.

".. Michealangelo?" The woman smiled. "-Big mama!" Mikey ran up to her,  all smiles. "-Im so glad you're okay!" Big mama smirks, "-Of  course I'd be fine, it takes more than a silly little sickness to get rid of yours truly.. oh and-- Donnie dear, may I speak to this one for a moment?" "-Of course, big mama." Donnie complied as he left the room..

Mikey tilts his head. "-So? What is it?" "-Mikey, sweetie.. if I happen to die one day.. you are allowed to tell Your sensei about my existence.. I'm sure my little battle nexus warrior would appreciate it." "...of course, but.. I don't get it, why can't you see them? They don't hold anything against you, do they? You never really told me.." "..Yes, I do think it's time. Leonardo-- well-- master Leonardo.. he.. doesn't..oh, who am I kidding. he doesn't.. like us all that much, so, a few years back, he separated me from the others. Donnie just came along." Big mama lied.. about well.. most of it. But it was all to keep both Angelo and Mikey happy.. "-Really? I-- I have so much to ask, i-" "-And I think it's time for you to run along now.. before it gets cold. Or dark.." "I-..Fine.. Get well soon, big mama."

   The woman flashed a smile before Mikey fled, closing the door gently. As he walked through the halls, he'd think about big mama and her condition.. this was, clearly not just a cold. Maybe Mikey didn't want to accept it.. Donnie would help her, right? Of course he would.

"Are you done here?"

Asked Donatello, startling the other. "-Oh-- yes. I have a question for you anyways." Said Mikey, passing Donnie. The boy would grab the blueprint found earlier, showcasing it to the man. "-Whats this about." They would furrow their brows. Donatello did the same.

"-None of your Business, kid." Growled the ninja, Mikey's expression softened. "What's the key for? Is it important? Can I help?" Mikey would ask a series of questions as Donnie snatched the blueprint away from Mikey,

"-Look, You have no idea what you're dealing with.." Donnie paused, looking down at the paper and clenching it.

"..And it's my own problem to fix. Alone." The purple one glared, striking fear into Mikey. He'd back down before sighing. "I-.. what if I can help --" "-Your job is to help my brother. And it looks like you're doing an alright job with that --"

"-Looks like?" Mikey stopped him.

Donnie froze.

Silence lingered throughout the room, Donnie bit his lip before shouting, "-This is none of your business! You hear?"

"-Listen to me, i-" "-You're just a kid you would never understand--" "-IM NOT A KID!" Michealangelo yelled, clenching his fist.. "..I..I have motives. I just want to be of use to more people-" "-How about being of use to yourself first. Stop putting others before.. you. That's what Angelo did and now look where he's ended up."

"I don't understand."

"..What's not to understand."

"How do you know who mondo is. I never muttered a work about him around you. What do you mean by it looks like sensei is doing well. I just want answers!" Mikey sighed, Donnie held his word. "I--.. Not all questions are meant to be answered, but.. I'll make and acception. This once."

Mikey's eyes lit up, a smile formed on his face.

Dobnie turned towards the mutant, demonstrating the blueprint. "-This key is what started the apocalypse. I'm trying to find it, harbor it, and destroy it. This is all you need to know."

"Thanks, Dee'.."

"-Dee'?" Donnie raised a brow. "-Oh-- sorry I.. sometimes compare you to my Donnie. Often, actually.." "-Ah' it's fine. Just-- run along." "-..Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. Mikey waved. Donnie nodded and placed the blueprint on the table, making his way back to big Mama's house.. Mikey would look around, snatching the paper and rolling it into a scroll before making his way out of the lab and back to surface.

Getting back to the base was quite a task, he'd have to stay low Since it was morning..well, afternoon. It always took a while to get to point A to point B.. they'd always get back with a few scars. Or cuts. It was alright though! How about we skip this dueling task.

After arriving back to the base, Mikey would jump through the window that led to Casey's room. Mikey was full of pride, but this was not long lasted. As soon as Mikey picked up his head, he spotted cassy and mondo, it seems they were in the middle of a conversation.

"Mikey?" The two gasped, "-Er' boy." Whispered the mutant.

"-What were you doing out there?" "N-nothing! Just-- star gazing?"

"-Mikey, it's like---- I dunno, it's the afternoon." Casey said with a Hint of suspicion. Mikey's eyes darted around the room for an excuse, but his eyes Suddenly landed on mondo.

"-Mondo! Nice hoodie, where'd ya get it?" Mondo looked over at Casey, yes, they were wearing a brand new hoodie, it was extremely baggy. "-..Um-- Leo. He gave it to me." Said the gecko, he didn't sound to happy.. Mikey hummed, was it something he said?" "-Whys it so baggy? Totally not your size, i-" "-Mikey." Casey Jr. Interrupted. Mondo pressed his knees up against his chest, cautiously. "i'll leave you two alone." Said the human, rushing out of the room.

"-What's up with him? And you?" Mikey pointed.

"-Look, dude, I just think it's time that I...maybe tell you something?" "-Alright! Shoot it!" Mikey sat next to the other.

"Like I said, Leo gave me this hoodie, and..you know how some people are like.. Guys or girls? But-- weren't always girls -- or guys.." "-Uh-huh.. what about it?" Asked Mikey, clueless. Mondo rolled his eyes, "-Im-- I wasn't..always like this-- I wasn't always a guy.. I just-- I don't know how to say this. You're so open about everything and I'm..not like that." Mikey froze for a moment, this was a pretty sensitive topic..

The mutant smiled and spoke, "-Awh, mondo.. that's completely fine, I'm not going to treat you any differently dude.." Mikey placed a hand on mondos shoulder.

"-It looks like you have something I want, if you know what I mean." Mondo stared at Mikey blankly before placing a hand on his and chuckling. "-Shut up dude.." the two stared at one another for a bit, until Mikey let go. "..On a serious note, I've always thought you were a guy anyways." "-Awh, I'll take that as a compliment.." the gecko spoke rather softly, his hand running over Mikey's. Mikey flashed a smile before looking down at their hands. A sigh escaped his lips. He'd grip onto mondos hand unexpectedly. Sitting a bit closer. Mondo squeaked, looking back at his friend..

"..Dude, are we about to kiss.."

The gecko asked, hesitantly.

"..Maybe." Mikey hesitantly inched closer, before someone Suddenly barged in the room, it was Casey! "Mikey, mondo, Sensei--...oh." he stared for a moment. "-Am I interrupting something?" "-No, not at all!" Mikey let go and stood up with mondo. "-Okay then.. sesnei angelo says it's time for your training."

"-Gotcha'! We'll be there in a second.."

Casey nodded and left, the two mutants stood in silence. "-You'll get another chance." Said Mikey, before leaving the room. Blush forms on mondos face as he follows.

[icerosecrystal]

An Unexpected Turn Of Events

Mominette Month 2021

Day 01 - Find A Child

Masterlist

Authors note: Hi, everyone! Just one quick to let you all know so that this fic is not confusing for you. This fic is a reverse Robin fic. In other words, Dick is the youngest instead of the eldest, and Damian is the oldest instead of the youngest. This same thing applies to all of the other bat children as well.

Marinette sighed in relief as she finished rifling through her purse. She had woken up late and had hastily left her hotel room for her consultation. She had thankfully not left behind anything that she would need during the consultation. Feeling a bit paranoid, she looked once more through her purse, and there was the tape measure, pencils, notebook, sewing kit, and the NDAs. She may or may not have flipped through the grimoire belonging to the guardians and found the spell for expanding the space in her purse to be the way it was for her yo-yo when she transforms into Ladybug. Unlike her yo-yo, the expansion was still limited. But the extra space was still beneficial.

As Marinette was walking, she pulled out her phone to look at the time. 9:50, she thought, leaves me enough time to get to Wayne Tower by 10:00 if I want to be on time. As she was putting her phone away, she felt something hit her legs and torso. She let out a slight oof at the unexpected weight against her lower body. As she peered down, she saw a cute boy, probably around eight years old clinging onto her legs. He had black hair, and as he looked up at her with teary eyes, she saw the most devastating sparkling blue eyes she had ever seen. His slightly chubby cheeks were flushed pink, and his nose also had a pink tinge to it. The flushness was probably a result of the choked sobs he was currently letting out.

As Marinette looked around, she realized that none of the nearby grown-ups looked to be his parents, nor did they look like they were missing a child. She bent down and smiled softly at him, hoping to calm him down a bit. After a beat or two, her smile seemed to do the trick, and his sobs reduced down to a few tears. Once she knew that he had calmed down, she softly whispered, “ Hey, honey. Are you lost? Do you want me to find your parents?”

He sniffled a few times before replying with a slight tremor in his voice, “Yes. Please help me find my Boose.”

“Your Boose?” Marinette questioned.

“Yes,” he slightly whimpered, “Boose is my new daddy. My other daddy and mommy had to say goodbye to me.”

Marinette gasped in shock at his words. This poor kid, so young, and yet his parents were gone. Dead. Marinette thought about the many akumas which her parents didn’t survive. She then shook herself out of her thoughts. Come on, Marinette. Stop worrying about yourself all time. Your parents are okay now. But this kid is lost! Get out of your head! Steeling herself, she gently asked him, “What’s your name, hon? Mine is Marinette, but you can call me Mari..”

Surprised by the kindness and warmth in her voice, he stuttered out, “Richard… but I like Dick better. Richard sounds old. I’m not old!” He then shyly added, “It’s nice to meet you, miss. You have a pretty name.”

Marinette smiled as she saw his confidence growing with every word he spoke. Marinette laughed aloud at the words he shyly said, “It’s nice to meet you too.” She then questioned, “Do you remember where your daddy is?”

Dick was now bouncing on his heels, and he squealed out in excitement, “Yes! My daddy is in the big, tall building with the huge ‘W’ on it!”

The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. Dick’s excitement was infectious. His words then caught up to her. Well! It looked like luck was on her side after all! She would have enough time to get Dick back to his dad and still be on time for her consultation. She stood back up and then smiled down at him, “Well, I’m heading there too! So why don’t I take you back to your daddy?”

Dick nodded his head rapidly before holding her hand with his much smaller one. They then started walking towards Wayne Tower. Dick continued to babble on about the most random of things. He talked about his grumpy older brother, who it seemed begrudgingly liked him. He also discussed the many pets his older brother had. It also seemed like Dick’s adoptive dad had a slight problem with adopting too many children from what could be told from the many siblings that Dick mentioned.

When the door of Wayne Tower came into sight, Dick stopped talking, allowing them to walk in comfortable silence. As she was about to speak to ask him where in the building his father worked or the name of his dad, Dick blurted out, “I like you, Miss Mari. Can you be my mommy? I don’t have a new one yet!”

Marinette stopped in shock before trying to stutter out something, anything, but all of her words were incoherent. What do you say in response to a question like that, she thought to herself? She saw Dick looking at her for an answer, and after a while, he decided to pull out some puppy eyes. Shoot! Marinette thought. I need to say something to stall for time. At least until I get him to his dad. She reassured him, “I am thinking about my answer, Dickie! But how about we first get back to your daddy, and then we talk about it?”

Dick contemplated her words before nodding in agreement and practically bouncing through the doors. Marinette sighed in relief and also walked through the doors. Her head was down as she speculated what she should do about Dick’s question. Suddenly, a rough voice spoke up in front of her, “Hello. Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I presume.”

Marinette lifted her head, and there in front of her was Bruce Wayne, her newest client. And clinging to him was the very boy that was holding her hand just seconds ago. She suddenly remembered hearing something about Bruce Wayne adopting the son of some acrobats who were in an accident. The name of the kid was Richard Grayson! She hadn’t made the connection!

Realizing that Bruce was looking for an answer, she hastily stuck out her hand, stuttering, “That is correct, Monsieur Wayne. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He stared at her hand before gently taking it and raising the back of her hand to his lips. “Please, the pleasure is all mine. Let’s make our way upstairs.”

She blushed at his gentlemanly actions before squeaking out a small, “Let’s.” The three of them climbed into the elevator and went to the top floor of the building. The doors of the elevator opened up, and Bruce gestured for her to go first. She did so and looked around at the beautiful interior of the building that she had not yet noticed. Bruce then opened up the door to what seemed to be his office. Inside she saw there to be seven kids. She smiled at them in greeting. Most of them smiled back at her. The exception to this was what looked to be the oldest and one of the younger ones. (Damian and Jason, if you didn’t figure it out.)

Marinette felt Bruce step closer so that he was next to her before he spoke once more, “These are all of my children, biological, adopted, or otherwise.” He pointed to the man with stunning green eyes stating, “This is my oldest son, Damian. He’s 22.” Damian gave a tight-lipped smile in response, along with a slight tilt of his head.

Next, Bruce gestured to what looked to be the second oldest saying, “This is Tim. He’s 18 years old.” He was sipping coffee and giving the briefest of nods to her. He looked seconds away from collapsing.

He then acknowledged a blonde girl, remarking, “This is Stephanie, but she likes to be called Steph. She’s 17 years old.” The girl seemed to be bouncing in place and close to bursting from excitement.

He pointed to a rough-looking boy stating, “This here is Jason. He just turned 15. He’s a few months older than the next youngest.” The boy smirked at Marinette in acknowledgment of his introduction.

Bruce finally gestured to a girl with Asian features saying, “This is Cassandra or Cass. She’s 14, but like I said, a few months younger than Jason.” The girl seemed to be peering through her very soul. After gazing for a few seconds, she hummed in what Marinette deemed to be satisfied as if she liked what she saw.

Bruce then turned towards her, “And you’ve already met Richard or Dick. Thank you for bringing him back.”

Marinette smiled in acknowledgment of his compliment before replying, “It was nothing Monsieur Wayne. He was all alone, so I had to help him. But he was delightful the whole time. Now as for what I came here for, what type of clothes have you been looking for–”.

But before she could continue, Dick blurted out, “Daddy, I like Ms. Mari! Can we keep her? I want her to be my mommy!”

The result was instant. The room burst into a flurry of noises, each of Bruce’s kids trying to speak over one another. Marinette was blushing very brightly. In fact, from how hot her face felt, she was sure that she was inventing new shades of red. Marinette looked over to see Bruce’s reaction and squeaked when she saw him staring at her with a sharp, analytical gaze.

Marinette took a few breathes to calm herself down. She then softened both her gaze and voice as she addressed Dick, “Dickie, honey, as much as I loved meeting you and talking with you, I, unfortunately, cannot be your mommy. Bruce is your daddy, and he will someday find a lovely lady who will be your mommy.”

At her last sentence, all or most of the kids seemed to have snorted in amusement. It seemed as if they disagreed with her statement. Dick looked sad and seemed to be growing teary-eyed. Marinette looked over to Bruce for some help but only found him concealing the amusement that he was most likely feeling quite well. If she hadn’t been Ladybug, she probably would have never noticed the slight bit of emotion peaking through his mask. She glared at him reproachfully as if saying, this is your kid, so you need to help me convince him that I would not make a good mother.

He rolled his eyes in return as if trying to say, Don’t kid yourself. You would make an excellent mother. And you’re already attached to him, don’t deny it.

As Marinette sighed in response, Bruce turned away from her towards Dick and knelt to his level. He then gently said, “Now Dick. Miss Mari can’t be your mommy.” Marinette started nodding as if agreeing with Bruce’s words. But then stopped when he continued, “But she can visit you and maybe one day be your mommy.”

Marinette opened and closed her mouth, no words coming out. Before shyly looking down before raising her head, stammering, “Well, I guess I could visit.”

All the kids started cheering in response. The exception to this was Damian. But the corner of his lips was slightly raised as if the start of a smile. Dick bounded over to her, hugging her and babbling out everything he wanted to do with her. And in all the chaos, Marinette’s and Bruce’s eyes met. They both exchanged small smiles.

Marinette then clapped her hands together, reminding them, “I do still have to do a consultation with all of you. So how about we do that, and then we can do something fun together?” Seeing everyone’s nods, Marinette then continued with the consultation. But unbeknownst to anyone in the room, their relationship would change drastically in the coming months. But ultimately, it would change for the better.

One Year Later

It has been a year since the faithful day when Dick requested Marinette to be his mom. And since then, they only seemed to grow closer. She had met Alfred, Bruce’s Psuedo father and the children’s pseudo grandfather. She thought that he was extraordinary. And honestly godsent. She also experienced a lot of adventures with the Waynes. In fact, after only four months of knowing each other, she figured out that they were the Bat-Family. She had caught them once after patrol and raised her eyebrow as if demanding an answer, and god did she get an answer from them!

Marinette and Bruce had also started dating. This change in their relationship occurred a few weeks after she found out their identities. They were now engaged to be married in a few months. All the children had warmed up to Marinette over the months, even Damian, who always withheld his emotions. But they had all come to see her as their mother figure and were ever so grateful for her. And so they wanted to do something for her birthday.

The very morning of her birthday, everything went wrong. Marinette woke up to quite the sight. All over the kitchen was what looked to be cake batter. It seemed as if they were trying to put the baking she had taught them to good use, but they had also made the cake batter explode. Marinette and Bruce stared at the mess before they both started laughing. Marinette had a light, melodic laugh, while Bruce had a very gruff laugh.

Marinette beckoned all of them forward for a hug before proclaiming, “I love that you all were trying to do something for me, but none of you had to do anything. But it’s the thought that counts, so thank you. But next time, please stay away from the kitchen.”

She then shooed them on their way before getting two mops, handing one to Bruce as she passed by him. She kissed him on the cheek before starting to clean up the mess, Bruce following her actions. She then quietly snickered, “Well, this was quite a sight to wake up to on your birthday. I would have thought that today would have been relaxing.”

She looked up to see Bruce shoot her a small look before shaking his head in amusement. “Mari, darling, when has our lives with them ever been relaxing? They are always getting into trouble.”

She snorted in response, “Yes, well, they get it from their father.”

Bruce glared at her lightly before pulling her into a deep kiss, “I don’t know. Their mother seems to be just as chaotic sometimes.”

She shook her head in amusement, pulling herself away from Bruce’s embrace and questioning, “How is this even my life anymore?”

He chuckled lightly, alerting her that he was about to sass her in some way. “Well, from what I remember, about a year ago, you came across this kid that–”

Marinette held up a finger to his mouth, stopping him from uttering another word. She was also glaring at him reproachfully. “Yes, I do know-how. I was there. Now go away so that I can clean up the rest of the kitchen. You’re distracting me.”

He let go of his mop before giving her another deep kiss and then darting away. As he strolled out of the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Oh, I know how distracting I am. I am well aware of how irresistible I am, ma coccinelle.” He could hear her spluttering in response before yelling back at him, but he continued on his way to his office. Along the way, he chuckled to himself.

Back in the kitchen, Marinette was glaring at nothing. She was also plotting ways to show her fiance who the irresistible one was. She then sighed in happiness. Yes, her life was amazing. A year ago, if someone told her this would be her life, she wouldn’t have believed it. But now she was living it, and god was it amazing. Funny what finding a child will do to you, Marinette thought to herself before carrying on with her task of cleaning up the mess her kids had made. Yeah, life was amazing.

2,683 words

I actually got it done!

~ ❄ Crystal ❄

@mominettemonth

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[shadowthestoryteller]

I have finally made peace (somewhat) with the Bad Batch show

I still am unsatisfied with how they did things, namely Crosshair's dechipped reveal and the over abundance of cameos. I also feel like most of the time and effort went into the animation. Which admittedly is ASTOUNDING compared to Season 1 of the clone wars. The pacing is still a bit odd, and I feel the Infested ep should DEFINITELY have come before Ryloth.

But all that aside, I've come to accept something

It just wasn't made for me

Let me explain

TLDR at the end for those with ADD like myself

I felt often that the episodes lacked the deeper "omph" that some episodes in the clone wars had. There was angst, yes, but it wasn't really explored or fleshed out. Things kinda happened more for shock value (ex. civvie BBQ, dechipping, ect) and then weren't ever... mentioned again??? Crosshair, forced against his will to brutally murder unarmed civvies alive, only to never have it mentioned again. That's no small incident. The Crosshair from tcw would definitely have felt deep rooted and visceral horror at what he'd done, even if he didn't say it aloud. Because he's not evil.

You don't just brush something like that off. Admittedly, we do see him reflect at the end of that episode but then we just... move on. It is never brought up again. His abandonment gets a bit more spotlight, with that absolutely gut-wrenching speech in episode 15. Even still, it doesn't go as deep into it as I feel it could.

Ultimately, much of my issue boils down to that; things weren't really addressed in-depth like I felt they should be. Many of my fellow Bad Batch stans have the same thought. There are many fans out there who have, in my opinion, written the Batch better than the show-writers. I myself have gotten the same praise, which is not to brag but to point out that even those writing for purely hobby's sake go in-depth with the characters and their issues.

Thing is... we go deeper into these issues, into what should be broken men, because of one critical factor.

Our target audience is NOT a bunch of kids.

The Bad Batch show, per IMDb, is rated TV-PG. PG. That's for kids. Just like the Clone Wars.

I was eight when the Clone Wars movie came out. EIGHT. Why did I watch it? Cool lightsabers, neat character designs, kick-ass action sequences, and intriguing plots. NOT deep and intricate characterizations. Hell, half of it probably went right over my head. Because I was a KID. Kids aren't really gonna get the deeper meaning of things. Ask a eight year old to read Shakespeare and see what happens. They don't care. They care about action or cool visual effects.

The Clone Wars, and by extension Rebels, did mature as the seasons went on, but that's probably because the audience who started with Season 1 was also more mature. They could better understand the death. The corruption. The deeper, more adult themes.

Many of us fanfic writers, or at least those in my circle, are 17+ verging on 18+. My material is not for kids. Or even teens at some points. I can delve into things like PTSD, abandonment, perfectionism, trauma, abuse, and so on. Because I'm not targeting young kids; I'm targeting people around my age. Those who too grew up with the clone wars and deeply yearn for a different outcome. A different outcome where the galaxy didn't fall. The clones got their freedom. And the musty crusty dusty raisin choked on a grapefruit.

My audience is different. As such, I'm going to tackle topics a completely different way. Ways that no kid, or sometimes even teen should be exposed to.

Writing is an art, and a hella difficult one at that. Especially when aimed at kids. Even if you want to explore the character on a deeper level, you can't. Not if you want the rating to stay the same. A kid will look at Crosshair's speech and go "yeah he's hurt". But they probably won't think too much of it.

I didn't realized the true terror of the mind control worms. I didn't think too much of Pond's death. Umbara didn't horrify and scar me. It was only when Ahsoka underwent the hell that she did that I really felt impacted by the show. Because at that point, I was 12 almost 13. And I'd been attached to Ahsoka for years, so saying goodbye to her was saying goodbye to my childhood. But if you showed me that exact same scene at 8, I would have just "noo!! she's leaving!" and then jumped to something else.

Because that's how kids are. They don't really get the deeper "what's happening here". Looking back they will, just how looking back we all are like "bro what were those early kid's movies ON that is NOT child friendly" (Pink Elephants in Dumbo, the entirety of All Dogs Go to Heaven, ect). Another example? That scene in the Patriot (2000) where the surrendering soldier got shot in the face? I remember very vividly my seventh grade classmates laughing. Kids and very young teens aren’t exactly gonna take dark things seriously.

The Bad Batch isn't meant to be a deeper, thought provoking show with convoluted and twisted morals, showing the horrible and dark reality of war.

It's a kids show.

For kids.

Hence Omi. She's the tether for the kids. As such, the topics cannot get overly dark. But when they do, they can only be shown at surface level. Something that, to an older audience (such as myself) comes across as shallow and lazy.

Do I still wish they did things differently? Yes. Do I prefer my/others version over the show? Yes. Will I still grumble about things? Most likely yes. Will I make shots at canon in my fics? Hell yeah, its fun.

Here's the thing.

You're allowed to complain! You're allowed to hate something! You're allowed to wish they did something differently! Welcome to media consumption!

But you can't go into a kids' show with adult expectations and then be surprised when it doesn't meet those expectations. If you want a animated series catered to adults, watch Arcane. The Bad Batch show, a show rated PG, is simply not for you.

Additionally, you most certainly cannot bash others who like the show/characters. The amount of hate I see towards Omi, a literal child, is sickening. Do I like her within the context of the show? Not really, no. I feel like her presence limits how dark they can go, and I also feel like she replaced Crosshair as the marksman. But do I hate Omi herself? NO. She's the new generation's Ahsoka.

TLDR;

The Bad Batch is made for kids, and judging it by adult standards will just leave you disappointed. I know, because I did the exact same thing and have suffered for it.

[manunelle]

{Ikerev} How many kids would they have? {Headcanon}

I’m kind of creating this post to organize my thoughts, because I want to write more about this in another post where I’ll write about how they are with their children and how I imagine their personalities. Please be aware that I imagine a different MC for each suitor, so the kids exist in the same universe lol

🖤 Black Army 🖤 

Ray Blackwell

One boy.

He was adopted by Ray and MC at age of 3. His father was one of Ray’s soldier who unfortunately passed away in duty. Since he had no mother or relatives that could take care of them, MC and Ray took him in. 

He prefers MC over Ray, but admires his dad very much!

Sirius Oswald

oh boy

This man and MC had 5 children! :) 

I kind of enjoy the thought of Sirius retiring because he wants to spend as much time as he can with his family. 

They have three girls and two boys. The order goes like this: Girl ---> Twins (boy and girl) ---> Boy ---> Girl. 

Would name his kids after flowers. 

The kids get along very well! They are really protective of each other and of their parents.

Luka Clemence

One boy as well. 

His kid is really sweet! He’s really friendly and everybody loves him at school. 

Is kind of a younger brother to Jonah’s girls. 

Talking about Jonah, he’s the best uncle ever. Always brings gifts and gives advices about anything that is troubling the boy. 

He’s doesn’t have a favorite parent. He’s close to both!

Fenrir Gospeed

Had two kids, a son and a daughterl. 

The firstborn is the boy, and the girl is six years younger. 

To his and MC’s surprise, the boy is a magic user! They discovered it when MC was bathing her baby when suddenly he started floating and giggling around. Imagine Fenrir and MC screaming and jumping around, trying to reach their son, who is having the time of his life. 

The girl is not a magic user, so she causes less trouble than her brother. She’s friends with Ray’s son.

Seth Hyde

One girl.

She has Seth’s hair and MC’s eyes, and likes to dress cute clothes and to play with her teddy bear. 

She’s reeeeaaaally shy. :< 

She probably prefers Seth over MC, but she doesn’t make it obvious. Of course, she likes her mother very much as well. But Seth’s hugs are something else. :> 

❤️ Red Army ❤️ 

Lancelot Kingsley

The next King of Hearts is a girl! 

She looks mostly like Lancelot, but her hair shape resembles MC’s. 

She’s really carismatic and smart, which means that she can hold a conversation with an adult without difficulties. 

She’s a friendly and curious little girl, always asking about how and why things work the way they do. 

As a magic user, she’s really interested in Harr’s work and gets along well with his daughter. 

Loves her dad! She looks up to him a lot and is not embarassed of asking him for advices and hugs.

Jonah Clemence

Our queen has two daughters. 

They are only 2 years apart, so they get along very well with each other. 

Honestly, they have Jonah completely wrapped around their little fingers. This man would go to the fucking moon if they wanted something from there. 

Despite being spoiled rotten, the girls are really gentle and caring with those around them. thank u so much mc

Because the younger sister is shyer, Jonah teaches his firstborn from a young age that she should always be nice and take care of her younger sister. 

They love baking! Imagine the MC and her two daughter baking cookies on the kitchen to present the man of their lives later. ;A; so cute

Edgar Bright

Edgar has one girl and one boy. 

Due to her fragile health, his daughter, the firstborn, won’t be able to become the next Jack of Hearts. She always smiles and says that it doesn’t bother her, but she gets self concious when hearing adults commenting about it. She also feels bad for passing the burden of being the heir to her younger brother. 

The boy is calm and serious, which is kind of weird bc his face looks way too much with MC’s. He’s really protective of his parents and his sister. Loves animals, just like his dad! He’s smart and strong, but is really aloof. MC and Edgar are always worried about him bc he doesn’t seem to want friends. 

The girl is bffs with Lancelot’s daughter and Kyle’s son.

Zero

One daughter! 

She has MC’s hair and his eyes. She’s really pretty! 

She’s friendly and is always smiling. Since she’s younger than the other kids of the Red Army (Kyle’s second son is actually the youngest, but he is still a baby lol), they kind of treat her as a young sister, always hugging and patting her head. 

She’s really curious around everything. Actually, her personality resembles Lancelot’s daughter’s a lot. 

Loves watching her father training with the soldiers! At the end of every session, she goes running towards him demanding hugs.

Kyle Ash

Two boys. They have an age gap of 12 years.

His firstborn had a really fragile health as a child, to the point of having to take constant shots and Kyle having to perform different treatments on his child. Seeing their child suffer was really difficult for Kyle and MC, and at some point they even thought that he wouldn’t survive childhood. However, aroung age 8, the signs of this disease started decreasing and he got better. 

Kyle is still worried about his son, so he always keeps a close watch on him to see if those symptons will come back someday. 

Because they were always busy taking care of their older son, MC and Kyle decided to not have other children. So it was a big surprise when they discovered MC’s second pregnancy. 

Surprisingly, their second son has no health problems. As a baby, he’s really serious and likes to nap a lot. 

Both boys look a lot like Kyle. The older one looks the most, while the younger has MC’s eyes. 

Mousse Atlas

Has one son. 

The boy is a MC’s appearence copy with Mousse’s personalit copy. 

Just like his dad, loves napping. 

Naps everywhere. 

Everywhere. 

Once, when dusting some shelves, Luka found him sleeping in the Black Army’s library. 

How in the hell did this kid get here? 

He always goes missing. Like, at one moment he’s standing right next do MC and in the next second he disappears. Dude??? 

Actually, he’s a magic user, which explains him disappearing all the time and reaching things that are in a place way higher than him. However, he doesn’t tell it to his parent until he’s sixteen bc he’s afraid of disappointing them (bc he heard from some idiot that magic users are way too dangerous).

💚 Neutral 💚 

Harr Silver

He has one daughter. 

She has his hair and MC’s eyes. 

Since she’s a magic user, she and Harr are always excitingly talking about magic books and researchs. He also teaches her about spells and skills unrelated to magic, such as cooking and fishing. 

She’s really shy, and because kids used to bully her at school and adults ignored the situation, she has a really hard time socializing with people that are not her family.

Loves cats! As a toddler, Loki gave her a cat plushie and she is really attached to it. 

Gets along with Sirius’s oldest daughter and Lancelot’s, but I’ll talk more about this in another post. 

Likes to sleep with her parents. It’s hard to get up in the morning bc she is pratically glued to the one she is hugging.

Loki Genetta

One son. He’s the youngest among the 17 suitors (bc Loki is fucking 19 years old in canon universe, duh). 

The boy is always stealing MC’s attention, always glaring at Loki. Loki glares back because he’s a man-child. 

Actually, they get along very well when the issue is not MC, and the boy trusts Loki a lot, sharing secrets and asking for help when in need of assistance. 

His looks and personality are a carbon copy of Loki’s. 

Always follows Ray’s son and Fenrir’s daughter around. 

Oliver Knight

One daughter, and Oliver loves her so much!

She looks a lot like MC, both in looks and personality. 

Being a bit naive, she’s always getting in trouble. Thank god her friends are always ready to rescue her! Is bffs with Sirius’s second daughter. 

Boys love her. Girls too. As a teenager, she’s always having to turn down confessions. She tries to be gentle, but some people are just too bold for her to deal with. That’s when Sirius’s daughter and son (the twins!) enter and deal with whoever is bothering her. 

She kind of has a crush on Sirius’s oldest son, but is too embarassed to admit. 

Oliver knows, but doesn’t want her to know that he knows. It’s kind of tough to hide, bc when the boy shows up at his house he’s always fumming with jealousy. 

Blanc Lapin

Mister Blanc has one son.

He’s calm and smart. 

Loves tea parties! Dad’s carrot cake is the best.

Loves his mom. Loves his dad. Loves his friends. 

He’s a sunshine. Everybody loves him. 

Dean Tweedle

Has only one daughter. 

Her looks and personality are a perfect mix of her parents’. 

Sleeps only if her dad reads to her. Otherwise, she stays the whole night staring at ceiling with a bored expression. 

Is really smart and responsable. She’s the perfect “senpai” at school. 

Is bffs with Sirius’ oldest daughter. 

She and Dalim’s son look really alike, so people are always mistaking them as siblings. Dalim and Dean always get annoyed at this.

Dalim Tweedle/Dum

Has one son.

Just like Dean’s daughter, his looks are a mix of his parent’s, but his personality is a bit different. Despite being really curious, he’s really quiet and hesitant of asking questions aloud. 

Is a magic user. 

Sees Dean’s daughter as a big sister. Is always attached to her hand when they meet and follows her around like a shadow. 

Probably prefers his mom over Dalim. 

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter twelve

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Chloe was surprised to hear music drifting through the apartment when she got home from her late-afternoon NA meeting that Thursday evening. 

It had been four days since they had come back from Oregon, and Beca had spent most of her time at the label, often coming home after Chloe was down for the night and leaving before she was up. She always left a note and texted Chloe throughout the day to check on her, but Chloe could tell something was off. 

She rounded the corner to find Beca cooking at the stove, and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hey you,” Beca greeted with a matching smile. “You hungry? Making a stir-fry.” 

“Starving. This baby is making me eat for three,” Chloe mumbled as she walked past Beca to pluck a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge. She uncapped it and took a sip, leaning against the counter. “Are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice you’ve seemed off since we got back.” 

Beca nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I uh,” she cleared her throat as she reached for two plates in the cupboard over her head. “I broke up with Sarah the other night.” 

Chloe’s eyes popped wider in shock. “Oh.”

Beca set both plates on the island, then opened the cutlery drawer. “Yeah… and I kinda threw myself into work, because that’s what I do to cope with my emotions.” She grimaced again, meeting Chloe’s eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.” 

Chloe shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry, Bec.” She wondered what the reason for the break-up was, but she doubted Beca wanted to get into that. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Thanks. Yeah. It’s, um, life, right?” She shrugged a little as she turned off the stove. “We just weren’t looking for the same thing.” 

Chloe nodded slowly, then pushed off the counter. “Okay. I’m here if you wanna talk, alright?” She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m just going to freshen up, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” 

Beca had scooped food into each plate and poured water into two glasses when she got back clad in comfier clothes, and Chloe perched herself on the stool across from Beca. 

“Thanks for making dinner,” she murmured as she dug in.

“No problem. Did your NA meeting go okay?” Beca asked as she stabbed a couple of vegetables with her fork. 

Chloe chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of her water. “Yeah, it went fine. My sponsor is amazing. We’re meeting for coffee tomorrow morning. Well, tea for me.” Decaf just wasn’t the same. 

“Cool.” Beca smiled. “I was thinking we could get a start on the nursery soon? Have you thought of a color for the walls?”

“You wanna paint the walls?” Chloe asked in surprise. “We don’t have to do that, you know. I don’t want you to be stuck with a nursery-looking room once Bean and I move out.” 

Beca shrugged. “I have another guest room, and I kinda want Bean to have their own room whenever you guys come to visit.” 

Chloe’s heart swelled against her ribs. She wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve someone like Beca back in her life, but she wasn’t going to screw it up this time around. And she had thought about what she wanted Bean’s nursery to look like, but didn’t allow herself to daydream about it until now. “I like those beige walls the way they are, but I was thinking of a woodland theme? Something gender-neutral, for sure. A few animal frames, maybe an animal mobile above the crib?” 

“That sounds nice,” Beca said, smiling. “Are you going to find out the sex at your next appointment?” 

“I think so, yeah.” 

“That’s the 26th at 3, right?” Beca asked, surprising Chloe once more. Upon catching her look, Beca added, “I wrote it down in my planner.” 

It was one thing to have written down, another to remember it off the bat like that, but Chloe didn’t even know why she was surprised. Beca had been nothing short of amazing since Chloe decided to keep the baby, between keeping track of the baby’s growth on her app or making sure to pick up ginger ale every time she went grocery shopping.

“Oh. Yeah, the 26th at 3.” 

As Chloe further settled into her second trimester, her constant exhaustion gradually faded away. She felt more energized from the start of her fifteenth week, which felt like a breath of fresh air. As her OBGYN saw nothing against it, she started each day with a morning fitness walk followed by a yoga session, then settled down to have some breakfast as she read her book. After lunch, she either had a therapy session or an NA meeting, except for Wednesdays and over the weekend. 

The cravings were still there, sitting somewhere at the back of her mind, but she continued pushing through, for the baby’s sake first and foremost, but also because she didn’t want to disappoint her support system and risk losing them forever if she did fall back into old habits. The taunting was strong, every time she walked in front of the liquor store or a familiar street corner where she would get the good stuff, but she resisted, and never hesitated to call Aubrey or her parents when her resolve wobbled a bit too much for her liking. 

“Shit,” Chloe muttered as she tried buttoning her pants up, her more than noticeable belly getting in the way. She had just reached 17 weeks, and her bump seemed to have popped a little more overnight. So had her boobs. She could also start to feel some movement going on in there, which was absolutely mind-blowing. 

Not ready to accept defeat yet, Chloe grunted at the effort of bringing these two stupid pieces of fabric closer together, exhaling with a sigh when they didn’t budge. 

“Chlo?” Beca called out, a knock on Chloe’s bedroom door following. “We should get going.” 

“I know, I just-- can’t get my pants to button,” Chloe muttered with a huff. 

A pause. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah.” 

The door was pushed open, and Beca appeared, leaning against the frame. 

She Beca looked amused, causing Chloe to glare at her. “Maybe wear a dress?” 

Chloe’s nose wrinkled. “I only have stripper dresses.” That she should definitely donate, or get rid of. 

Beca hummed. “Mesh shorts?” 

“I guess, yeah.” 

“We can go buy some stuff after your appointment if you want?” Beca suggested as Chloe wrestled out of her jeans and slid on a pair of shorts Beca lent her. 

“Yeah, definitely.” She needed bras, too. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

As her last ultrasound at 13 weeks, Chloe didn’t have to change when they got there, and she laid down on the cot as they waited for the tech to come in. Beca stood by her side, scrolling through her phone. 

“So the Bellas’ results are in: 6 say boy, 4 say girl. I said girl.” 

Chloe had broken the news to the girls when they came back from Oregon and had once again received nothing but support. Bets started coming in over the gender, the due date, and whether Bean was going to come out with ginger hair. 

Chloe chuckled as she rubbed her bump with her palm. “You only said girl because I told you I felt like it was a girl.” 

Beca smirked. “They don’t have to know that.” Her expression softened as she pocketed her phone. “You excited to find out?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out. She was more anxious to hear about how Bean was doing and braced herself for bad news. 

“Hi there,” the tech greeted as she came in. “How are you doing, Chloe?” 

“Good. Hungry all the time.” 

The other woman laughed as she rolled the ultrasound machine closer. “Let’s take a look at that baby. Can you lift your top up for me and lower your shorts a little bit?” 

Chloe did so, reaching for Beca’s hand as the tech squirted some of that cold gel onto her tummy. 

“Alright, let’s see…” the woman drawled out as she moved the wand until she got the perspective she wanted. “Here we go.” 

“Oh, they got so big,” Chloe murmured in awe. 

“They’re moving around quite a bit,” the tech observed with a smile, pointing at the baby’s kicking legs. 

Beca gasped and tore her eyes away from the screen to glance at Chloe. “Can you feel that?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed, blinking back the tears pricking behind her eyes. “Feels like butterflies taking off in my belly.” 

“Strong heartbeat,” the tech continued. “Baby’s in the perfect position to tell their gender if you want to know?” 

“Yes, please,” Chloe said with a nod. 

“Looks like you’re having a baby girl, Chloe.” 

“A girl?” Chloe croaked out, a lump rising to her throat. The gender didn’t matter to her but knowing made it feel a thousand percent more real. She felt a squeeze to her hand and found Beca smiling down at her. “We’re in trouble. I was a handful as a kid.”

Beca chuckled. “If she has your eyes, I definitely am in trouble. Won’t be able to say no to anything she asks for, I’m warning you now.” 

The way they talked, it almost sounded like they were going to raise Bean together, and Chloe’s heart did another funny thing. Over the last couple of weeks, she had been experiencing weird feelings for Beca that went beyond the friendship line, but she was convinced it was just her hormones acting up like they did with her libido. Chloe felt aroused pretty much all the time, it was getting ridiculous. She also cried in front of a Budweiser commercial because the puppies were cute, so her body and emotions were definitely out of whack. 

The doctor came in shortly after, easing Chloe’s worries when she assured her the baby looked healthy, with normal measurements all around. They scheduled another ultrasound four weeks from now, and she and Beca were on their way with three copies of the ultrasound, one for Chloe, one to put on the fridge, and one Beca requested to store in her wallet. 

Beca drove them to Target next, and instead of heading to the maternity clothing section, Chloe went straight for the baby stuff, pulling a chuckle from Beca as she pushed the cart alongside. 

“Okay, I wanna buy everything,” Chloe mused aloud as she put a onesie back on the rack, even though she found it adorable.

“I know you’re still uncomfortable with it, but please don’t restrain yourself because it’s my money,” Beca said, as though reading Chloe’s thoughts. “I haven’t really had anyone to spend it on, so it’s my pleasure to get Bean whatever they need. Crib, car seat, changing table, stroller, clothes… you name it.” She smirked, nodding towards the rack. “So get that rainbow onesie, because it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Chloe giggled and nodded, her eyes shining with unspoken gratitude before she reached for the onesie. It was scary to think of how small her baby girl was going to be as a newborn, and Chloe was so glad she wasn’t doing this on her own. 

She selected five more, all animal-themed ones, then moved onto shirts and pants, showing Beca what she thought was cute to get her avail. She kept in mind that the Bellas and her parents were probably going to go overboard with gifts and paced herself on the quantity of stuff she dropped into the cart. 

“I feel like we should get the crib, stroller, and car seat from like, a special store?” Beca chimed in as they strolled through the blankets/swaddles section. She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think I trust Target brands when it comes to sturdiness. I actually strumbled across a car seat that looks amazing, it goes from that to a stroller in just a few folds and clicks.” 

Chloe cast her an amused look. “How did you stumble across that, exactly?” 

Beca’s cheeks reddened. “By looking up the best strollers on the market.” She cleared her throat when Chloe giggled. “I just have a lot of time to kill on the subway.” Another grimace. “Is that too invasive?” 

Chloe shook her head, reaching out to rest her hand on Beca’s forearm. The contact of her skin under her fingertips made Chloe swallow as her body immediately reacted. Freaking hormones. “Not at all. I promise.” 

Chloe managed to walk away from the baby part of the store before she bought the whole thing, and headed to the maternity wear, buying a couple of jeans with an elastic waistband, a belly band, a few bras, and a pregnancy pillow. 

“Your total is $843,50,” the cashier announced once he had rung everything up, and Chloe swallowed thickly, glancing at Beca with slightly wider eyes. 

“It’s fine, Chlo,” Beca insisted as she swiped her credit card through the device. She thanked the cashier and grabbed most of the bags, letting Chloe carry the two lighter ones. Everything easily fit into Beca’s large trunk, and Chloe slid in the passenger seat, buckling up. “Any particular craving for dinner? We can stop for take-out on the way home,” Beca said as she slid her sunglasses over her nose before pulling out of their parking spot.

“I could go for a burger and fries. And a milkshake.” 

Beca grinned. “Cool, I’ll stop at Shake Shack.” 

Once they got home, they hauled everything upstairs and stored it in the nursery for now, and Chloe changed into sweatpants and Beca’s Bellas hoodie which she had never given back, picking an episode of The Office for them to watch. 

“Oh, I forgot,” Beca said after they were done eating, pushing to her feet. “Stay put.” 

Chloe did as she was told, giving Beca a curious look when she walked back to the couch with a package. Setting her milkshake on the coffee table, Chloe plucked it from her hands. “What’s this?” 

“A little something for Bean,” Beca murmured as she sat back down beside her, folding one leg underneath and hugging the other to her chest. “I ordered it when we got back from Oregon and forgot to give it to you.” 

Chloe ripped the tape over the opening and peered inside, fishing the box out. “Belly headphones?” She asked even though that’s what it said on it, her voice wavering slightly as emotions once again rose to her throat. She could blame that on the hormones too, right? 

Beca nodded. “I read that babies can hear from 18 weeks on, and I thought it would be cool if Bean listened to music before she’s born. And you know nobody takes picking out a pair of headphones as seriously as I do, so I thought I was the right guy for the job.” 

A watery chuckle burst past Chloe’s lips. “This is amazing. Thank you.” She leaned forward to hug Beca, holding her tight. Her scent did another number on Chloe, and she inhaled sharply, willing her body to chill out as she backed away. “For this, and for today…” She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much. “I really don’t know what to say besides thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Chlo,” Beca said, a soft smile curving her lips. “I’m just happy you’re finding your way back step by step.” 

Chloe nodded, exhaling. The light at the end of the tunnel was just in sight, and while it was another long way to reach it, she felt like she could, and that on its own felt like a victory. 

[butgilinsky]

built for a different universe // fw

warning; language, character death, angst if i’ve ever seen it

summary; in which, fred weasley’s name is pulled from the goblet of fire

word count; 5.3k+

fred x reader with a sliver of goerge x reader

cedric diggory who? jk, but let’s pretend that the twins are 17 in this scenario, and cedric diggory isn’t chosen for the triwizard tournament(: 

you had always been the rational one between the two of you. well, the three of you. the weasley twins were anything but rational when it came to basic logic outside of the classroom. they were the clowns of hogwarts, and they enjoyed every second of it. 

it did, however, make your role in their life just that much harder. 

you cared for the weasley twins more than you cared to admit at times. though molly and arthur thanked you endlessly for repeatedly pulling their sons out of trouble, fred and george argued that you limited their fun when they were away from their parents. 

there are times, however, that you being the more rational of the three of you came in handy. though neither boy would admit it aloud to you, they were thankful for your rational way of life sometimes. when they had gotten caught out in the dark forest after hours, with no idea of how to get out, they were endlessly thankful for you pulling them out just before they found out what truly lurked in the trees. 

you had deemed yourself as the caretaker of the weasleys at a young age. you met fred and george on your first train ride to hogwarts and quickly learned that you were going to have to bust your ass to keep these boys in line. they weren’t the type to follow the rules, but instead find the most interesting ways to break them. even after you had been sorted in to slytherin, and them into gryffindor, you had stuck by their side, and them, yours. 

when ron came to hogwarts just a few years later, you promised molly that you’d look after him, since she couldn’t exactly count on fred and george to keep ron out of trouble. the same agreement came around when ginny stepped onto platform 9 3/4. 

fast forward a few years, and you seemed to be the one that needed to be taken care of. 

you had told them that this was a shit idea. you told them every time they brought it up. you didn’t understand why they couldn’t just allow the goblet to spit out a name that wasn’t theirs. any name would’ve done just fine, but not theirs. 

though you got george to promise you to not put his in, you weren’t entirely convinced he was telling the truth. fred wa always the harder one to convince to do the rational thing over the fun thing. it also didn’t help that george was easily persuaded by his brother. 

“please, freddie.” you tried to push your best face forward, eyes wide and bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly. 

the same lip that he had traced with his thumb any time it puffed out. the same lip that he had taken between his own too many times to count. the same lip that brought him the utmost joy, the one that he looked forward to kissing at the end of every night and the start of every morning. 

the same lip you had been furiously chewing on through the drawing names ceremony. your leg was bouncing furiously, so much so that fred and george had to tell you to calm down, twice. george promised that he hadn’t put his name inside, but he knew his brother did. he knew that fred’s need to compete in the tournament was stronger than his guilt that he felt straight away after placing the piece of parchment into the goblet. 

you had been angry when george told you, but not as angry as fred had been for his brother’s betrayal. he claimed that he couldn’t help it, cracking under the pressure of your gaze and spilling out the truth in a matter of seconds.

but that was days ago. days that had passed and only added to the anxiety that bubbled in your stomach. the anticipation had been too much, too suffocating. even in the great hall, sat between the twins and across the table from ron and his two best friends, the anticipation felt like a weight had been placed on your chest, weighing you down to the bench as you hoped and prayed for any other name to come out of the goblet. 

“fred weasley.” though the entire room seemed to erupt in claps and cheers, a few congratulations thrown at the boy beside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. 

he was stunned, not expecting his name to come fumbling out of the cup in the middle of the room. he didn’t expect to be chosen, there was no way he would’ve actually been chosen. the chances were so slim, he thought you were ridiculous to be so worried about it. but then his name was being called through the great hall, and he couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling in his chest. 

you did not feel excitement, though. your breath had escaped you, had you gasping for a new one. your leg had stopped bouncing, and your muscles had tensed. so much that fred had noticed, his wide grin faltering when you stood up abruptly, stepping over the bench and darting towards the door. 

snape had sent you a hard glare, but when you looked up at your professor and head of your house, he couldn’t ignore the sympathy bubbling inside of him. snape didn’t often show the children at hogwarts anything less than his tough exterior, not feeling much else besides distain and annoyance towards the kids, especially those outside of his house. but he had never seen you so distraught, and he knew how the calling of fred’s name must have shaken you, and decided to let you slip out of the large doors at the front of the hall.

when fred just stared at your retreating figure with a loss of words or thoughts of what to do, george stood up and followed you. he had paused for just a moment when he heard harry’s name following behind fred’s, but when the shock of a fourth name had passed through him, he was running out of the room to follow you. 

“y/n!” you stopped at the sound of your name echoing off of the walls. your heart sank into your stomach, your muscles relaxing with every passing second that made you feel like your body was giving up on you. 

your heart was racing, your breathing rapid and rigid as you fell into the arms of your best friend. 

“he’s a bloody idiot, y/n. you know that.” though they were meant to reassure you, perhaps pull a smile from you, they had your eyes welling up with a layer of tears that were bound to burst at any given moment. 

you weren’t surprised when george started to pull you in the direction of the gryffindor dormitories. you had been inside of the twins’ shared room more than you could recall, and he figured it was the only place you’d feel comfortable in your state of mind. there was no way you were going to cry into the chest of george weasley while running the risk of having your roommates burst in at any given moment. 

he expected you to fall into fred’s bed and pull the old knit blanket that you loved over your head, sob into the familiar pillow case until your idiot boyfriend returned from the great hall. he had been surprised when you fell into the opposite bed, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your head into your knees. 

“love, he’ll be alright.” george’s chest constricted at the sight of you so distraught. he had listened to you beg him the same way you begged fred not to put their names inside. you were more worried about the risk than you were excited about the reward. 

yes, you wanted fred and george to live their lives to the fullest. yes, you wanted their happiness above all else, but their happiness had been put on the back burner of your mind when their lives were at stake. 

you couldn’t lose the twins, you just couldn’t. you had never lived a day at hogwarts without them, and you weren’t going to start in your seventh year. you didn’t want to live in a world where one of the twins didn’t exist, and it just so happened that that very thought got through to george, not fred. 

when the door swung open and the boy of the hour walked inside, head held high with a wide grin spread across his face, you felt the weight of the world fall onto your shoulders. 

“i don’t know why you’re being so fussy. what’s done is done, love.” you stared at him in disbelief, unsure of who you were even looking at anymore. 

“what’s done is done? merlin, fred. she asks you to do one thing, and you can’t give her the decency-”

“she asks me to do loads more than just this one thing, georgie, and you know that. she wants us to sacrifice our youth to be some rigid, boring pricks!” you sniffled, pushing yourself onto your feet. you didn’t want to be in a room where you were being spoken about as if you weren’t even there. 

“merlin forgive me for not wanting to see you hoisted away in a bodybag, freddie.” you reached for the door but stopped when he grabbed your wrist, turning you around to face him. 

“why can’t you just be happy for me? you know how bad i wanted this, and you’re making me feel like i’ve turned over to the dark side or something.” your eyes found his, big and pleading for you to just give him this one thing. just this once. 

“i am happy for you freddie, but i don’t know if i can stand by and watch you offer up your life for some stupid title.” you pulled your wrist out of his hand and opened the door, almost annoyed to see the younger weasley siblings standing outside of the door. 

you pushed a small smile to your lips, contrasting the tears building up in your eyes that they both detected quickly. ron gave you a pained look, unsure of how he was supposed to handle all of this newfound news he had been given. you felt for him, truly, having a brother and a best friend entering the same deathly tournament. 

you ruffled ron’s hair with a hand, bringing a small smile out of the boy who had been looking to you for how he was meant to handle all of this. you had become an older sister to ron over the years, given that he saw you in and outside of school so often. 

“c’mon ginny, i’ll walk you back.” your hand fell to her shoulder, urging her to turn and walk back to her side of the dormitories. 

“y/n!” you turned over your shoulder, eyes latched onto the boy who was unsure of how you were leaving things. the two of you didn’t fight often, and when you did it was always resolved by the time you left one another. “i love you.”

you nodded, a pained look in your eyes telling him all he needed to know. he had royally fucked this one up, and there was no way of fixing it. 

“i love you too.” your voice was small, and you had turned back around and stalked off with ginny faster than he could rush forward and try to fix things. 

“you’ve made a mess for yourself.” ron huffed out, shoulders falling in defeat while he stalked off to his own room. 

it had taken you a few days to accept the fact that fred was going to compete in the triwizard tournament. you knew that it had been set into stone already, and there was no going back at this point. you had to support him, because with his head swimming with uncertainty of the terms the two of you had been on, he was going to be distracted. and this wasn’t a time that the weasley boy could afford to be distracted. 

you hadn’t been all that worried through the first phase of the competition. with charlie being a care taker for dragons, fred had his fair share of experience with the very creatures. he knew how to handle them, and that showed in his performance. 

he had retrieved the egg quicker than the other three competitors, and you had to stop yourself from kicking a fifth year for mumbling something about him having an unfair advantage and, as she called it, dumb luck. though george and ron snickered beside you, you felt anger bubble in your chest at the girl whispering to her friend just behind you. 

you hadn’t been given the opportunity to worry during the second round, given that you were the person dumbledore chose to tie under water for fred to find later on. yes, he had thought of putting george down there, but with ron already down there for harry to retrieve, he thought putting another weasley sibling at risk may have been a bit over the line. 

when you resurfaced, coughing out water that built up in your lungs, clinging onto your boyfriend, you had congratulated him in a breathless tone. he smiled widely at you, hugging you tightly just before dragging you over to the dock. 

george helped you up, though his attention quickly shifted back to the lake in search of his younger brother. you sat beside him, gripping onto the towel that you had been handed as the three of you waited anxiously for ron to pop up.

after he had, the weasleys were given the opportunity to breathe. everyone had made it through the first two rounds safe and sound. fred had won the round, finding you faster than the other contestants were able to found their respective people, and tackled you in a celebratory hug at the announcement. 

you had squealed in excitement when he lifted you and spun you in a circle, planting a passionate kiss onto your lips in front of everyone. the cheers had deafened in your ears, your focus solely on the boy in front of you, arms secure around your waist while you held his head in your hands. 

but then the last round came, and you were forced to stare at the front of a maze with no knowledge of what was going on the entire time. you sat with the weasleys, trying to reassure ginny and ron that everything would be okay. hermione and ron were anxious, that much was obvious, and you did your best to be there for them as well as ginny. 

george had the job of keeping you calm. he sat beside you, arm secure around your shoulders and tucking you into his side for as long as you needed. he made conversation with you while you waited for fred and harry to leave the maze. 

when they both appeared at the same time, the crowd erupted into a loud slew of claps and cheers. but you were frozen in your spot, smile absent from your face as your eyes locked onto your boyfriend lying flat on his back with harry hunched over him. 

“something’s wrong.” you told george, your hand practically crushing his when you pulled him down the steps with you. “georgie we have to go down there.” 

“okay, okay. let’s go.” 

“y/n, what’s-”

“you stay here. don’t move.” you told ron sternly, eyes wide and unwavering as you shifted them between him and ginny. “both of you, stay here.” 

ron nodded, though he was unsure of why you were so tense and stern in your command. he couldn’t see anything that you could, standing almost a foot shorter than you and having poorer eyesight. 

“don’t move, either of you.” george figured he’d throw one in there for good measure, hoping that both of you ordering the two to stay in their spot would work better than just one.

you ran down the steps, george in tow the entire way down. just before your feet hit the dirt, snape stepped in front of you, the same expression he always held evident in his features, except for the emotion in his eyes you didn’t often see. 

“miss y/l/n, i’m going to have to ask you and mr. weasley to go back to your seats.” you shook your head, anxiety brewing inside of you with every second that passed and no new knowledge of fred’s well being given to you. 

“professor, please.” when a man walked up to snape and leaned into his ear, you focused your attention and hearing into the man’s words. 

“keep everyone in their seats. a boy’s just been killed.” your body turned rigid, your eyes leaving snape’s to look over his shoulder, watching harry sob over fred’s body that hadn’t moved since he had reappeared in front of the entire crowd. 

“y/n.” george and snape spoke at the same time, but you shoved past both of them, eyes locked onto the same head of red hair that you had seen just hours prior. 

you remembered the way you had kissed him, muttering a soft “good luck, and be safe.” you had told him the same thing at the beginning of each round, threatening him if he dared to be anything less than careful. 

and here he was, lying just a few feet away from you, unconscious and unmoving. your feet took you over faster than your brain could process it. 

you sunk to your knees, shaky hands reaching out for the boy you had more love for than you could describe to anyone. you felt hands on your shoulders, though you shoved them off quickly and told the person to leave you alone. you weren’t sure how many people were watching, or how many had told you to step back, but you did know that you were ignoring each and every one of them. 

the sinking feeling in your chest had been worse than anything you’d ever felt before. you thought of every fight the two of you had in the past, none of them able to amount to the feeling that was currently tugging at your chest. 

george felt a similar feeling, brewing in his stomach and chest as he watched you wail over his brother. he told the people around you that it had been best to just leave you, none of them would be able to tear you away from fred even if they all worked together. 

“love.” george whispered, reaching out to grip your shoulder, though you flinched away from him as soon as he made contact. “love, you have to get up.” 

you shook your head, letting out a strangled sob as you gripped onto the shirt fred was wearing. you couldn’t let go, no matter how hard you tried. you didn’t want to leave him here, like this. there wasn’t anything you’d be going towards, leaving everything behind instead. there was no motivation to step away from fred.

“george.” george turned at the sound of his name, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision, but he was able to spot his younger brother and sister standing out in front of the rest of the crowd. 

“we told you to stay put!” george yelled, prying your eyes away from fred to look up at ron and ginny who stood a few yards away from you. 

you couldn’t find the words to say to the youngest weasleys. there wasn’t anything that came to your mind, no matter how hard you tried. you always found the words to reassure others, no matter the defeat you felt within yourself. 

this was the first time ron or ginny had seen you too stunned to find words, hands pressed lightly against fred’s cheeks, eyes filled with tears and lips parted with no sound passing through them. you racked your brain for something, anything, but came up with nothing. 

you felt another pair of hands on your shoulders, gripping tightly enough to pull you from your spot on the floor, the front of your pants now covered in dirt, as well as your hands. your cheeks were wet with tears, and your throat scratchy from yelling. 

you couldn’t recall the last few minutes. you weren’t sure what you’d said or done in the time that you were begging for fred to come back to you. the entire school, as well as two others, had seen you clawing at the boy beneath you, desperation evident in every move and cry. your housemates were stunned, never knowing you to be the soft one out of the three of you. none of them had even seen you shed a tear, let alone look so defeated, despite the circumstances. 

snape felt an unfamiliar feeling in his chest at the sight of you. the relationship he built with you was unlike any others with his students, even the ones in his own house. he knew your familial life wasn’t ideal, though that seemed to be a common thing amongst those in your house and the school overall. he had been there for you through your first few years at hogwarts. 

he had became a father you weren’t given the opportunity of having at a young age. he was a mentor that you never dreamed of having, and had given you the care that a parent usually gave to their child. he had never seen you like this, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to handle it, but he had to figure it out quickly for your sake. 

when snape tried to pull you away from fred’s body, you restrained against him, moving to kneel back down. he stopped you, wrapping his arms securely around you and allowing you to sink into his embrace. he had locked eyes with george, who was utterly defeated in this moment. how was he meant to care for you and his younger siblings while simultaneously going through the same thing he was meant to save you from? 

“no no no no, you can’t make me.” you struggled against snape one last time before his hand held the back of your head, securing you against his chest while you sobbed uncontrollably. 

“we’re going.” you shook your head, looking up at him with wide eyes filled to the brim with tears. 

“i can’t. ron- ginny- george. george.” you let out a strangled sob at the reminder that george was going through the same soul crushing feeling that you had been. 

you turned to find his eyes, watching his shoulders sink as he let the defeat catch up to him. he didn’t know how to take care of himself as well as three other people. he always had you and fred to lean on. he didn’t know what he was meant to do in this moment, and you caught onto that quickly. 

something flipped inside of you. you straightened your shoulders and wiped your cheeks, turning out of snape’s embrace and moving towards the weasley siblings. george’s head hung low, tucking it into your neck as soon as you were close enough to him. 

you held an arm out towards ron and ginny, who were quick to rush into the two of you. you held the three of them, sobbing and asking questions you didn’t have the answers to. you may never have had the answers, but they couldn’t stop from firing off the rhetorical questions. 

“c’mon.” you whispered softly, patting george on the back and pulling back form the three siblings. “we shouldn’t stay here.” 

the three of them nodded, allowing themselves one more moment with their lost brother before turning into each other for a needed sense of comfort. you were left with the last goodbye, chest tight with anticipation. 

you kneeled down beside the boy, pressing your lips against his one last time. you felt your heart clench when they didn’t press against yours with the same passion that yours had. your thumb ran across his cheek slowly, catching the tear you dropped in its wake. 

you were pulled back form him one last time, following behind the three that walked in the same direction as you, with hearts just as heavy as your own. 

a few hours later, you found yourself lying in fred’s bed, ron curled around your leg with his head in your lap. ginny was curled into your other side, arm secured around your abdomen and tears dried onto your shoulder. 

after hours of mourning the loss, and trying to fill the air with joy filled memories, the four of you were exhausted. nobody had expected to to see any of you for the rest of the night. hermione and harry stopped by to offer their condolences as well as help if it was needed, but ron could barely look at them for longer than ten seconds without bursting into tears again. 

harry tried to lighten the mood, even if it hadn’t worked at all, by letting you all know that fred had looked after harry through the entire competition. it didn’t surprise you, to hear that fred offered his wisdom and experience in order to help harry through this. after all, harry wasn’t even meant to compete in the entire competition. 

but now it was just the four of you, ginny and ron asleep on the small bed that belonged to fred while you and george sat opposite each other. you offered george a tired smile across the room, watching the corner of his lips turn up into a smile that he was clearly forcing to the surface. 

“i’m sorry, george.” your voice was scratchy, matching the feeling you felt at the back of your throat. 

“you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, love. you were right. we were fools to offer up our names to the goblet.” your heart thudded harshly against your chest, memories of your numerous attempts to stop them from putting their names in the goblet rushed to the forefront of your mind. 

george stood from his place on his own bed, moving to open the wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room the belonged to fred. your eyebrows pulled together as you unraveled yourself from ron and ginny. 

you carefully stood from the bed when you were sure you hadn’t woken them, watching them curl into the sheets and pillows that still had fred’s scent laced within them. a soft smile pulled at your lips at the sight before you turned back to george, watching him look for something. 

“georgie, what-”

“just let me find it, please.” you nodded, picking up on the desperation in his voice as he begged you to just give him a second. he moved from the wardrobe to the desk, opening every drawer and lifting every item, looking everywhere for something you were still unaware of. 

when he found it, you watched his shoulders relax. he stood straight up, eyes locked onto box sitting in the palm of his hand before holding out to you. the box wasn’t familiar to you, though the shape of it narrowed down what it was capable of being. 

you stared at the box, eyes moving up to look at george with uncertainty and hesitation swimming in them. he nodded, stretching his arm further in an attempt to have you grab the box from him. 

“he’d want you to have it.” he whispered, voice cracking as he allowed himself to remember that his brother had died mere hours ago. 

you reached for the box with a shaky hand, unsure if you’d want to know what was inside of the box. but you trusted georgie, so you took the box from him and sat in the chair pushed against the desk he just searched through. 

you flipped the box open, choking out a gasp and a strangled sob at the sight in front of you. 

the thin band was silver, given the fact that you’d spent an entire failed study session, ranting about how much you disliked gold jewelry. though fred would tease that it was because of your house, you’d ensure him that you had always hated gold jewelry. you claimed that silver complimented you more than gold ever could. 

the diamond was small, given his social standing and your endless reassurance that big diamonds were gaudy and ugly in comparison. you told him more times than you could count, that even if he had all the money in the world, you wanted a smaller diamond. 

it couldn’t have been a better ring if you had made it yourself. 

“he was going to give it to you after we graduated. he was scared you’d turn him down and call him crazy if he did it before then.” you let out a soft laugh, one that he returned with a confident smile. 

george watched you slide it onto your finger, tears pooling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks as you stared at it with a longing look in your eyes. 

“maybe i should’ve waited-” he didn’t have a chance to finish before you were throwing yourself into his arms, your own locked around his neck tightly. 

“thank you, georgie.” you whispered soflty and pressed your lips to his cheek. “thank you for everything.” 

you got questions about the ring, choosing to ignore all of the insensitive ones and respond to the ones with pure intentions. you listened to molly gush about going to the shops with fred in search of that very ring. ginny would aimlessly twirl it around your finger at dinner in the great hall, claiming that it made her feel closer to fred. 

ron didn’t pay much mind to it, though he knew about the ring that sat int he bottom of his brother’s desk. he had teased him about it for months, despite fred barking back with the same comeback every single time. 

“you only wished you had someone like y/n.” 

george would never admit it to you, but the ring that always sat on your finger brought an uneasy feeling to him. it bothered him that he hadn’t been the one ot put it there, though he had been in a way. he loved the sight of the smile that stretched across your lips every time you looked down at it, but when that smile shifted up towards himself, he felt a weight lifting off of his shoulders. 

the day that the ring moved from your finger to a thin chain on your chest confused him. he had asked, but you shrugged, insisting that you couldn’t live a life that was built for a different universe. sure, it was the life you wanted for longer than you could remember, but you needed to build a new life for yourself, now.

a life that allowed the uneasy feeling in george’s stomach diffuse. a life that included george by your side through every moment, but not in the way he had been over the course of your time at hogwarts. 

a life that allowed george to put a ring on the same finger years later. suddenly, the ring that you often tucked into your shirts no longer bothered the boy. 

he knew you would always have a part of your heart reserved for fred, but so did he. 

perhaps you and fred were meant to be in a different dimension, in a different universe. the two of you had built something so beautiful, but this universe hadn’t been the one he was meant to be in. so for now, you would be able to live with the idea that maybe you and fred had been built for a different universe. 

perhaps this universe was meant for you and george. 

[ladydarklord]

The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

[papers4me]

Plot points I’d love to see explained in future furuba eps: (from an anime only eyes)

These are things that are bothering me since they are connected to the core plot & characters’ depth, trauma, progression & development . Hopefully, they’ll be explained later.

The obvious: kyoko’s “I won’t forgive you”. I MUST KNOW WHY!!!

How do kid kyo & kyoko know each other in the first place? She’s friends with a sohma’s adult? friends with kyo’s mom? works at elementary his school? she’s the lunch lady? sells hot dog nearby? A cleaning lady at the dojo or sth?

How long did she know kyo to start talking abt tohru & more importantly her darkest secret of hurting tohru unintentionally? It is weird to just meet a child & say, I’d like to tell you bt the time my husbando died...fun times!

We were told by the grandpa, she “went away from home for a long time”, What changed her mind & let her come home to tohru????? What snapped her from her depression? What made her remember the daughter she abandoned? Sometimes, I praise furuba for its realistic depiction of trauma but sometimes, the very thing furuba excels in is the least explained thing for certain characters! Example, the unfortunate time dedicated for the MC tohru.. Also, it is the least followed up thing for other characters. Example: Tohru again & also Isuzu. Hope these are the only examples in the whole show, don’t add kyo, or akito to the list of quickly & lazily wrapped stories, please.

Kyoko told young kyo in ep7, “then I got busy with moving out”. Moving from where? Was she & her husband living outside Tokyo? Moving with her work? He got moved for work? They were living with the grandpa & then moved out?

All the time she knew kyo, she never brought her daughter with her to play with him? Never invited him to their house? Why? was she too scared of kyo’s monster true form? she knew abt kyo’s true form?????

Why is her husband’s face hidden? Is he not that important? But even Akira had a face! His face remained hidden even in the pic tohru showed kyo. I mean, yeah, I don’t really care what he looks like, but it was a weird thing to do. Is this some weird artistic move the anime does? What’s the point?

kyoko is the spitting image of Arisa. Same hair, same style, same color schemes, same mandatory addition of purple in her clothes, even same gangasta background. Had I not seen the ED of Arisa & Kureno lovey dovey together, I’d guessed him to die like tohru’s dad. I wouldn't be surprised if he really looks like kureno. The pattern is too obvious to ignore.

Kyoko looks so fond of child kyo. Alas this changed now!. Why does kyoko hate kyo now!!!!!! WHY!!!!! WHHHHYYYYYYY!!! T_T

I want to see the kyoko that kid kyo saw!!!! that’s the most realistic kyoko. Such a shame that kyoko become similar to se1 & 2 tohru: a mother & a fixer only. Tohru is becoming a real person now in se3 with issues & weaknesses, granted not much depth unfortunately, but it is way better than se1 & 2 tohru of  “mommy said so”, or “yuki’s momma”. Now she’s a real 17-18 years old girl with issues & romance. Kyoko remains pure, only human in the grandpa’s narrative. In se3, ep7 intro, she looked real for few seconds, then the wind moved her hair & weird words of wisdom came out: “look for your answers”. -_-’‘.. Lesson of the day time again! very direct & without context!

Also, EVERYTHING ABOUT KYO! give me the kyo’s darkest storm & the following brightest clearance! can’t wait!!! can’t believe the last time we went deep with him was se2 ep 9! make it hurt & make it heal! Above all, make it real!!

Ok, out of 13 ep, we’re reaching ep 8. Meaning there are 6 eps to at least answer some these questions! Still enough time to explore kyo’s development,  akito’s redemption (as seen in the ED), & hopefully, add depth to tohru! Things could get better in the character exploration department. They have to. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Also, kindly don’t answer my questions,they’re not directed towards anybody. I’m just thinking out aloud & just posting them for a reference to come back to them later after the finale.

thanks<3

[gmfiswriting]

A Stark for sure - Chapter Two

A/N: THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE! So here you go; actual interaction between Tony and Calypso.

warning: angst-y lil piece

word count: 2.6 k 

---

I should’ve taken that ride. Calypso sighed.

Brooklyn, 10 minutes ago.

“Yo kid, you sure you don’t want a ride?” Marcus yelled from across the street. “It’s almost 3 am, can’t be letting a kid like you walking home at this time.”

Calypso smiled as she was yanking at the now locked door of the restaurant. She turned towards Marcus’ direction and waved him off, “nah! I’m fine. Y’know it’s only a 15 minute walk.”

“You don’t know what can happen in 15 minutes!” He stated as he crossed the road again. Marcus, 17, the suave Latino senior at Midtown High School. The typical, lean, curly haired, tan guy that every girl and guy wanted to be friends with. “Plus you’re a little kid.” Marcus smirked and leaned against the window. Smirking, he casually pokes her side.

The action cause Calypso to jump and grab his hand in shock. “Marc! DON’T DO THAT!” She pouted and lightly kicked in his direction whilst taking a step back. “I may be little...” causing the boy to smirk and try to poke her again even though the girl held his wrist firmly, “but don’t forget who tutors you in chemistry, psychology and all that!” Calypso smirks as Marcus rolled his eyes. The usual ‘I’m-smarter-than-everyone-and-I-know-it’ Calypso Abreo vibe.

Marcus stood up straight and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re smart. Everyone knows.” He led her towards his motorbike as she struggled to walk away, “c’mon kid. I gotta make sure you get home safe or Mr. Lee will actually have my balls...” Marcus shivered at the thought while Calypso smirked and pulled away from him.

“Three thing. First, I’d pay to see tha- STOP!” She screamed as he poked her side again. Huffing, she continued, “secondly, I am walking home. I promise to call or text once I’m there.” He stared at her and she stared back.

“Fine!”

The girl smiled as they said their goodbyes. She turned and walked down the street as Marcus pulled up next to her again, “you forgot the third thing.” He pointed it out. Calypso kept walking as she stopped at their seperating street, she smiled innocently before insulting him by saying.

“I’d never let you drive again.” He gasped as crossed the road. A jab to his ego.

“I drive great!”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

Now, she stood there in an alley (which she shouldn’t have turned into) with a man holding a knife lazily.

“Give me your fucking money!”

“You sound like the vine.” She thought out loud before looking up towards a window, where she saw a woman talking into a phone frantically before signalling to the girl that the police were coming.

Letting out a sigh, she turned towards the man again and began to distract him. “Look man, I’m just 15. I have no money, unless $10 is enough for you. Y’know what,” she rambled on as she shifted from foot to foot, shuffling towards the trash cans as the man growled and lunged at her.

Calypso jumped back as he fell to the ground and grabbed the lid for the trash can before swinging it towards the man’s head. He yelled and grabbed his head as Calypso kicked the knife away and hit him with the lid every time he tried getting up.

“Hands up!” A husky voice sounded from the entrance. Calypso dropped the heavy item and turned towards the voice.

There stood Captain Holt, Detective Peralta and Detective Rosa. Three individuals that the young girl had gotten to know better over the past 2 years she had been living in Brooklyn. She gulped as Detective Rosa rushes past her and arrested the man before listing his rights.

“Now why are you out this late, kid?”

“Stuck on night duty, I see.” Calypso smirked up towards Detective Jake Peralta as Captain Holt stared down at her. “Fine. I finished late and I was walking home; wrong turn I guess...”

“You shouldn’t be walking home.” She wanted to interrupt the Captain but he grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her towards the car, “you know you shouldn’t do that. So you’ll be staying at the station until someone can come pick you up.”

---

“... Tony?” Happy called out. His friend hadn’t uttered more than a one word answer the whole drive; simply staring out the window or reading Pepper’s messages, not answering them though.

They had been parked outside the station for no longer than a minute. “Want me to go in w-,” before he could finish his sentence, Tony opened his door and told Happy to follow him.

Like a switch, the infamous ‘asshole’ Tony Stark came to life and his charisma overflowed. He smirked and walked up to the reception where he got instructions to head straight up stairs.

---

Calypso had been sitting by Gina Linetti’s desk, as she waited for Tony Stark. She didn’t know whether to call him dad, their interactions halted about 3 years ago. “Gina...” she called out to the brunette. “Please don’t be surprised about who picks me up. Like don’t instagram it or something...”

“Is it Beyoncé?”

“No but-.”

“Then I won’t care.” Gina answered, never even looking up from her phone.

Ding.

The elevator open and he stepped out. As he examined the room, Tony saw that long dark brown (almost black) hair. Calypso, he thought. People stopped and stared at him. Tony Stark. An Avenger. Iron Man was standing in their pen. They all started rushing towards him.

“Can I have a photo?”

“I love the Avengers.”

“I’m such a big fan.”

The usual comments while Tony tried to push past them towards the young girl. Gina stood and rushed towards the crowd whilst Calypso had stood up and waited by the desk; observing what was happening and not wanting to throw herself into the sea of people.

Hearing the commotion, Captain Halt walked out. “Everyone!” His workers stopped and stared at him, “back to your stations!” He demanded and was left slightly shocked, not that many would know from his reaction. Turning from Tony Stark to the young girl, he connected the dots. Nodding his head and gesturing towards his office for the two men and Calypso to talk.

“So, I’m guessing your Calypso���s father...” The Captain dragged on to which the Tony had confirmed. “Well. I’d just like to inform you of what had happened tonight and then we’ll see if you want to press charges.”

Calypso groaned. “No charges are to be pressed for me.” She stood and grabbed her bag, continuing her statement. “There’s no point. It’s a waste in time and money. He did commit assault and can be tested for substance abuse; give the man rehab not a shitty community service order.”

“Honey,” Tony started and turned towards his daughter to which she uncomfortably looked away from. This didn’t go unnoticed by the room, “you could’ve been hurt.”

“There’s no point in it, though.” The men knew she wasn’t going to ask for charges so Captain Holt pressed on.

“Fine. If no charges are to be pushed then please make sure you’re not walking home alone in the middle of the night. Mr. Stark, Mr. Hogan, please ensure this from now on. Good night, gentleman.” Raymond Holt stood and shook their hands before opening the door.

Walking out, Happy took charge while Raymond stood in his spot; staring down anyone that watched the father and daughter duo. Tony’s arm was wrapped around Calypso’s shoulder to shield her and comfort her from the stares. The girl only felt unsure about everything. How to react to the stares, the whispering, the contact with the man next to her. It was confusing that it was a fact her father was there in minutes for her, not questioning why but she knew he felt the need to make sure she was safe and okay. Maybe it was guilt but it truly wasn’t

AS they sat in the car, Tony couldn’t stop gaping like a fish; completely unsure on what to say or do while the young girl just stared out the window while feeling the same, if not more, uncertainty. The only time she had spoken when she told Happy her address and she wasn’t surprised about the fact that her father furrowed his brows to the new information. She had a guess that the man didn’t know the news about her mother but she couldn’t just bring it up. Sitting up straight and turning towards him with a small smile. “You okay, da-Mr. Stark?”

Happy looked at the central mirror to gauge his friend’s reaction to his precious daughter not calling him by that simple title. “Oh. Yeah. Perfect.” Tony nodded and slapped that stupid smirk on to which Happy shook his head to but brought a frown to Calypso’s innocent face. ‘She sees right through me,’ he thought to himself. She frowned more and this caused him to start blurting out random questions such as,

So how have you been?

So you work at a restaurant? Wait no café. No, a restaurant. Job experience is cool-important.

Don’t you have school tomorrow?

A cough interrupted the flustered old man’s nervous speech but luckily Calypso had given enough effort to sustain the conversation. “We’re here,” Happy spoke as he pulled up outside the townhouses. It made sense that Florence would choose this area to raise his girl. Happy and Tony knew her to be a comprising woman; not one to give up the bustling, city life but wanting to still live something suburb-able.

Staring at the townhouses, Tony started to think. Think about what could have been. Would there have been days where he would be stuck in his office and Florence would have to pry him away from his work? Days where he would have a casual stroll with Calypso when she was feeling overwhelmed? Nights spent watching movies together on the couch? Maybe a time where he would finally be able to cook something edible?

A million thoughts ran through his head and Calypso stared at him, wandering about the same things. What would life have been with him there? Where would she be? Who would she be?

“Um.” She spoke aloud and opened the door cautiously, “thanks for the ride home.” Smiling towards both men and exiting the car quickly. Crossing the street safely, a hand wrapped around her arm gently. Turning to the person, Tony was staring down at her.

“I’m sorry…” Confusion was written on her face so he elaborated, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there and I’m sorry I never tried to reach out…” He continued to apologise but it was one line that got to her. Happy watched from the car but saw the girl’s expression start to fall. A reaction he remembered that was identical to her mother’s. One that would only show when she was truly overwhelmed. “I’m sorry to you and your mother that I wasn’t there but I promise to be there from now on. For both of you.” Tears ran down her face, this was too much. All of this was too much. Calypso started to gasp for air and pushed him harshly. Shocked and fearful of the reaction, he stumbled back into his friend’s arms as the girl swiftly entered her home.

---

“What did I do?” Tony’s head was in his hands. He hadn’t been muttering to himself down in his lab before Pepper had dragged him out to the kitchen to ensure he at least ate something. The man had been stuck in his mind since the whole ordeal. Happy had to reassure him while Rhodes had tried to distract him with a new app Peter had showed the other, Tik Tok.

Steve and Natasha had walked in and out the dining area about 4 times, all unnoticed by the genius. “Tones, you good?” Natasha spoke right into his ear, very loudly. The only reaction she got was a sigh, a shrug and more mumbling.

His other teammates started to show up for lunch. Sam and Bucky were (unfortunately for everyone) to set the table which took the whole duration for the large meal to be cooked. Wanda smiled as she continued to cook and spoke softly to Tony. James Rhodey had filled everyone that something had happened and now they needed to make sure Tony didn’t spiral and make another Ultron. Bruce had to manoeuvre Tony to a seat at the table before they all ate. Chatter was small but steady; everyone uncomfortable with the state their friend was in, Peter especially. He had been holding in a question. Claypso Abreo. One of the nicest girls from Midtown. The sweetest, cutest girl that almost, if not every guy had a crush on. He needed to know how the man knew his crush; not that he had a crush on her (well not that he admit it).

“Hey Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice was louder than usual but no one paid mind to it. “How do you know Cal?”

Tony turned slowly to his protégé, “Cal?” Everyone froze. This was the first word he had actually spoke aloud and an actual answer to any question.

The boy gulped as his team/childhood heroes were staring him down, “yeah… Calypso.” That name again. Steve and Natasha shared a look again. “Everyone calls her Cal. She goes to my school. Big deal at my school. She’s really cute and smart and funny. An actual genius smart too. Like we’re meant to be in the same classes but she’s doing senior AP classes now.”

Tony continues to stare at the boy. This was a lot of information about his daughter coming at him at once. Rhodey was listening too but was watching the other’s reaction towards this scene; all of them eating whilst staring at either Peter’s rambling or Tony’s awed expression while still maintain another conversation. No one seemed to notice the loud booming steps walking towards the kitchen.

“… I don’t think she knows I exists. Like we met when she transferred into my calc class halfway through freshman year. Heard she had to move back to New York when her mum got sick. We bonded over a lot though. Oh yeah apparently she was born here in Man-“ The boy felt embarrassed. He had just realised how much of a simp he sounded like but he couldn’t shut up.

“Her mum got sick?” Rhodey questioned.

Peter stopped and stared at him, nodding. “Yeah. Cancer.”

Tony stiffened. “Cancer?”

“Yeah. Something in the brain? Cal changed when she died. I remember she didn’t show up to class for like a month…” Peter dragged on but Tony’s heart stopped. His hands started to sweat and its seemed like air was a pill he couldn’t swallow. His head simultaneously felt as light as a feather and too heavy to keep up. Steve stood up as he saw his friend swaying. The others stood too but Rhodey who stared down at his plate in shock

Everyone was scared. They called out for him as he stumbled back out of his chair and tried to run out. The team followed him out. He just needed to run away from that information. He couldn’t process it because to him it simply wasn’t real. Tony bumped into a body that held him up. He couldn’t resist as 4 simple words ran through his mind.

Florence. Died.

She’s. Dead.

Nick Fury held Tony up with a syringe in his hand, completely aware of the staring. Fury had an apologetic look on his face and that’s when he realised, Nick knew. Fury knew everything. He started grasping for air and pulling away from him. The brunette looked towards his teammates for help. Steve, Vision and Rhodes all stepped forward but Fury injected with the liquid into his neck with no problem and they all watched as the man’s eyes fluttered close.

And the last thing he heard was Fury’s voice whispering, “Stark. I’m sorry.”

[alonely-dreamer]

Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 35: Dangerous Opportunities

Summary: Mackenzie, Elijah and Klaus keep busy in New-Orleans...

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 2856

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23: Part 1 | Chapter 23: Part 2 | Chapter 23: Part 3 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 (Part 1) | Chapter 25 (Part 2) | Chapter 25 (Part 3) | Chapter 26 (Part 1) | Chapter 26 (Part 2 & 3) | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32  | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34

I made Marcel everything that he is.

I treated him like a son.

And when my father chased me and my family from New-Orleans a hundred years ago we believed Marcel was killed.

We each mourned him in our own way.

Yet, when I returned, I found not only had he survived… he had thrived.

Instead of seeking us out, instead of sticking together as one, he made a choice, to take everything my family had built and make it his own.

Now he is living in our home.

He is sleeping in our beds.

The letter ‘M’ he stamps everywhere… it’s not for Marcel.

It’s for Mikaelson.

I want it all back.

And if I have to push him out to get it, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

 ***

 Mackenzie’s giggles filled the room. “Stop it,” she kept repeating, but she didn’t mean it, and he knew that. They had started new games together, some even new to Elijah, as if Mackenzie was his muse inspiring him dirty little games he’d only play with her. It was innocent, at first, but soon, Mackenzie became more comfortable with him, more confident, and the stains of blood on the white bed sheets were so common now the compelled staff knew to change them almost every day. The implications of their activities only made them want each other more. Mackenzie, because she knew the effect her blood had on him, and Elijah, because he would never experience anything like this with anyone else other than her. Sure, he knew he would never love anyone the way he loved Mackenzie, but it wasn’t just about love. And that was something that made Mackenzie feel powerful. That was the reason why, sometimes, she refused to take his blood after they were done. So that she’d keep the marks. So that he knew they were there. His marks on her body. Claiming her. And she loved the way it made him feel when he saw them too.

While Mackenzie and Elijah were enjoying what both Katherine and Rebekah had called their ‘honeymoon period’, Hayley wished for death. Well, maybe not literally. But she did pretty much hate her life, and she didn’t have faith that it would get better in the next eighteen years. She was uncomfortable in every way. Not only was she pregnant with the world’s most hated supernatural creature, but her future baby’s father also was a total psychopath who didn’t see her as anything more than an incubator for his miracle baby. He had forbidden her from leaving the house where he left her to rot every day. Every day, she was left with a couple acting not unlike two hormonal teenagers around the house, in other words, alone, alone with dusty books she had no intention of reading, and a TV remote giving her access to hundreds of channels she wasn’t interested in watching at all. In other words, days passed and stayed the same, aside from the rising heat, and growing belly.

To make matters worse, when Elijah wasn’t busy eating his girlfriend (in every sense of the word), he turned into an over-protective grandpa, building the nursery from scratch, making sure she had vitamin, protein, everything a pregnant woman needs according to What To Expect When You’re Expecting, which she wouldn’t be surprised to find on his nightstand. Not only did it make her uncomfortable, and even more irritable, but it made Mackenzie self-conscious and sad, not matter how hard she was trying to hide it.

At first, Hayley thought it was jealousy. But Mackenzie was better than that. And she had no bad intentions towards Hayley, or feelings, on the contrary. After they had made sure Marcel’s secret weapon, whatever it was, could not detect Mackenzie’s powers, they had unlinked Hayley to Sophie, making the witches regret their whole plan to bring the Originals back in town, giving them enormous doubts about whether they would still go on with the plan to dethrone Marcel or not. Of course, Klaus was a threat to them now, after all they had done. Kidnapping Hayley, using his child to blackmail him… The witches were scared, and now, they had bigger problems than Marcel, and the witch community of New-Orleans was starting to turn against Sophie, who had insisted her sister’s plan would work. But Klaus didn’t attack the witches. No, Klaus was still in a suspiciously good mood. Aside from keeping Hayley locked up in the house, he was pleasant with his brother, he was pleasant with Mackenzie, and he was pleasant with Hayley, to whom his nickname little wolf had stuck. He wasn’t acting like a future father, by any means. He didn’t check on Hayley’s health, never asked how she felt or if she needed anything. He didn’t spend any time in the nursery, helping Elijah, or didn’t even talk baby names with his future baby’s mother, not that anyone had expected that from him. No. Klaus spent all his time with Marcel, and they were seemingly getting along great, greater than great, in fact, as if they were the best of friends who weren’t hiding deadly secrets from each other.

Hayley had started to worry about his behavior. What if he really enjoyed spending time with Marcel? What if he just wanted to get back at the witches? What if he didn’t care? What if… all the bad things Klaus could do, that she could think of, or even scarier, that she couldn’t even imagine. However, her worries were put to rest one day, as Klaus came back home one night with a newly made vampire named Josh.

“Josh here,” he had told them, “will be my eyes and ears. My joker, my…”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Hayley had interrupted him. “He’s your spy.”

Klaus had gotten to Josh before Marcel even had the chance to put him under vervain. The vampire was compelled thoroughly by the Original hybrid and will be the key to taking Marcel down.

Though the existence of Josh was a relief for everyone, neither his brother nor his girlfriend trusted him in any way. Not when he was in such a good mood. He was plotting something, and they had a feeling it was nothing good, for anyone.

 ***

 Mackenzie caressed Elijah’s hair, her thoughts wandering back to earlier that day, when he had taken her to one of his favorite places in New-Orleans, a once peaceful beautiful park that was now a crowded and loud playground. She sighed, moving slightly but enough for Elijah to let a drop of blood slide down on Mackenzie’s neck. It drew a red line on her slightly tanned skin and the drop came to rest down her cleavage. She ignored it, she knew he’d take care of it later. Though the maids would have to change the sheets again in the morning.

She had almost forgotten his mouth buried in her neck, his free hand moving up and down her arm, as they were lying naked in their bed, resting from their long day of exploring the city Elijah had missed so much for the past century. He drank from her, her blood, the most delicious in the entire world, like she was the Fountain of Youth herself and he was the only one who got to drink from her, the only one who had that privilege, because he was the one who had discovered her. He had been there first, explored and found her and now she was his and only his and that thought would never cease to amaze him, to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world. But right now, Mackenzie felt everything but lucky, as she was haunted by a picture that would not leave her mind. A picture of his face in that park. And the look that said it all, even though he would never say it aloud, perhaps because he didn’t know it himself. A look she knew well now as it kept coming back, every time he looked at Hayley, every time he talked about the baby, about what Klaus should be doing but wasn’t, about everything he was doing in his brother’s place. It saddened him, perhaps unknowingly, and it saddened her as she knew she could never give that to him. In truth, no one could give that to him. But as powerful as she was, she felt she should be able to do anything, and everything she could do, but that.

He was content, lying in her arms, her hand in his hair, her blood in his throat, just enjoying the moment, enjoying her. But that was not the only reason why the question took him by surprise.

“Do you want kids?”

He froze, puzzled by the question. It surprised him, not only because it seemingly came out of nowhere, but mostly because he had buried that question and that answer a long time ago deep inside of him. So deep, in fact, that it was a hidden part of him, like an obvious take away of his very existence, of every single one of his actions. So deep, that the answer was practically engraved on his bones, carved onto his heart, like an invisible dormant pain that he would never let himself feel or remember. An immortal curse that could not be enchanted away and that will torment him for the rest of his eternity. Why that question? Why here, why now?

He slowly and gently retracted his teeth from her vein, licked the blood that escaped from the wound, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it from bleeding as he moved away and looked up at her. She had asked the question so quietly, like a whisper, like a spell echoing in his head, losing itself in time, making his bones quiver like an earthquake would make a house shake. That question had been asked and answered centuries ago. That choice had been made for him centuries ago. That choice had been taken away from him centuries ago.

She was looking away but turned towards him as he sat up and pulled the duvet to cover them. Not because they were cold, but because the time for their adult activities was obviously over. Now, they had to have another kind of adult conversation.

“I can’t have children, you know that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Mackenzie…”

“Do you? Want children of your own?”

“It doesn’t matter if I do. I can’t.”

“I know you do,” she said quietly, once again looking away, staring at that spot that didn’t exist.

“Where is this coming from?”

She shrugged. “Same place your regret is coming from…”

“I have no regret,” he replied, confused.

“You regret not being able to have children.”

“That is hardly anyone’s fault but my parents, and they are dead. There is no one to blame, though blame wouldn’t lead us anywhere.”

Her hand found his arm and her fingers caressed his skin as if touching him would fix everything.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know… I just thought… it’s unfair Klaus gets to have a child and you don’t. He clearly has no interest in it. But you do.”

“My interest in Hayley’s pregnancy doesn’t go beyond anything an uncle wouldn’t do. Though, I am no ordinary uncle.”

“This is no ordinary family.”

“And that is why your question has no answer, my love.”

She looked back at him. He rarely used such words in front of other people, but when they were alone, when they were being intimate, he called her all sorts of sweet words. ‘My love’ being the sweetest. ‘My love’ was the answer. It meant ‘don’t ask’, ‘it’s okay’, ‘I get it’, ‘I love you too’.

 ***

 Klaus’ face tired of his never-ending smiling. However, he was motivated. Nothing would stop him from reaching his goal. Nothing ever could. And certainly not a stupid smile.

He couldn’t tell which was louder, the screams or the music, however, he had stopped caring. He was tired and annoyed, and he wanted to leave this wretched court of amateurs as soon as possible. Marcel called himself a King and had forged himself a throne, but he was just some tyrant wannabe, a little boy in a paper crown running around with his friends, bullying the weakest kids on the playground. Though he would never reproach Marcel from banishing the werewolves from the Quarter or stopping the witches from doing magic, everything that had allowed him to get to that point he had stolen from him, and that fact was like wood to a fireplace, it kept his immortal rage burning.

Perch on the balcony above the party, Klaus and Marcel stood like Kings in a court of horrors, watching their nobles feast on the buffet. Though Klaus was too old to enjoy such an obvious and basic vampire party, he had to give Marcel a nod of approval every once in a while, to keep things civil. He was bored out of his mind and had run out of things to talk about with his ‘friend’. Fortunately, Marcel had a surprise for his sire.

“I’m hosting a party.”

“Yes, you are,” the hybrid nodded, making the vampire laugh.

“No. I mean, I’m planning a party, in two days. It’s a charity dinner for some… I don’t know, charitable organization for the city.”

“I didn’t take you for the charitable type,” Klaus teased.

“Well, I got a reputation to uphold,” he replied with an amused smile. “It’s mostly an excuse to see Camille again, though.”

“Who? Ah, the bartender.”

“Yeah, the bartender,” he chuckled. “It’s a fancy dinner, just your brother’s type of things.”

“You’re inviting Elijah?” Klaus raised an eyebrow, surprised Marcel would want to be anywhere near his brother.

“Right, and his witch girlfriend, you know, what’s her name…”

“Mackenzie.”

“That’s right. She’s a funny little thing,” he said as he smiled at his sire accusatorily. “She’s not afraid of you.”

“Ah, she’s been through a lot.”

“Do you mean you?”

They laughed.

“I admit, I may have been less than cordial to her… more than once.”

“It’s a miracle Elijah lets you go anywhere near her.”

Klaus knew what Marcel was doing, where this was going. He had been working at it slowly, but not as subtly, for a while now. Marcel wanted Elijah gone, out of his city, no matter how, no matter what it took. He figured Klaus was his best shot, and usually he would have been correct, but not now, not anymore. If anything happened to Elijah, Mackenzie would destroy the whole city, hell, the entire state. No, Klaus had one goal, and he wasn’t going to let Marcel distract him from it.

“It’s different with her. If I kill her, he’ll stop at nothing to take me down, and I’ve tired of our little wars. The last one lasted a century and almost killed me.”

“Ah, let him have his fun. She’s mortal, they’re fleeting little things.”

Klaus chuckled, though not because he found the obvious threat funny, but the mere thought of Marcel going after Mackenzie made him want to laugh. He’d pay to see it, if only it wouldn’t result in Marcel’s certain death.

“Not this one. This one is here to stay.”

Marcel frowned and looked at the hybrid with curiosity. “You actually mean that.”

“She’s a Mikaelson, Marcel,” he nodded as he put his hand on the King’s shoulder. “You know what happens when you go after a Mikaelson.”

Marcel laughed. “Hey, I’m just talking, no harm meant, no harm meant.”

“She’d kill you before you even had a chance to see it coming.”

“See, that’s my problem,” Marcel grimaced. “Witches aren’t allowed to do magic here, and I don’t think she’s understood that.”

“What? Your secret weapon’s been shining bright recently?”

Marcel laughed as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s the attitude, Klaus. Elijah… he doesn’t respect my authority here. And neither does she.”

“Then why invite them, then? They’re happy enough on their own. Trust me, they’re unbearable to be around right now. They’re so… in love,” he said, disgust visible all over his face, making Marcel laugh whole-heartedly.

“You were never one for sentiment.”

“Right then,” Klaus sighed. “I’ll let them know.”

“I appreciate that, brother.”

Marcel tapped him twice on the shoulder before he moved towards the middle of the balcony, where he’d be best seen from downstairs, to make his usual speech. The words never changed. “Have fun”, “don’t kill too many of them”, and last but not least:

“And no matter what you do, no matter how good she smells or how pretty she looks, leave the barefoot blonde alone!”

That last part they all said together like a chant, like it was a joke. But when Marcel explained the meaning to Klaus the first night, he learnt he wasn’t joking in the least. He had puzzled out all the tiny bits of information Marcel could give him, and the hybrid knew it was no joke indeed.

[mka1098]

I Ask For Your Hand In Marriage - A PJO Fanfic

A Percy Jackson Royal AU Fanfiction 

Description: Percy is a prince, Annabeth is a royal overseer and they both are idiots who don’t realize they are in love. 

Hear it read aloud here ! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LY0R0M8ZiE&t=17s 

Chapter One

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing…” 

In fact, Percy was not doing ‘nothing’. He was basically planking on a wooden stool; he had stolen it from the kitchens. “This  isn’t nothing.” Annabeth said with a pointed tone. Percy looked at her with big innocent seal eyes. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

 Technically, he wasn’t. He was just laying on the wooden stool, swimming in the air like a normal person. Because normal people did that right? Yeahh… they totally did. 

“Where on earth did you get that?” She asked, walking over to him and crossing her arms. Her eyes were on the stool and Percy smirked up at her.

 “Oh this old thing? It’s always been here; nice to see you taking note in my decorations.” He said sarcastically. 

Annabeth frowned. “Why is this in your room.” She said tiredly. She muttered, ``I'm so tired of this, under her breath. Percy ignored it.

 “Kitchens. I wanted to teach the kids how to swim but since they have to stay by their parents, it has to be in the air. And I’ve never swam in the air so I’m practicing.” He explained.

 The corner of Annabeth’s lips raised; she was holding back a smile. “You’re a dork.” She said affectionately. Percy practically flopped around the stool; his abs were hurting from trying to stay up.

 “I’m doing good.” Percy defended himself. Annabeth ruffled his hair, making it more messy than it already was. 

“You’re always trying too.” She said with a smile. “But get up, you have other duties to perform; those that pertain to more than just the children in the kitchens.” Annabeth dragged him up and off of the stool by the front of his sleep shirt. 

“Awww.” He whined but stood up straight, reveling in the visible cringe on Annabeth's face as he stood taller than her. 

“Get that smirk off your face and get dressed. We’re meeting with the King and Queen.” Annabeth said, picking up the stool to probably go put it back. 

Percy rolled his eyes. “Those are my parents. They’ve seen me as a naked baby. I don’t think they care about me in Pjs.” He said snarkily. Annabeth narrowed her grey eyes at him. 

“It’s good to get ready anyways.” She told him, pinching the fabric of his seas themed fleece PJ pants. 

Percy stuck his tongue out at her. “Just for you.” Percy said sassily, tearing off his shirt and shrugging on a ‘nicer’ sweatshirt. It was nicer because unlike the former, it had no holes in it. Annabeth scoffed and turned around to leave the room. 

“You don’t wanna be here when I change into jeans?” Percy called after her with a devilish laugh. 

”You wish, Jackson.” Annabeth threw behind her shoulder.

Percy chuckled to himself. Not only was Annabeth his best friend, but she was also his royal overseer; it was an uproar when they announced it. The past 3 kings had the same royal overseer so it had been a shock to everyone when a randam, non-noble teenage girl had been chosen by the crown prince to take that role. But truly, she was the best option. 

For one, Percy did not listen to anyone but Annabeth. There was no way even wise old Chiron could get him to follow the old traditions that he needed too. Annabeth was able to make Percy begrudgingly put on the formal suits and perform speeches. Not only that, she was responsible, smart and organized; all things a royal overseer needed to be. Percy was so happy to have her in his life. She was the best friend ever; she dealt with him and organized everything. And she was funny and caring and never let him get away with being an idiot. They had been friends for years, 12 to be exact. Annabeth knew him better than he knew himself. 

“That took far too long.” Annabeth deadpanned when Percy stepped out of his bedroom. He stuck his tongue out at her, as all adults do. 

“No big deal.” He said, throwing an arm around Annabeth's shoulders. She shoved it off with a frown. 

“You should still look your best and be on time. Nevermind the fact that they are your parents.” She chastised. 

Percy rolled his eyes but didn’t object or talk back. “Good morning!’ He chimed to the staff; they smiled widely and greeted him with optimistic remarks. Percy had always made it a goal to make all the staff feel welcome and seen. Maybe times in the past, they were regarded as tools and Percy resented that past. 

“I overheard your father has a huge proclamation for you.” One of the staff members said with a smirk.

 Percy tilted his head to the side? “Really? They just said they wanna talk to me.” He thought out loud. 

The staff member sent him a tense smile. “Hopefully you don’t mind his proclamation.” Percy’s eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. What? Why wouldn’t he like what his father had to say? At most, it would be oh add this class to your studies, retake this class, help the general with his plans, do more royal duties. He looked over to Annabeth who was scribbling in her journal; it held all her secrets, tasks and everything. He knew this because he had stolen it once and got judo flipped in return. 

“Do you know anything?” He asked curiously. She looked up to him. “No idea.” She said drily. 

Percy couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. Either way, he had no time to figure it out because Annabeth had pushed open the throne room doors. “Ah, you’re up.” His father said with mirth in his eyes. Percy rolled his eyes like an angsty teenager. 

“No, dad I’m sleepwalking.” He replied. His father turned to his mother. 

“He gets the sass from you.” Poseidon said. 

Sally laughed. “Don’t act like you didn't contribute.” She said in a sing-song voice. Poseidon ignored that. 

“My king and queen.” Annabeth said solemnly, bowing her head

. The entire family rolled their eyes; it was ridiculous that Annabeth still felt as if she needed to bow to them or say your highness. She had practically grown up running around their halls and spoke casually to Percy. Despite all their efforts, she always used royalty manners. Poseidon cleared his throat and looked at Percy.

 “Son.” He said curtly. “Father.” Percy replied with snark; Poseidon stifled a laugh. “You are 18 now. You are an adult-” The king started. Annabeth snorted halfway through muttering, I beg to differ, your highness. Snickering, he continued. “You are going to begin to take more pressing and complex royal duties when you are 25. Starting now as a legal adult, it is important you begin to take on roles for the public to see.” Percy nodded. His parents exchanged a look. “You must find a queen.”

Percy stumbled backwards… what? He needed to what? “Now?” Percy asked in an incredulous manner. He was met with serious nods and stares. “Why now?” He practically whined. 

Percy knew he was being a brat but… they telling him he needed to find the person he’d rule next to, have children with and spend the rest of his life with… now. At age 18! He couldn’t even figure out his favorite movie, much less his permanently future wife. 

“Perseus, you of all people know how difficult it is for power exchanges to occur. Especially for Princesses from outer and different kingdom. They are deliberate and must take time. Lot’s of time, as we must start now. You need a queen. Our subjects must not be led to believe you’re underqualified to be their king.” Poseidon said strictly. He was definitely thinking of the gossiping nobles. 

Percy sighed but nodded. “I get that.” He moped. His father nodded. “But why do I need to find a queen now? I’m not taking the throne for years, I don’t need to have an heir anytime soon.” He protested.

 This time, his mother spoke. “Percy, when you start managing all of your royal duties, you work in tandem with your future queen. It wouldn’t make sense to leave that space blank. A new king and queen won’t be able to handle an entire kingdom. You need to begin your interlocking duties in the next year, so that by the time you ascent; it’s as if you’ve been ruling for years. We can’t just thrust a new queen in the middle of that entire complicated and delicate situation. Your queen will be giving her input on most all of the pressing situations and you’ll have to work on covering each other's biases. You can’t do it all alone.” Sally said with a gentle smile. 

Still Percy frowned. 

“Can’t Annabeth take over the queen’s duties and input for the time being? I don’t want to rush a relationship. She already knows what to do. She knows me well and can cover the biases or my weak areas. The royal overseer already performs duties like this. We can do it until I find a queen.” Percy tried to convince his parents but they shook their heads. 

“No, Percy. That could cause a slew of drama. You’re not going to want that and nor will your future queen.” The king said. 

“She’s my best friend and she’s fit for the role!” Percy objected. 

This time, Annabeth told him to hush. “The future queen must never be a person to be deliberated over. She must be certain. Listen to what your father is saying, there was already an uproar when I became your overseer; I do not want to even imagine the outcome of me taking on queenly duties without taking that title in the future. And more so importantly than gossip… you must marry someone of Royal status. It would be beneficial for our kingdom to have another truce. No royal-blooded Princess would want a husband who has his ‘best friend’ take over her royal duties. Must less, a commoner.” Annabeth said firmly. 

The king nodded in agreement. Percy sighed in defeat. “I don’t like this. But fine. What am I even supposed to do though?” He asked. 

Sally smiled at Annabeth. “Annabeth has lovingly and painstakingly created a plan to help you.” Percy snorted. When did she not have a plan? “She has a list of Princesses from good reputation kingdoms and has invited them to spend a day with you.” Percy sputtered. 

“Whoa so this is like speed dating or something?” 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot. It’s not speed dating; who do you think I am? Each week, you will meet with one Princess for a day. If you find that you’re extremely compatible with one of them; she will be your queen.” Annabeth explained, shoving her blonde curls behind her ears.

 Percy made a silent O with his mouth. Seaweed brain, she mouthed at him. “I’d say even though it’s rather untraditional; it is a plan that has a high probability of working.” His father said.

 Annabeth nodded. “It was created with Percy in mind, your highness. Which I will admit made it difficult.” She said with a smirk. Percy squawked offendedly. “And we thank you for the plan, Annabeth dear.” His mother said kindly.

 “No one else knows him well enough.” The blonde smiled politely and bowed her head. “That is all. You two can brief on it if you’d like.” Poseidon said. Percy left after telling his parents `I love you` and kissing his mother’s cheek; Annabeth bowed, said `thank you, my king and queen` and followed Percy out the door.

That’s Chapter One! I just had an idea and ran with it. 

[tateannawrestling]

German Hawtie

Me and Aliyah are best friends with Liv Morgan, and have been ever since she was in NXT. But since she got singed to the main roster a couple years back, us three made a group chat to keep in contact. Even though me and Aliyah seen each other every week, it was still fun to text in our group chat rather than actually go talk in person. Now, this group chat was always crazy. We mostly talk about boys which is the main reason why our group chat is crazy, either two of us are making fun of a crush that the other girl has or all of us are fighting over who a certain guy would date if he had to pick between us three, etc. But of course, since we are best friends, our chat had its sentimental moments as well. Such as, Liv coming out to us, or Aliyah venting to us about a break up, or me, crying to them because McDonalds got my order wrong. Either way, we all love each other and this group chat was a crucial part of our friendship.

-

Thursday, March 11th, 2021

"Hot Girlz"

Y/N: Liv did u see nxt last night?

Liv: I did, y?

Ali: yeah, why?

Y/N: Cuz I was wondering if you seen that German Hawtie Marcel Barthel, in his promo

Ali: lmao

Liv: u like him???

Y/N: YES HE IS SO FINEEE

Liv: talk to him then

Ali: yeah i will help u

Y/N: Nah he prob has a gf

Liv: what if he doesn't?

Y/N: I'm going to assume he does so I don't have to talk to him

Ali: if u won't talk to him I will

Y/N: NOOOO ALIYAH!! DON'T U DARE

-

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Tonight was NXT and last Thursday in the group chat Aliyah said she was going to tell Marcel. Granite, she was probably kidding.

I was pacing around backstage, deciding whether or not I should tell Marcel how I feel about him. I had my locker room door slightly opened. "Should I tell him? What if he has a girlfriend, what if I'm not pretty enough" I aloud to myself while still pacing "God, Marcel, why do you have to be so damn hot?" I question as I plop myself on to the sofa. "I could say the same thing to you, love" I hear a cute German accent say

Marcel's POV:

I was walking with Fabian and Alexander, I notice that we pass by Y/N's locker room. "Hey, uh, guys, I will catch up with you later." I say to them as I go to Y/N's locker room. I have always liked her, she is so gorgeous, I just don't know how to tell her. Any opportunity I get to tell her I take, but end up backing out last minute because I am too afraid she will reject me. As I made my way to her locker room I stand outside of her slightly opened door. Looking in, I see her pacing around mumbling obscenities to herself. I couldn't make out exactly what she was saying but I did hear her call herself “not pretty”, which, by the way, was far from the truth. But the next sentence that came out of her mouth, I heard plain as day, "God, Marcel, why do you have to be so damn hot?" Then that's when it hit me, she thinks that she is not pretty enough to be with me? Wow, I have got to make my move right now. 

"I could say the same thing to you, love" I say as I walk into her locker room shutting the door behind me. "Uhm, Mar-Marcel, how long have you been standing there?" She asks. She is so cute when she's nervous "Long enough to know that you think I'm hot" I smirk "Shut up" She replies as I just laugh and sit on the sofa next to her "I also heard you say that you don't think you are pretty enough to be with me, that's untrue. I think you are the most beautiful person ever, and I would love it if I could take you out sometime?" I ask hoping for a yes "Oh- Uhm, yeah sure! S-Sorry this is a lot to process" She laughs. Oh my, her laugh is so cute "It's okay, liebe" I say leaning in to kiss her, she kisses back. It was better than I imagined.

Y/N's POV:

Marcel walked toward the sofa, what the hell was he doing? He sits down next to me, "I also heard you say that you don't think you are pretty enough to be with me, that's s untrue. I think you are the most beautiful person ever, and I would love it if I could take you out sometime?" Marcel asks, making me hella shocked. I stutter and accept. But then... he kisses me. I did not see that coming. 

We pull away, "Holy shit" I curse causing him to laugh and say, "Language, love" "Sorry" I apologize "It's okay, I thinks it hot" He says smirking, knowing exactly what he's doing. We kiss again, well we start making out, after we run out of breath, we pull away, "You kiss like a god" I say "Oh, you haven't seen nothing yet, Darling" Marcel replies creating butterflies in my stomach. Just thinking what he means by that turns me on so much.

source: wattpad - tateannawrestling