#another friend and me have a version of this with a few ocs but i also have this which is AWFUL for everyone involved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

takeyrregrets · 2 months ago

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Another idea!! Okay so, delinquent reader x a childhood friend who made a mistake.

Oc and reader were completely inseparable since childhood after their parents introduced them to each other. Oc was an energetic kid, always begging his parents to meet up with reader, while the reader was more shy. But him being shy didn't mean that he hated the company, actually he absolutely adored the other, looking up to him in a way. Everytime they would play oc would effortlessly make temporary friends on the playground, and everytime his playground friends tried pushing Reader away since he was quiet oc wouldn't allow it.

Until they started highschool, oc made friends with the “popular” kids. He started hanging out with them more and more, slowly pulling away from reader. Until one day he got an ultimatum, either to stay with them or reader, and he chose the popular kids. What oc didn't know was that his new friend group would start bullying reader, at first he's shocked, trying to stop it, but after a while.. he just starts silently watching.

This causes the reader to disappear from school for months after it got severe (bullying was for a few years). But when he came back, he was different. Snappy, temperamental, a delinquent. Oc seeing this realizes how much he's changed, that he's no longer the cute shy kid that looked up to him. Oc starts trying to fix things, but you choose if it works in this fic or not.

I'm so fucking sorry this is so goddamn long 💀

-💀

𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀? 𝗖𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀? 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘅 𝗗𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗠𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 just realized I never made a title for this oh my god anyways heres the updated version

You weren’t supposed to come back.

That was the unspoken rule, wasn't it? Once you vanished—after the bruises, after the rumors, after the final time someone shoved you down the stairs and Elian just stood there—you were gone.

No one expected to see you again. Not the teachers. Not the kids. Certainly not him.

But here you are, pushing open the gates of West Ridge High like you own the damn place, teeth bared in a half-lazy, half-daring grin. It’s not real, of course. Just something you wear now, like your beat-up leather jacket and scuffed boots and that permanent slouch in your shoulders that says just screams problem starter.

And yeah, maybe you do start problems

Your hair’s longer. You’ve got a lip ring and bandages across your knuckles from a fight you didn’t win, but refused to lose. The office staff barely recognize you when you sign in.

Elian definitely doesn’t.

You catch him staring during first period.

It’s almost funny, the way he freezes when you walk in. Like a ghost just entered the room instead of a guy who used to braid clover chains for him during recess.

You take the seat furthest from him, ignoring the way he keeps glancing over like you might evaporate if he blinks too long.

Too late for that.

You’ve already disappeared once.

By third day back, everyone knows not to mess with you.

Not because you’re loud. Not because you fight much, though you have made a name for yourself in backlot scraps behind the gym. It’s just the way you are now—quiet like thunder in the distance. People hear it, and they don’t wait to see the storm.

Except him.

He corners you behind the vending machines after school, his hands stuffed deep in his hoodie pockets like he’s scared you’ll break his fingers if he tries to reach out.

"Can I—" he starts, but you already know.

You don’t look at him. "No."

He flinches. "You don’t even know what I was gonna say."

"Doesn’t matter."

There’s a pause. You hear him shift, like he’s about to walk away. But then—

"I didn’t choose them over you. I—" He exhales, and it’s shaky. “I thought I had time. I thought you’d always be there.”

That stops you. Just a beat.

You turn, finally meeting his eyes. They're the same ones that used to sparkle when you brought him wildflowers. Now they're red-rimmed. Guilty.

"You watched me get torn apart," you say, voice low. “For years. Not once. Not twice. Every damn day.”

He swallows hard. “I was scared.”

"So was I."

Another pause.

He looks at you then—not like you're some broken thing he wants to fix, but like someone he misses. Truly, achingly. Like he’s been walking around half-alive and only just found the part of him he lost.

“I never stopped—” His voice cracks. “You were my best friend. My only real one. I just... I got so caught up trying to be liked. Trying to be safe.”

You’re quiet for a long time.

Then, without thinking, you say it.

“You could’ve been safe with me.”

After that, he doesn’t push.

Not for a while.

But you notice things.

An extra juice box left beside your locker. A sticky note on your desk that says “math test Friday” in familiar chicken-scratch. Someone tripping in the hallway only for Elian to be at your side a second later, ready to fight whoever touched you—until he realizes you handled it first.

You don’t say anything.

But when you sit down at lunch one day and find him already at your usual spot, tray untouched, hands clenched in his lap, waiting—you pause.

He looks up.

Just once, he smiles. A little lopsided. A little broken.

“Hey.”

You sit across from him.

You don’t say anything.

But your leg brushes his under the table, and this time, you don’t pull away.

Healing isn't clean.

You still snap at him some days. Still storm out when something hits too close. You still hate the way he flinches sometimes—like he's expecting the worst from you.

And he still cries sometimes. Not in front of you, but you hear it in the way he says “I’m sorry” like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

But he shows up.

He listens.

He doesn’t ask for forgiveness. He just stays.

And maybe… maybe that’s enough for now.

Because there’s a quiet night—late spring, air smelling like rain—where you’re sitting on the hood of his mom’s car, both of you staring at the stars like you used to, and he whispers—

“Are we still friends?”

You don’t answer right away.

But you lean your head on his shoulder.

And it’s the first time he doesn’t cry when you touch him.

#shrill..works #oc x male reader #male reader #x reader #x male reader #reader insert #male x male #oc x reader #mlm #male reader insert #male!reader #male reader imagine #male! reader #x male!reader

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rick-on-the-run · 28 days ago

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Hiding from Grandfather.

I was taking a nap one day, and my dog came up and slapped me in the face with his paw for attention. Then suddenly, a little scene popped into my head. So I drew it. I've never really drawn an environment like this, and I suck at lighting currently, but oh well... The books were fun to draw..

What happened next...

Lots of ramblings below...

⚠️Warning⚠️ Extreme "wall of text" jumpscare inbound! Skip if not in the mood for a long(ish) read.

So now I have a new oc... Anyway...

This is Rick K-355 Or "Library". After going through a hectic point in his life: traveling through space, fighting in wars, and whatnot. He came back to his Beth a bit earlier than probably most Ricks, somewhere right before Morty came along.

When he lived there originally with his wife and daughter, he attempted to make money by employing himself as a sort of handyman: using his gadgets and such to fix and assist with things around people's homes. However, really only neighbors or friends utilized his services. Which meant his wife was the main breadwinner of the house. It did cause some tension, as money was tight, and science projects in their garage or being a barely successful handyman wasn't helping pay the bills. And for a time, he picked up a small job at the library. As being around books made having a job more tolerable, just as having a job where he can build and use his inventions. He was content; however, he often longed for more in his life. Though, despite this want for more than what he had, he was still grateful, and loved his small family dearly.

At some point, another Rick (not Prime) came to his home in an attempt to capture him for a reason which was never made clear, and it resulted in a fight. Library managed to fend off and kill the other Rick; however, not before Diane was badly injured in the attack. She later succumbs to her wounds, leaving Rick in a state of shock and confusion. Before then, he had no knowledge of other realities, let alone other versions of himself.

He becomes a bit distant from Beth, pouring his time into figuring out the gun which he saw the other Rick us to appear in his room. He knew it was portal travel, as he, like many other Ricks -unbeknownst to each before the first successful portal hop- had been trying to figure out. He wasn't sure where he was going to go with this gun, but he became so disgustingly obsessed with it in his grief, that it drove him into a crazed state. Perhaps he was trying to ignore his loss. Though, this shook the relationship with his daughter.

And in an action he will forever regret, he managed to get the gun working, and stepped through a portal without much thought. It happened to be on its last jump, so even if he wanted to come home right away, he couldn't... This sobered him up some, and he panicked, suddenly realizing that he had absolutely no idea how to get home.

Hectic space adventures ensue..

He went through questioning if anything mattered, given the infinity of possibilities and universes... Seeing the same wars fought for the same ridiculous reasons as they were being waged over in many realities following the same doomed paths. And he fought in a few. He even killed other versions of himself, not only to steal more portal fluid, but to see what he'd do if he were dying, or how other versions of himself reacted to being attacked by another Rick out of the blue. What did he himself look like that night.? Because to him, they didn't really exist.. They just were echoes of people he could've been, drifting through their lives in an infinite web of probabilities... And in time, he began to question if he also even existed at all...

And yet, in all this time he spent being lost, he had neglected the one thing that was still real to him: his daughter. Whom he left behind, and had long since gained the ability to get back to her. Maybe he was afraid their relationship was too damaged...

As his rambunctious time in space began to wind down, and before he finally made the jump home, he spent some time at Alcázar (Citadel-430) working in the archives. As he was growing tired of space shenanigans, and missed the complex simplicity of knowledge held between pages. Here is where he gained the moniker "Library". Even though he was an Archivist and not necessarily working in a library at the time...

When he finally does go back home, he never leaves for the infinity of possibilities again. His Beth sort of helped him ground himself in is own existence. Helped him realize that he was real, and if nothing else mattered, then at least this one thing does.

Back home, he is a librarian at the same local library he worked at while younger. Even living in the building in an upstairs home above the library. Often looking after his grandchildren when Beth and Jerry can't. Both he and Beth are trying to repair their relationship, though, Beth's feelings toward what happened are still a lot stronger and more sore, making it harder for her to forgive her father.

He is a kinder Rick, and cares about his grand babies. (Because I just need to see a Rick who actively cares for, and who isn't cruel to Morty and Summer...I'm starved for it...) And when they come to live with him on occasion, he uses the opportunity to tutor them in things they might not learn, or know yet in school. So they are somewhat ahead of the game.

He is more concerned for his grandson, however. As Morty struggles to comprehend information and retain it, often being exceeded by his sister. His speech impediment is more severe, and so he opts not to talk most of the time. And he just sort of goes along with his sister's antics. Though, he focuses easier on things that interest him, like animals and taking apart and putting together RC cars. And as for Summer, she is more outspoken than her brother, and very easily can become the lead in any group of peers, knowing how to sway the crowd. Library isn't concerned for her in any schooling environment. Rather, he is more concerned about the trouble her brain may get her in one day...

Anyway... that's it... It's midnight and I'm practically falling asleep... Thank you for reading if you did... Sorry it was so long...

#K-355 #rick and morty oc #rick oc #rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #summer smith #rambles #ramblings #oc rant #Library Rick

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thedarkzyxabyss · 4 months ago

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Also here they are! All versions of 02/Radio/TV that I've made so far! ^^

This was originally a small guide for my friend to draw all of them, showing their markings and differences, but I might as well post them here too.

Maybe I can post their lore and stories here soon? :3 We'll see!

Anyways, here are their individual references!

the original (at least the very first one)

an upgraded 02! (more on what that means another time)

was working with a certain virus previously, but now is on his own

former amnesiac, he knows what he's supposed to be doing. frankly, doesn't do it out of spite <3

Fallacy

an upgraded 02 variant, technical darker variant of TV

travels frequently between the UTMV multiverse and an unknown one...

very closed off (unless you're a certain someone of his)

he's totally friendly guys (i say, like a liar)

seems to remember some things...

Scrap

an 02 variant that slipped between the spaces of AUs, ending up in Salvage (created by @galacii )

was mainly created for this setting! A fun little what-if to explore

has yet to be developed further (hopefully soon :3)

not upgraded nor even powered on! (Low-Battery Mode)

Radio

an 02 variant

works with Shattered Dream (by @galacii )

has a piece of Shattered's SOUL inside of him :3

currently trying his best to help Shattered with his goals

still an amnesiac, but doesn't mind not knowing any of his past for now!

(You can find out more about him here: @shit-hell-no-radio )

Vendetta

a Radio variant ? (02 variant) ???

a collection of mismatch parts from other 02 variants stitched together to make something new...

originally was a Radio from a previous time...

doesn't know who he is anymore

my favorite 02 variant :3 (sorry Radio idsgjsdogjsighsoi)

hunts other 02s for parts (and a certain someone as well...)

Renaissance

A Vendetta variant (these just keep getting more and more complex :skull:)

basically the result of a different route Vendetta could have gone down- a non-canon off shoot of his story :3

Ren is made up of a few different 02s than Vendetta

funkier, more messed-up version of Vendetta (yikes)

######

a 02 variant that's... not really an 02 anymore

a ghost possessing an 02 to use as its vessel

currently looking for work

basically me repurposing an older OC that needed a body :3

more to come about him maybe later..??

sooo yeah! Yay for 02 variants!

#darkzyx #darkzyx oc #darkzyx lore #oc tv #utmv oc #oc radio #oc fallacy #oc vendetta #oc renaissance #oc scrap

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rizzanon · 4 months ago

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Heyy how are you?

helloo!! using this ask to answer everyone who’s been asking for my wellbeing these past two weeks! i’ve been doing alright!!

ramadan this year was just a little more tiring that usual and i didn’t really have the motivation to go and answer my inbox these past few weeks so that would explain my inactivity lol 😅🥲 (so sorry for those who sent in asks 😭)

but that doesn’t mean i haven’t been thinking about undoing fate and batfam feb (if we can call it that still 💀 it’s almost april oh my days)

that being said, i officially won’t be back until april at best, it’s exam season again and i totally flopped my H2 chem paper (fucking hate organic chem so much)

i’ve already drafted all of the works i planned to post during batfam feb, but some are still not finished yet—i’m planning to multi drop them when i’m freed from the shackles of exams 😭😓

and undoing fate chapter 8 and 9 (yes 9 ��‍↕️) will be dropping sometime in april (mid april latest)

so stay tuned!

that being said, incase you guys want to know what i’ve been doing (other than racking my brains for exams 💀), just click below the cut.

was super hyped for invincible season 3 and i loved every bit of it (rexsplode you will be missed dearly—it should have been immortal 💀) and i absolutely loved marks black and blue suit (we gotta love our graysons and their redheads 🥰🤗)

and because i kinda got back into my invincible hyperfixation, i can’t help but think of regressor! sister grayson—you’re a year younger than mark here(but technically i wouldn’t call this version a regressor, just someone who regressed once and used it to her full advantage) and have been exploiting my sideblog to test it out a bit… (these are privated lol)

got the motivation when i rewatched season two and remembered angstrom mentioning how in quite a few dimensions, debbie joined nolan and mark in their conquering, so take it that in her first life, she came from such a dimension, but when she regressed, she found herself in the current dimension that we know of… somewhat.

i completely understand if yall think this is probably more of an oc than a x reader type but yes this was kind of self-indulgent and still a wip lol

that being said, i also made some other platonic aus—if there is a batsis au, there must be a supersis au too! 🤭

probably won’t be a series, just some fluff works surrounding this au lol

and i’ve been delving into the actual comics for arrowfam and green lantern corp as well so i can’t help but imagine…

of course once again, this might be very self-indulgent and probably more of an oc than x reader, but i can’t get this idea out of my head until i write it all out 😓🫣 (incase you can’t tell all these ss are just snippets and i’ve written a lot more in my sideblog posts lol)

there’s still that one bruce wayne x childhood friend! reader slow burn fic that i have in my drafts that’s 90% done as well as another work i’m working on… so yes, i’ll most definitely be spoiling you guys in april 🤗🤫

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 2.5K FOLLOWERS WHATT that’s insane 😭🫶🫶

i think that’s mainly it 😅

i also got addicted to dc dark legions 😓💀

still learning the meta behind these but i didn’t expect myself to fall in so deep 😭

red hood is still one of my best characters (he should have been red but thank god he’s yellow, because he’s been carrying my team, along with mera lol)

hate the fact that my beloved nightwing is so hard to get though 😭 so yup, that’s about it! let me know what yall think about the few teasers i dropped lol)

#rizzanon #rizzanon updates #💌

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mendessi · 5 months ago

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things i say when you sleep | chapter three

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc word count: 3.3k summary: Ania crosses the Parapet into the Riders Quadrant, and finally meets with the marked children of those who got her parents and brother killed. Bodhi Durran is quick to remind her that she's marked too. tags: slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, mentions of death, she falls first he falls harder, majority canon compliant, some canon deviance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending, additional tags to be added AO3 masterlist

one | two | three | four | ...

I force myself to keep a straight face. I cannot lose control on this mat. If I've begun to master anything these past couple of months, it was controlling my anger.

I look over at Xaden who stands on the edge of the mat and catch his lips curve. They're doing this on purpose. They want a reaction out of me. Bodhi challenged me. I might have a chance at winning if I play my cards right. Maybe I should feel grateful that it's not his older cousin stepping onto the mat.

"XO Durran," I address him. I swallow at the sight of the sleeves of his black fitted shirt straining around his muscles. How I miss the days when I had height over him.

"Ani," He smirks. "Shall we?"

From the corner of my eyes, I can see the other cadets straightening up in their seats, even more filling the empty spaces around the mat. We are about to be an exhibition and there's a version of this where I'm forced to yield. I remember watching him, Xaden and Beckett take turns sparring with each other. Throw Garrick into the equations during the summer and it was a sight. My awakening if you will. Then, I found them entertaining. I didn't track their patterns, I had no reason to. Now, this was a direct threat to me.

"Is this because I don't want to join your secret society?" I step my right foot backward and raise my hands, just like always.

"I just think your ego is getting too big," He says taking his stance. "Someone has to put you in your place."

I take slow breaths, knowing that if I wait long enough he'll make the first move. I'm correct.

He throws a few punches and I slip them. My focus is heightened on the mat with him, I can't think of anything else. I know our respective squads are cheering us on and I'm appreciative that my squad likes me enough to do so, but I can't hear it right now. I shut it out.

I think he's going to throw the same punch but he shifts his hips at the last minute, throwing his other fist. It connects with my jaw and I stumble backward.

"Did you have that written in your little journal?" He asks and I clench my jaw.

"Fuck you," I say through gritted teeth.

I advance on him slipping under his arm when he moves to grab me and slam my fist into his ribs. He grunts in response, turning quickly throwing a jab that connects with my nose. The gush of blood is instant and I feel the rage building in the pit of my stomach. Don't lose control.

Control is all I have and I'm already teetering on cracking. Why am I so quick to anger when it comes to him?

I spit the crimson-colored metallic taste from my mouth but don't move to stop the bleeding. My eyes meet his and his brows are furrowed with concentration waiting for my next move. We go in circles for a moment but I advance once more throwing each of my elbows to which he deflects each of them. When I'm positive he thinks I'm gonna throw another elbow, I throw fists instead. A scream of frustration rips through my throat as I land three punches, two to his right cheek and one to his jaw.

I get my hands on his arm while I'm close and tug it so his bicep is flush with my chest and swing my right foot behind his with every ounce of force I can muster and sweep his leg out from under him. He lands on his back but I'm not done. I'm doing everything I can to keep my focus on him while simultaneously trying to keep hold of my emotions. He twists his legs and wraps them around mine knocking both of my feet from under me. I land on my chest with a loud thud, the air immediately leaving my lungs. When I open my eyes, my vision is slightly out of focus and I realize that I must've hit my head in my fall. I roll to my side much slower than I'd like to, still trying to regain my breath when he grabs my arm, twisting it behind my back and shoving his knee into my back. If I had any air in my lungs I would cry out at the sheer weight of him pressed into my spine right where my lungs expand.

He leans down into my ear and my vision blurs. I see Ridoc on his knees at the edge of the mat, screaming something at me but he sounds muffled. I'm about to pass out because I can't fucking breathe.

"You're not invincible," Bodhi says, his voice fading in and out. "You're getting too comfortable thinking that you'll win every match. You may be second in your year, but you're nothing compared to what's outside the wards."

My fingers are numb at this point as he twists my arm further back. I'm almost convinced he'll break it just because he can. I want to fight back, scream in his face and dare I say it, let the fury consume me just so I can win this, but my eyes are starting to flutter shut despite how much I'm fighting to keep them open. I think I'm attempting to struggle but if I twist one wrong way my arm could break.

"This is the last time I'm telling you nicely." He uses my own words against me. "You will train with me or Xaden until we deem fit or your anger issues will get you killed." It's so quiet I know it's only meant for me but with the way my ears are starting to ring I'm not sure how loud he said it.

"She yields!" I don't know who says it but Bodhi drops my arm and stands over me.

I can barely see the figure of him walk off the mat as my squadmates fill in the space around me and I finally give in to the darkness.

When I wake up I'm extra grateful for the air that expands in my lungs. I'm still lying on the mat, Ridoc knelt over me with a cool towel pressed to my head. Violet, Rhiannon, and Dain also knelt beside me. Gods, this might be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me.

"She's back," Dain says with a breath of relief.

"Back up," I shove my hand into Ridoc's chest and sit up so quickly my head spins. I'm still dizzy from the lack of oxygen. I hate the attention I have on me right now. Everyone surrounding the mat is watching and that's worse than the ache in my spine where Bodhi's knee just was.

My eyes land on every cadet around the mat until I find the one I want. Bodhi.

The second I find him, a smirk plastered to his face, I stand to my feet ignoring the way the world tilts for a moment before I charge at him. Rhiannon's arms wrap around my waist and it takes her and Dain both to pull me off the mat and out of the gym. I'm seeing red, so much so that my hands and knees shake with adrenaline.

"Handle her, will you?" He says when Ridoc steps out behind us. "I need eyes on Sorrengail."

"Relax," Rhiannon says putting her hands on my shoulders. "You had to lose at some point."

"Relax?" I scream. It's not that I lost. I couldn't care less that I lost, it's who I lost to. And it's how I lost. "That was deliberate, Rhiannon. He put me out that way on purpose."

"You don't know that, Ani," Ridoc says and I don't take a moment to feel bad for how I shout at him.

"Don't call me that." I raise my voice. I run my hands through my hair and pull away from Rhiannon.

Control it. Control it. Fight it.

My chest shakes with every breath and I replay Bodhi's words in my head. Your anger issues will get you killed.

I've struggled with it since my parents died and I had been so proud of myself for the way I'd kept my composure these past couple of months even with the incessant prying from Bodhi and Xaden. I hated the way he shattered it after mere minutes on the mat.

"I'm not sorry about this," Rhiannon says as she turns me around. She slaps me clean across the face, so hard that the sting lingers for minutes. I wouldn't be surprised if my face had red splotches in the shape of her hand. But in her defense, it works. I'm so shocked that the few moments of surprise help me ground as I sit against the wall. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, resting my head against the wall as I start to cool down.

"Thank you Rhi," I don't catch the nickname slip off my lips as I look up at her. She and Ridoc sit in front of me and I feel embarrassed for the way I lashed out.

"What happened?" She asks. "I don't disagree with you. The entire thing looked personal."

I use my hand to dab the now-drying blood off my nose. It doesn't feel broken thank Zihnal. "It was personal."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Rhiannon says and I nod. I want to tell them but as soon as I try to speak I just can't.

"You did good, Ania," Ridoc says. "Really. But once he had you in that position... your size difference. There was just no way."

I appreciate him trying to reassure me. Or maybe this is what he thinks I want to be comforted. Maybe he's unsure of how to comfort me. I would be too if they had lashed out at me like I had. It's sweet, regardless.

I lashed out. They just saw me at my worst since coming into the quadrant and they're still here with me. In the hallway with me instead of watching the rest of the matches.

"You don't have to do this alone," Ridoc says and his eyes are soft. He means it.

"I just need a second. Go back in," I say after a few more minutes of silence. They look at me for reassurance and I nod. They head back inside and I'm left in the corridor.

My legs are crossed and I'm picking at a loose strand from my bootlace when the door to the gym opens. I don't look up, expecting them to pass me without notice. I'm on defense when they sit next to me, leaning their back against the wall.

"You look like you've seen better days," Liam Mairi says. I don't think I've ever actually had a conversation with him. I do know that he's Marked just like me.

"Can I help you with something?" I cock my head to the side. I know I look like shit, I don't need to hear it.

"You lost it in there," He says. "You don't like us and that's fair. I just can't seem to figure out why."

I look down at my hands. "It's hard to explain."

It's not that I don't like them. I haven't necessarily tried to like them, but it's complicated. Beckett would be disappointed in me for the way I've separated myself from the other Marked ones, but I also believe that he would understand my reasoning. He might be upset that I've shut out his friends, but they were always his friends, not mine. I was just always dragged along because my parents made him. I know that they used to have love for me. I had love for them too. We were all we knew at one point, Garrick included.

This system wasn't made for us to survive. It was made to weed us out. They all lost their parents just like I did. They were all ripped from their homes just like I was. Even within my own squad, I avoided the people with the same relic I have and why? I continuously make excuses but they're not good anymore.

"I have time," Liam replies with a small smile. "Whatever you think is hard to explain, trust me, I can probably relate."

Looking up at him, I can't help but my eyes soften. His mother is the reason we were all safe during the executions. I wondered for a moment if our parents knew each other.

"Let's take a walk," He stands and offers me his hand. I hesitate before I take it and he pulls me up. I notice in his other hand he's holding a wet cloth. Did he have that the whole time? He offers it to me and I take it beginning to wipe the blood from my face. My shirt is ruined and I'll need a new one from central issue, and the way the dried blood begins to crack on my skin makes me grateful he brought it.

We head outside and our walk is silent for the first ten minutes. I breathe in the fresh air and it is so revitalizing after having my ribcage crushed by Bodhi. We walk aimlessly around campus and he chatters mindlessly about the way the school was built and how there are the tiniest things that remind him of Aretia. I know he's doing it to fill the silence and make me more comfortable around him. I hate to admit it's working. He's a nice guy and I don't know what brought him to me in the hallway but I'm happier to be outside with him than swimming in my thoughts inside.

"Who taught you to fight like that?" He asks finally after another brief silence.

"My brother I guess," I shrug. "He'd spar with his friends and I would join in sometimes. They never took it seriously when I was on the mat, but I learn quickly. I watch. I picked up things without even putting my hands on them. I learned from all of them I think."

"You and I should get on the mat sometime," He offers and I nod, "We're both just about undefeated. We need the challenge."

I'm not undefeated anymore.

"I've seen you spar, you're pretty skilled. Who taught you?" I ask.

"Riorson." He says and I want to remove myself from the conversation immediately. I should've known. "Don't, Ania."

"I don't want to have this conversation again, Liam," I sigh as I stop walking.

"Listen," His voice is soft as he speaks to me, "Stop pushing everyone who knows what you're going through away."

I cross my arms over my chest, but I'm not defensive. I just feel small because I know he's right.

"Do you think you're the only one with anger issues? Or the only one who has trouble controlling their emotions here? We all lost people, Ania. We are the only ones who share the trauma you do. It might do you some good to talk about it with the people who get it. The ones who won't judge you for the relic on your arm." He says and I hate that he's right.

"It's different with Bodhi and Xaden," I shake my head.

"I was fostered with him after the apostasy. He told me about you and your brother. It's hard for him... to care about people. He's not the best at showing it. Especially when you make it so hard. You're not exactly giving him and Bodhi grace." He looks down at me, his eyes never leaving my face, but I'm looking everywhere else. "They just want to protect you. And Bodhi, he's- never mind."

I put a hand over my eyes and take a deep breath, "They sent you, yeah?"

When I finally look at him he nods his head. "But I'm here because I want to be, not because I have to be."

The words make me lose my train of thought and I'm taken aback. Words I've repeated since I've gotten here.

"They're not giving me a choice," I say. "Tell them that I'll come when I'm ready. In the meantime, I'll train with you. That's it."

He obviously seems indebted to Xaden or something, or he wouldn't be out here on his accord. I must be giving them such a hard time that they've resorted to sending random first years to try and convince me that I should stop separating myself from the separatist kids.

I decide that I like Liam. He's genuinely kind and I can tell that he has a good soul. He was a much better approach than Quinn tearing off my sleeve on assessment day, dangling my dead brother's ring in front of my face, or pressing a knee to my back to the point of passing out.

Liam and I start running every morning. At night, we meet in the gym and he even allows Ridoc to come when he feels like tagging along. I enjoy his company and sometimes while we walk to breakfast he tells me a little bit about his life back in Aretia. I share fragments too, but I don't allow myself to open up further.

He doesn't press me about Bodhi or Xaden which I'm thankful for.

I'm waiting for him in the courtyard when I hear a familiar voice. I'm mid-yawn and cut it off with a groan.

"Cadet Mairi is busy this morning, so I'll be joining you."

"Where is Liam?" I ask Bodhi.

"Busy," He replies, amusement behind his eyes.

"Yeah, I got that. Doing what?" I sigh. "I don't want to run with you."

"Come on, it's just a run Ani," He laughs and I want to deck him in the face. "You don't even have to talk to me."

It's too early for this shit and I have way too much going on. I'm one practice session away from Presentation and I don't need any distractions.

"Fine." I huff.

We start our run just as the sun peeks over the horizon and I admire the peach-colored sky as we make our first lap. Any time I get even the slightest bit ahead of Bodhi, he speeds up so that he's in front of me. So I speed up to be in front of him. It's a cycle until we're both full-on sprinting around campus. I have to stop when my side cramps up. I put my hands over my head to open up my lungs as I breathe heavily.

"Is it," breath, "Your life goal," breath, "To piss me off?"

He laughs through his heavy breaths, looking up at me through the curls soaked from his sweat. He's breathing heavily but not nearly as much as I am. "No. Just pushing you to your full potential." He winks at me.

"Ew. Don't ever do that again." I sigh, dropping my hands to my knees breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

It's simply not enough so I allow myself to fall back onto the grass and continue to breathe, staring up at the multi-colored sky. "So pretty," I say breathlessly.

"Yeah," He nods, keeping his eyes on me. He sits next to me in the grass and nudges my side with his foot, "How is your Gauntlet training going?"

"Good. I'm the second fastest in my squad. Sawyer is first. I bruised my ribs the other day because I lost my footing but it's fine." I don't know why I'm telling him this. "Why?"

"Curious," He shrugs.

"Where was Liam really at?" I ask.

"I asked him if I could come instead," He replies truthfully. "We were friends Ani. I worried about you when we got split up."

Honest, he always was. I appreciate it still. It seems he finally found the right approach when it comes to me.

"I'm sorry about what happened on the mat," He finally says and I sit up to look at him, brushing the grass off my hands. "I didn't do it to be mean."

"Then why else would you do it?" It comes out softer than I wanted. I search his eyes for answers.

"Learning lesson," He replies. "You've had it too easy. I'm not saying you're not skilled but the other first years weren't enough of a challenge."

"I beat Quinn on assessment day," I retort.

Quinn and I still hadn't made amends and probably never would. She fought dirty and I broke her nose. I'm sure her disdain is equivalent to mine.

"Which leads me to my next point," He huffs out a laugh, "You won that because you let your anger win."

"I would've won regardless. And if my anger allows me to win then what's the problem?" I'm getting slightly defensive, but I can't help it around him.

He looks at me in a way that reminds me of when we were kids. It's not the first time it's happened. There had been times that we'd inevitably make eye contact and in an instant, I'm back in Aretia and Beckett is still alive. We grew up together. We were a family. And I'd done nothing but shut them out because of my own belief that they had done something unforgivable. They hadn't done anything at all. Beckett is the one who ran after them. I've made it extremely hard for them and the revelation sets a pit in my stomach.

Maybe I've been unfair.

"Your anger will consume you until you're nothing," Bodhi says and I know he's right, but it's gotten me this far. "You need to learn how to fight one battle. You've been fighting two. One with your opponent and one with your ability to control your emotions."

"I haven't been able to control it since they died," I say quietly.

"Let me help you."

Malek, help me.

"Fine."

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lalalychee-x · 3 months ago

Text

"1x1— I think I'm okay"

Angst! Rodrick Heffley x reader pt 1

"Hush your mouth, you talk too much..." romantic. + platonic

♡ Um! This whole series is SLIGHTLY a vent thing! But it's still an x reader! It's sfw unless labelled otherwise, but read the CW carefully!! I used the doawk fanfic "Dysfunctional Perspective" to help build around this story to give it some depth. Please check it out on r/loadeddiper on reddit! We have to establish some things first, though! So welcome to part 1 of "Think I'm okay!" CW: self harm (sh), weed/drug use, smoking, child-abuse, scars, healing scars, implied sexual assault (sa), obssessive disorders, classic crude teenage humour, skin-peeling metaphors?!, conflicted relationships, suicide attempts, suicide jokes, OCs or characters from Dysf. Perspective are included (even if they don't have the same plot-devices). masterlist of all parts: word count: 5223 song4this: 1x1" by Bring me the Horizon

This whole series is kinda to depict Rodrick closer to his cannon and less tiktok-ified version! It's also to convey two very different struggles of teenagers with similar coping mechanisms. Enjoy!!

♡ Rodrick and reader, School's fuck-up/Loser x School's Valedictorian/Popular Princess.

♡ Reader is depicted as popular, feminine, having a lot of friends.

♡ Rodrick is not depicted as popular but as well-known...but with few actual friends

♡ Reader is afab, female-dressing anyway, wearing skirts to fit a stereotype (it is a plot-relevant thing, I promise)

-------story starts here-------

It started as just another teacher’s errand.

You were used to them by now—the way your name always came up when someone needed a favour. Trusted. Organized. Sweet. Of course she’ll do it. She always does.

“Can you bring these up to Rodrick Heffley?” your teacher asked like it was nothing. Just a stack of notes and an excuse scribbled for his absence.

You paused. A little too long. “Sure,” you said, with that perfect little smile. The one you’d perfected to keep people from looking too closely. Too long.

You stared at the name on the top of the notes.

Rodrick Heffley.

The loser. The burnout. The guy who never showed up and when he did, never gave a shit. You didn’t run in the same circles—if anything, you existed in opposite galaxies. You were pink pens, honour roll, friends who planned everything two weeks in advance. He was torn denim, smelling like weed and rage, and scribbling band names on desks in black Sharpie. Everyone knew he was a mess.

And yet. You're sacrificing your hard-earned reputation, chipping away at it by rushing around and asking if anyone knew where the Heffley's even lived. Because fuck, what are other people going to think? You? Asking where his HOUSE is, running around like a neek with a stack of catch-up work in your hands. It was pissing you off.

Eventually, you did follow badly scribbled directions from a punk behind the school who knew his brother Greg, apparently from some disaster party that you didn't attend many months ago.

You sighed, walking up past the driveaway, up the pavement, knocking on the door. To your surprise, it creaked its way open under the force of your fist. It was open. You deadpan, cursing under your breath,

"Mrs, um, Mr. Heffley?" You think it's rude to intrude, god is this trespassing? Isn't it a crime—

You overthink for a bit longer when you realise it's been a bit too long... and there was no response. You peek in, the smell of Enigma Alexandra de Markoff perfume... do all white moms wear the same damn fragrance when they go out?

You scrunch your nose, then deduct that his parents were out. And you didn't know Rodrick very well but you were expecting some sort of sound from a noisy teenage boy... music or crude TV shows...

When passing him in the Music room in school, he was never quiet. He made his presence known, either by smashing drums like his life depended on it or yelling about some shit band no one else liked. But now? Silence. Eerie, suffocating silence.

You stood outside the cracked door, fingers curling tighter around the paper folder.

Then you heard it.

A noise—low, choked. Gurgled?

You spiralled up the stairs, pushing the front door to the Heffley house loosely shut and navigating across the upstairs hall.

And there he was.

Not sprawled on the couch with a smirk or blasting music so loud it’d rattle the drywall. Not throwing a dumb smirk at you like he always did when you passed him in the halls. No. He was slouched over the bathroom sink—in an unknown-band t-shirt, trembling, shoulders taut with some horrible tension. A single flickering bathroom light above him buzzed softly, and that was all you could hear for a moment, besides your own breath stuttering in her chest. The rest of the house had gone silent, like it, too, was holding its breath.

The sink was speckled red.

Bright, wet, and fresh.

His knuckles were clenched around the porcelain edge, his body swaying slightly like his legs weren’t even holding him up properly. Blood dripped from the underside of his arm, from angry, shallow cuts that hadn’t even stopped bleeding yet. His jeans hung loose on his hips, unbelted, and his hair was messy in a way that meant he hadn’t even tried to style it—it hung in his face, casting jagged shadows under his eyes.

He looked like a shadow. A ghost.

And when he blinked, slowly, blearily, then turned his head over his shoulder to look at you—you knew.

He wasn’t fully there. Was he high or something?

Eyes red-rimmed and distant. He looked at you like he couldn’t quite remember who you were. Like he’d forgotten how to process anything. A joint sat extinguished near the windowsill. The air was heavy with the stale tang of smoke and iron.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, and your voice cracked hard in the middle of it. It wasn’t pretty or elegant or composed like how you usually sounded at school—it was raw. It hurt to hear yourself sound like that. A way you knew all too well.

Rodrick blinked again. His brows furrowed, barely. He didn't even know you at first glance, only recognising you from your clothes, dolled out in glitter like a bad Regina George fashion trend.

“...What are you doing here?” His voice was gravel, slurred and slow, like he had to drag each syllable through his throat. Like his mouth couldn’t keep up with the rest of him. “You’re not supposed to—shit, go away.”

You didn't. Who would? Who could?

You chucked the manila folder of notes and handouts behind you, scattered across the carpet in the hall. Your heels clicked once—twice—as you stepped inside the bathroom and kicked them off so fast one hit the doorframe.

You would've whined usually, if anything happened to your precious shoes and outfit, but you couldn't care less. You were slipping on the tiled floor in your tights, hurriedly stepping in.

He was bleeding.

And you were the only one who gave a damn.

Your jacket soon followed, flung onto the counter before you even realized you were unzipping it. He looked alarmed, staggering back only to let more blood flow out of the cuts with the added pressure. Okay, maybe lunging at him out of panic wasn't the best approach, but what else could you expect a teenager to do?

“Rodrick,” you hissed, hands reaching for him, voice too high-pitched and breathless, “What the fuck—what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, eyes rolling back as he tried to push her away with one limp hand, but his knees buckled, and you barely caught him before he hit the tiles. “Don’t touch me.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, something hot and ugly building in your throat; was it tears? Or rage or irritance? “Just—fuck—shut up!” Your hands trembled as they caught his bleeding forearm, flipping it gently over to see the damage. Your fingers hovered just above his skin, scared to touch him but even more terrified not to. “You’re not fine, you asshole—you’re fucking bleeding.”

Rodrick didn’t answer, with a slurred expression that said "No shit."

He didn’t need to say it.

Not when his body leaned heavily against the sink, head tilted down, breaths coming in shallow, embarrassed gasps like he was suddenly realizing how exposed he was. His skin felt cold—clammy—and you hated that you knew exactly how that felt. You'd been here before. Not in a bathroom with someone else, but in your own room, your own quiet hell that was ironic because your whole room was pink and covered in pop-band posters. It was so different to this, but it made the white lines on your legs throb.

Until now.

Now you were here, looking.

He turned slightly, just enough for the fluorescent light to catch the raw red slashes across his forearm. Still fresh. Still wet. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown too wide. Either high—or so out of it he still hasn't registered who you are and what you're doing.

And he looked so fucking tired.

“Come here,” you whispered, voice suddenly soft and shaking as you tried to guide him down to the closed toilet seat. You pulled paper towels from the holder with frantic, jerky movements, biting your tongue to keep it steady. “Let me—just let me help, okay? Please. Don’t be stubborn.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t.

And that scared you more than anything.

Rodrick Heffley, king of eye rolls and snide remarks, didn’t argue.

You swiped around the cuts, hands gentle and practised, the air too quiet now, too heavy with everything left unsaid. You pressed the clean cloths firmly against the bleeding gashes, and your eyes burned.

“God, you’re such an idiot,” You mumbled under her breath, voice breaking again.

"What'd I do—"

His voice sounded slow, hurt and it pissed you off. "Are you stupid?! Do you think I'm stupid, Rodrick?! What do you think you've done?"

It came off harsher than it should have and you realised after you'd said it; you had horrible communication skills.

Your voice cracked against the walls and in his ears, louder than you expected it to be. It echoed over the tense, suffocating silence between you, and for a moment, everything stood still—except for the blood running in slow trails down his forearm.

Rodrick flinched. Visibly. Like your words physically slapped him across the face.

His expression shifted instantly. From distant and dazed to bitter and defensive.

“Oh, of course, you’re not stupid,” he scoffed, attempting to pull away, his free hand clenching around itself in a tight fist... like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Why would you be? You’re perfect. You’re everyone’s fucking favorite.”

You blinked, stunned by the venom in his tone, the way his voice twisted the word perfect like it burned his tongue to say it. Speechless. What do you even say to that?

He laughed under his breath, low and humourless, a sound that didn't belong on someone like him, a face like his... “Must be nice. Being the pretty little princess with straight A’s and clean wrists and people who actually give a shit.”

You look up at him from the floor, angry. So fucking angry but you can't speak.

"You—” he gestured vaguely at you with a slightly bloody finger, and it smeared against the underside of the sink with his clumsy motions—“don’t fucking get it. You’ve never had to lie about where you’ve been, why your hands are shaking, or why you can’t stop fucking up everything you touch!”

You stood up off the floor, finding the words but no less furious. “Don’t pull that edgy bullshit with me. What RIGHT did you have to say that? But I’m still alive. And so are you.”

His eyes widened, lips parting just slightly. Like maybe—for the first time—he wasn’t sure what to say. You both paused, looking at each other like some sort of stand-off. He wouldn't take you seriously, usually, especially in that outfit that looked like everything pink from Hillary Duff. But for some reason, whether it was the light or the fact he's had one too many blunts today, the pink dulled out and you looked furious.

He looked away, jaw clenched so tightly it trembled. His hands flexed at his sides. He was still bleeding.

And you couldn’t let him sit there and rot in it.

Not even as your knees hit the cold tile with a soft thud, your skirt bunching around your thighs and your palms stinging from the fall. You were right there, sitting on his bathroom floor, breath unsteady, heart in your throat.

The sink was still running, the water pink with diluted blood swirling down the drain. But it smelled stronger of bleach in that corner of the bathroom since you chucked whatever cleaning product you could find into it to get the blood off.

Rodrick just stared forward, jaw clenched like a vice, as you reached for his arm. You didn’t flinch, even though your hands were shaking. Even though your stomach flipped at the sight of the fresh gashes and the way his skin burned red around them.

“God,” you whispered, fumbling with the sleeve of your jacket to press against his arm. “You’re such a fucking idiot. Looks like someone ran a cheese grater across your arms.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here,” he snapped, voice rough and tight. But he did crack a slight smile at the comparison. But again—he didn’t move. Didn’t rip his arm away from your grip.

“You think I give a shit?” Your voice cracked, fingers pressing into the bandage as blood soaked through it. “You’re bleeding all over the place, Rodrick, and you’re still trying to act like none of this matters?”

He scoffed, looking down at you with tired, red eyes and an absolute shit-eating grin. “What, you think you’re saving me? Is that what this is? Poor little princess comes to fix the fuck-up? Do you think you'll get extra credit for this?”

“I’m not trying to save you, because I frankly don't fucking care,” you snapped, trembling as your hands worked, your breaths shaky and fast. “I’m trying to stop you from dying in a bathroom next to a blunt, in a stupid band tee because that's a stupid way to die!”

That shut him up.

For a second, the only sounds were the faucet still running, the wind rattling the windowpane as evening fell, and your ragged breathing.

You looked up at him, tears burning your waterline, fingers still pressing down on his arm as if keeping him here—on Earth—with you, even if the cuts weren't that bad. Your whole body was cold from the tiles, knees numb, lips chapped. But you didn’t care. Not when he looked like that. Pale and distant, like he’d already floated a few feet above his own body.

Rodrick’s mouth moved like he had something to say, but all that came out was a low, choked breath. Like the fight in him had cracked somewhere invisible, and all that anger was just a shield for the real thing underneath.

“No one can just ignore...that,” you whispered, referring to how you found him. “What was I meant to do?”

He let out a bitter laugh. He thought you were unusually nice. “You are annoying.”

You bit your lip to keep it from quivering. “I know.”

“I still hate you.”

“You’re allowed to.”

"Do you want me to?"

"I'd rather you did, actually."

The air did settle eventually with dry chuckles and crude insults—but barely.

It wasn’t calm, not really. Just a different kind of heavy. The kind that followed the storm of yelling and blood and shaking hands. The bathroom was still freezing. You could feel the tile digging into your knees, cold biting through the fabric of your skirt. Your jacket was ruined—streaked with red, crumpled on the floor beside you.

Rodrick joined you on the floor, sat against the side of the tub now, slouched low with his arm outstretched as you carefully swiped antiseptic over the cuts. It stung like hell, based on the way his jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead, chest rising and falling like he was still coming down from something—rage, maybe. Or a high. Or both.

You kept your hand steady, even though your fingers were still trembling.

“I need to let this dry before I bandage it,” you muttered, voice quieter now. Worn out. “Otherwise it’ll trap the bacteria and—”

“I’m not a dumbass,” Rodrick cut in flatly.

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes and standing back up. “I never said you were.”

He looked at you then—really looked. His eyes were bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in two days, dark circles bruised beneath them. His hair was a mess, falling into his face. Blood stained his hoodie sleeve and the hem of his jeans. But even now, like this, he looked defiant. Angry.

Or maybe just ashamed.

You turned away, hastily busying yourself with scrubbing the sink to avoid looking too long. Well, that's when you really clocked that there was a joint on the window sill.

"Well, there goes any idea of letting some fresh air into here." You mumble, setting the rag down with a wet slap against the sink.

"Huh?" Rodrick perked up.

"It's suffocating in here. But as soon as I open that window, the smell of weed gets out, the neighbours know then we're busted." You cock one hip, staring at him.

Rodrick scoffed, furrowing his eyebrows and putting the implication of your words together, "Why the hell do you care if I get busted for some indo?"

"Because I'm in here too, dumbass." You pause, looking away like you were hiding something, "...I wouldn't tell. Then you know... everyone would find out about all this."

Rodrick doesn't reply, silently noting your consideration for him.

"Don't get funny ideas." You felt the need to clarify as your cheeks burned. Then, without turning to him, you asked, “Is that why your eyes are red though, or is that just the part where you almost passed out in front of me?”

He gave a small, bitter laugh. “Does it matter?”

You turned your head to look at him again, brows drawn tight. “Yeah. Kinda does.”

Rodrick rolled his head back against the bathtub, letting it thud lightly as he sighed. “It was just a hit,” he muttered. “Helps me stop thinking about… stuff.”

You sighed.

Rodrick glanced sideways, catching the expression you were trying not to show—disappointment maybe, or maybe just that hollow, too-familiar look. He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t give me that face. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Your lips twitched. Not into a smile—god, no. But something colder. Something tired. “You think I don’t know what it’s like?”

He blinked at that. Like he hadn’t expected you to sound like that.

You wipe your hands on your skirt, half-heartedly since your fingers were already pruning up.

"The fuck does that mean? You know I'm stupid." Rodrick scoffs, staring at you in disbelief, like he's challenging you.

You froze.

The bandage in your hand suddenly felt like it weighed ten pounds. Like every heartbeat thudded directly in your palms. You stared at it for a second. Then let out a sharp sigh, your whole body tensing as you shoved the gauze roll into the sink cabinet with a dull thump.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered, rubbing your face with both hands.

Rodrick blinked at the sudden shift. “What?”

You didn’t answer at first. You just took a step back from him. Toward the mirror, where you could see your own reflection—frazzled, stained, still looking too perfect in all the wrong ways.

"Never planned on telling anyone."

Then Rodrick snorted lightly, like he couldn’t help himself. “Why the hell are you telling me, then?”

You let out a short breath—half-laugh, half-pain. “Because you’re bleeding in your bathroom sink, and I’m scared you’re gonna die.”

That shut him up. Again.

You didn’t look at him when you reached down to unzip your skirt. You just did it, stripping down to the sheer black tights clinging to your legs. And then, carefully—slowly—you hooked your fingers under the waistband and began to peel them down.

Rodrick sat up a little straighter. His eyes flicked down, brows furrowing in immediate confusion.

Because there they were.

Scars. Thin, faded, some pink, some darker. A few recent, irritated. And burns—scattered, angry little circles on your thighs. Like tiny ghosts of every time you'd lost focus, lost control. Like years of “accidents” that were never really accidents.

You stood there in your underwear, half-shivering, arms crossed over your stomach—but it wasn’t about modesty. It was about baring something else entirely.

"Um, yeah, it was like... punishment for myself, rather than trying to feel something."

He was flushed.

His mouth was slightly open, like he wasn’t sure how to react—still sitting there against the tub, shirt stained with blood, but now watching you like you weren’t someone he knew at all. Like you’d just peeled back your skin and shown him something holy and fragile and fucked up all at once.

You just stood there, exposed, breathing in the antiseptic air and waiting for something—anything.

And then he finally spoke, voice hoarse:

“…You did that while studying and with your friends and stuff?”

You blinked, surprised. “Yeah.”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, eyes flicking back to your legs, then up to your face. “That’s like… really fucked up.”

You genuinely let out a loud laugh. “You think?”

You sat back down on the cold tiled floor with a sigh, pressing your skirt into your lap like it would make this any less awkward. It didn’t. The silence felt like a thick fog between you. Still wearing your blouse and nothing else on your legs, your thighs out and marked, your expression deadpan.

Rodrick shifted where he sat. His knee bumped yours. You didn’t move.

The antiseptic on his arms was drying now. The sharp, sterile scent was losing its sting.

“You ever think about just… ending it?” he asked suddenly. Voice low. Almost thoughtful. Like he was wondering what it’d sound like out loud.

You didn’t even flinch. “You mean like… before or after I force myself to study derivatives for three hours a night?”

Rodrick snorted. “Okay, damn.”

You looked down at the bandages. “But yeah. All the time.”

He blinked. Then muttered, “Cool, cool, that’s normal, right? Like, ‘Oh, I got a D-minus on a quiz, guess I’ll swan dive into traffic.’”

You coughed a laugh that was definitely more like a sob. “Or when you walk into your room and see a curling wand and just start thinking about not curling your hair.”

“Shit, that's out of the box...” he muttered under his breath, eyes widening slightly. “You win.”

“I’m not competing with you for most suicidal, dumbass,” you muttered, pressing your forehead to your knees for a second.

He nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Yeah, well. If I die first, you owe me a funeral playlist.”

You lifted your head. Stared at him, completely straight-faced, referring to his clothing style. “You want your funeral to sound like a Hot Topic in 2007?”

“Hell yeah.”

“…What the hell.”

Another silence passed. You fiddled with a loose string on your skirt.

He looked down at his arms again. The blood was dry now. Scabs already crusting where the antiseptic had done its job. But he still looked hollowed out, like the inside of him was somewhere a hundred miles from here.

Then he looked back at you. At your exposed thighs, marked and silent.

And finally, a question, quiet: “Why the legs?”

You shrugged, voice dry. “Because people don’t usually check there. My skirt covers it and no one really stares there... you know? My mom doesn’t do laundry.”

He nodded slowly, like that made awful, perfect sense. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Most people wouldn't risk getting called a pervert.”

A few more seconds of quiet.

You shifted, groaning as your back hit the tub with a thud, "Fuck, this floor is cold."

"Well, sorry, I don't really hold mental breakdowns in style." He retorts back, not even looking at you as you scowl.

This back and forth went on for a while. The silence is deafening in that too-bright bathroom—white tiles, beige towels, that fake marble countertop that looks like every white-family suburban house ever. You’re sitting on the edge of the tub now, arms wrapped around yourself because you’re still kind of in shock, Rodrick perched on the toilet lid with his head down, bandages hugging his forearms, still damp with antiseptic.

You glance over at him, unsure what the next move is, and your mouth twitches.

“This is so fucking weird,” you say, breathless with disbelief.

Rodrick looks up, eyes red—not from crying, but from the leftover high, lids half-lowered. “You think?”

“I was supposed to be doing chem homework,” you mutter, then laugh. Really laugh. Head tilting back, the kind of breathless laugh that borders on manic. “Now I’m half-naked in your bathroom and I’ve seen your blood and your scars and you’ve seen mine. Like. What the fuck.”

Rodrick snorts. “Kinda romantic.”

You throw a balled-up, bloody tissue at him.

There’s a pause again, but it’s not the tense kind anymore. It’s… weirdly peaceful. Intimate. Almost like after a storm, when the world’s gone still.

You glance at the tub, then at him. “Y’know what would wake you up faster than that blunt?”

“What?”

“A cold bath. Like chuck a few ice cubes from the freezer in there.”

His head whips toward you like you just said the most evil shit imaginable. “Are you outta your damn mind?”

You’re already standing up. “Maybe. But you’re the one who said it was romantic in here.”

“I take it back.”

“You’re such a baby,” you smirk, turning the blue faucet handle hard until the water blasts out, freezing cold. “C’mon. We’ll scream together.”

He watches, dumbfounded, then lets out a breathy chuckle that he tries to hide. But he doesn't protest, swinging the door open and making his way to nip downstairs. To the freezer.

And somehow—somehow—the night ends with both of you screaming out your frustration into the echoey walls of his bathroom as ice water pours over your heads, both shivering and alive and messy and laughing at god knows what, because for once… you’re not alone in the weird, horrible way your brain works. You swear at some point you tried to see how many ice cubes you could stack on Rodrick's usually-hidden forehead like a deck of cards.

Soaked through and shaking, your skirt on this time, tights tossed across the room like shed skin. Because skin was a running theme apparently, cutting off layers of shame in the same way you both cut layers of skin.

Eventually, you both down as you sit opposite each other in the tub. Dripping. Shivering. You’re in your bra and skirt, which is plastered to your thighs and basically translucent now. Rodrick’s shirt is half off his shoulder, hair dripping into his eyes, lips slightly blue. You’re pretty sure this is how people catch pneumonia.

And then—then—it hits you.

You slap the side of the tub. “Shit!”

Rodrick flinches, wide-eyed. “What?!”

“The maths notes.”

“What maths notes?”

“The reason I came here, dumbass!” You throw your hands up, looking around like the notes might still be floating somewhere in the air. “I was supposed to give you the equations for Thursday’s test! You think Mr. Beaumont’s gonna believe this as an excuse?!”

Rodrick blinks, then breaks into a cackle. “Oh my god. You still care about school right now?”

You glare. “Yes? Some of us have reputations to uphold?”

“You just showed me your scars and helped me bandage my arms, then dragged me into a cold bath in your bra,” he wheezes. “I think ‘reputation’ left the building twenty minutes ago.”

You slap your wet hand over your face. “I’m going to die.”

“You’re already in my bathroom. Half naked. In my tub. You’re basically already in hell.”

You throw one of the thicker ice cubes that didn't melt yet straight at him, and he yelps as it knocks him square between the eyes.

The two of you stare at each other for a second—then start laughing again. Breathless. Tired. Shaky. But real.

And when you two finally get out? The bathroom is quiet now—just the dripping of water from your clothes and the sharp sound of your own breathing filling the space. Cold tiles against bare feet. Clothes stuck to wet skin. Neither of you speak, not really knowing how to shift from whatever the fuck that just was into something resembling normalcy.

You keep your eyes glued to the wall tiles as you change, tracing the cracks in the grout like they matter, like they’re not just old and chipped but deliberate. You can hear him moving behind you—zipper, shuffle, that little groan he makes under his breath like putting on clothes is somehow a personal attack.

“I should ask when your parents are getting home,” you mutter, voice flat but testing the waters.

There's a pause. One that lasts too long.

Rodrick snorts. “Why? So you can rat me out like the perfect little fucking narc you are?”

You roll your eyes, still not turning around. “Jesus, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t wanna get caught soaked and half-naked in your bathroom, dumbass.”

He doesn’t laugh. Not really. Just lets out this low, bitter chuckle like it scraped its way out of his chest.

You pull your skirt over your thighs, still damp and clinging. It’s awkward, weird, way too intimate for two people who still hate each other.

“I mean... they won’t be back till late.” He sounds far away. “Probably.” Then quieter: “Hopefully.”

Something about the way he says it makes you freeze. You turn your head slightly, eyes catching his reflection in the mirror. He’s tugging his shirt over his head, jaw clenched, eyes low. That same tension from earlier. Like he’s bracing for something.

You chew the inside of your cheek. “They hit you?”

The silence that answers you is enough. Not a yes. Not a no. Just silence.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, the word tumbling out before you can stop it.

“For what?”

“For... I dunno. Asking. Assuming. Existing.”

He huffs, then finally turns to look at you. His hair’s still wet, dripping onto the stained collar of his shirt, and his eyeliner’s smudged—not like he meant to wear it, but like it’s just always kind of there, from two days ago or something. He probably doesn't have his own eyeliner, much less make-up remover.

“My dad thinks hitting me builds character,” he says finally. “Greg just—Greg doesn’t care. He’s got his own shit. And Mom... Mom just makes casseroles like every white American mom ever and tells us to stop yelling. Classic fucking sitcom family.”

You swallow. The air in the bathroom feels thick. You sit back down on the edge of the tub, wet and miserable and weirdly heartbroken.

He leans against the door, arms crossed. “What about you? Gotta be exhausting. Must suck when people find out you’re actually... kinda fucked up too.”

You glance up at him. “It’s not a competition.”

“No, but I’m winning,” he smirks, and for a second you wanna throw the empty antiseptic bottle at his face.

But instead, you laugh. Just a little. Just enough for your chest to shake and your throat to loosen.

Rodrick looks at you like he doesn’t understand why he likes that sound so much.

You both sit there for a second—just two messed up kids with blood on their hands, wet socks, and secrets sticking to their ribs.

“Okay,” you say, standing up. “We need to get out of this house before I start trauma bonding and make out with you or something.”

He blinks, surprised. “You wish.”

You grab the math notes still crumpled outside the bathroom. “No, you wish, you loser. I’m still delivering these. Like the good little girl I am.”

Rodrick watches you leave, eyes on your back, your calves, the little limp from your cold feet in wet shoes.

He doesn’t say it—but he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll see you, even if he knows it's going to go back to seeing your dolly-curly hair bobbing in the corridors from afar... and nothing else. But at least he’s not dreading that fact anymore.

click for part 1 click for part 2 click for part 3 click for part 4 click for part 5 click for part 6 click for part 7 click for part 8 click for part 9 click for part 10 click for part 11 click for part 12

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you! Please do leave requests!

#lychee<3 #lychee's sillies #x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #mental health awareness #series #rodrick heffley x reader #dysfunctional perspective #dirtbag #vent fic #fanfic #wattpad #archive of our own #ao3 fanfic

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burtreynolds-esquire · 3 months ago

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Ashes

Chapter One - Change

Lottie Matthews x gn!reader

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'You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honour.' - Aristotle.

You moved to Wiskayok, NJ during the Summer of ‘95. Before the faithful day of the Yellowjackets plane crash, you have to navigate a normal high school life of friendships, crushes, unnecessary drama, actual serious drama, a shitty home life, and cheering at the sidelines for the girl’s soccer team.

Covers pre-crash, wilderness, and adult timeline.

Mature rating for later chapters for obvious Yellowjackets reasons. Cannibalism, violence, injuries, lots of swearing, possible sexual content (we’ll see).

AN: I originally wrote this with my OC in mind and changed the pronouns and everything for a reader version for tumblr. I noticed tumblr folk prefer reader inserts over OC’s so I did my best to accommodate that. There may be slip ups of female pronouns but I did my best to change every single one. I’ve kept it as vague as I can for the reader but certain things I can’t change, such as Lottie’s height being taller than the reader, the reader’s backstory and hobbies (which are still fairly vague in comparison to my OC) and during intimate scenes later on (if I write them) reader may be AFAB, it depends how well I am at writing sexual content without using gender specific words. I’ll do my best though!

~ Well begun is half done ~

1995

The warm rays of the late-afternoon sun cast a pleasant glow over the trailer park as it made its descent in the cloudless sky. A potent smell of marijuana lingered in the air as two teenagers sat on the back door steps of one trailer in particular, sharing a joint.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come tonight?” Natalie Scatorccio asked her companion before taking a drag of the joint in her hand.

Natalie had met you, the seventeen year old who was currently sitting to her right, just a few weeks ago when you and your mother had moved to New Jersey from out of state. The two of you had grown somewhat close rather quickly, bonding over your paternal trauma and habit for smoking weed.

“Absolutely not,” you replied, your accent a stark difference to that of your New Jersey friend. “I don’t know anyone there and I’ll just be stuck on my own all night while you have Kevyn following you around like a little duckling.” You took the joint off Natalie as soon as it was offered to you again.

“Come on, it’ll be a good way to meet some people before school starts,” Nat tried to persuade you. “Besides, it’s the last weekend of Summer vacation and the party’s at the resident rich girl’s house… a house that has a pool. Which means it’ll be your final chance to attend a pool party before school starts.”

“Then I definitely don’t wanna go,” you replied as you gave what was left of the joint back to Nat. “The bigger the house, the more people will be there. No thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Nat shrugged as she stood up to leave. “You still cool with picking me up tonight, though?”

“Of course, someone’s gotta make sure you get home safe. Tell Kevyn I’ll take him home too, I don’t mind.”

“Will do, thanks,” Nat replied before making her way to her own trailer.

“No worries,” you half-heartedly waved her off. You continued to sit for a few moments, listening to the sound of gravel disturbed by your friend’s boots as you heard her walk away. You leaned your head back against the rear door of your trailer home, soaking in the sun’s rays on your face with a contemplative sigh before finally standing up.

With the rest of the afternoon now free, you made the decision to wander the area a little more with your camera. You entered the trailer through the back door to grab the item in question from your bedroom, catching sight of your mother on the way in. She was sat on the couch in front of the television as she usually was on her days off, chain smoking her way through another packet of cigarettes.

Once you had what you needed, you walked passed your mom on your way out of the front door, which you noticed was slowly turning a shade of yellow from the constant cigarette use within the home.

“Hey ma, I’m going out for a bit. You need anything?”

“Hm?” Your mother looked up at you hazily, having not noticed your presence until you spoke. “Oh yeah, get me another couple packs of smokes, will you?”

“Sure thing,” you replied as you took some cash from your mother’s purse to fund the cigarettes. “I’ll see you later.”

Your mom didn’t reply, her focus being back on the TV once more. Rolling your eyes at your mother’s disassociation, you left your home.

As much as you hated that you had literally become trailer trash since moving to New Jersey, you were thankful to be away from your father at least. You often wondered about what he was up to now that you and your mother had left him behind.

‘I hope he’s drank himself to death by now,’ you thought bitterly as you made your way to a nearby park. ‘The world and everyone in it would be better off without him.’

Natalie woke up on Monday morning hungover as hell, feeling overly sensitive to the bright rays of sunlight filtering into her room through the gaps in the pitifully old curtains. Despite the party being on Saturday night, she’d spent the entirety of Sunday still drinking with a couple of her friends. And today she was feeling it.

And so, despite the pounding in her head and constant nausea in her stomach, she swallowed some pain killers, took a quick shower, and got ready for the day before hearing the telltale beep of a car horn outside.

Nat grabbed her leather jacket and opened the front door, seeing you waiting in the driver’s seat of your blue 1989 Toyota Corolla, 80’s rock music now playing from the tape deck.

“Get in, loser! We’re gonna be late,” your voice carried through the open windows. Nat rolled her eyes as she made her way to the car, noticing that you had placed your camera in the back seat.

“You bringing that to school?” She enquired once she sat in the passenger seat, nodding to the item sitting behind the you both.

“Yeah I was thinking of joining the yearbook or something, I dunno,” you explained, making your way out of the trailer park and onto the main road, heading in the direction of the school.

“Seriously?” Nat asked, her eyebrow raised. “Have you seen the kids that do yearbook? Nerds pick on them.”

You playfully scoffed at your friend’s teasing behaviour. You knew Nat well enough by now to know she wasn’t seriously insulting you.

“Be that as it may, I need an extracurricular and I’d rather it be something to do with photography. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“You could always try out for the soccer team.”

“Wooaahhh, I’m gonna stop you right there. Absolutely not. I’m nowhere near athletic enough for sports and you know it,” you laughed as you spoke.

Nat shrugged before answering.

“Fair enough, you could always try for the school newspaper as well. Either way, you’ll have to come to some of my games. The student photographers and reporters always make it to the most important ones,” she explained.

“Oh please, I’d be at all you important games anyway,” you smiled with sincerity. “I have yet to see these so-called legendary Yellowjackets in action.”

“Hey, we are legendary! I reckon we could go to Nationals this year if we don’t fuck it up.”

French class first thing on a Monday morning had to be a crime. Despite your maternal grandmother being born and raised in France, you had never taken to that particular language very well.

You looked around the classroom trying to find your seat, praying you didn’t seem as hopelessly lost as you felt. This classroom was laid out with tables built for two people instead of a single person, presumably so students could perform speaking exercises with a partner.

You finally found your assigned seat and sat down, the other one at the table already occupied. The student next to you was a girl with bright eyes, a warm and welcoming smile, and dark blonde hair. Or was it light brunette? You couldn’t quite tell to be honest.

“Hi there, you’re new,” the girl stated before introducing herself, her voice sounding just as sweet as her smile. “I’m Jackie Taylor.”

“Oh, uh hi…” you replied, a little taken aback at just how one person could be filled with so much pep this early in the morning. “I’m (Y/N)… uh, (L/N).”

You didn’t mean to sound so awkward, really you didn’t. But Jackie’s attitude just took you by surprise and if you were being honest with yourself, you were still half asleep.

“Oh wow, a different accent! You’re from out of state?!” Jackie asked in awe. “People are gonna love you around here. Most of us have never left New Jersey. I have, of course, but still!”

“Uh, really? I can’t be that rare.” You honestly didn’t know how to respond.

“In small town New Jersey you are,” Jackie explained as she watched you take out your things, almost fascinated by your existence.

“So, (N/N)… can I call you (N/N)? you any good at French?”

“Anything good happen on your first day of school, then?” Natalie was once again sitting in the passenger seat of your car, her right hand hanging out of the window holding onto a lit cigarette.

“I actually made a friend,” you replied in the driver’s seat as you pulled out of the school parking lot.

“No shit!”

“You have the audacity to sound surprised. I can make friends, you know,” you squinted your eyes in a mocking manner. “Her name’s Jackie.”

“Ugh,” was the only reply you got from Nat. Evidently your first friend did not approve of your newest friend.

“What’s wrong with Jackie?”

“Seriously, Little Miss Preppy Over-Achiever? How’d you end up friends with her?”

“She sits next to me in French class and insisted on showing me around during lunch,” you replied simply.

“Oh, well that explains it. She’s gonna be relying on you all year, Jackie sucks at French,” Nat explained as she flicked her cigarette away out the window.

“Well, I suck at French too,” you shrugged. “By the way, when’s your first practice? I kinda need to meet your coach.”

“Wednesday straight after school, what d’you need coach for?”

“Because not only are you looking at a brand new newspaper photographer, I’ve also been tasked with taking portraits for the sports teams,” you smiled as you explained. “I’ll be sticking around you guys a lot this year by the sounds of it.”

“No fuckin’ way, that’s actually pretty cool,” Nat responded with genuine enthusiasm.

“Oh? What happened to me being worse than a nerd?”

“Shut up. I was messin’ with you, (L/N), and you know it.”

You just gave a chuckle in response as you drove

home.

Wednesday morning rolled around all too quickly for your liking and you had woken up barely on time, so you got ready for the day ahead with what little time you had. By the time you were showered and dressed, you noticed your mother had already left for work.

Since moving here, the two of you didn't spent much time together anymore. Hell, your mom barely spoke to you now but you couldn’t help but not hold it against her. You’d both been through a lot in terms of what your father had done and you figured your mom would be ready to talk about things, or anything really, in her own time.

You found yourself sitting in your car once again waiting on Natalie. This would soon become your usual morning routine, you figured. And, yet again, the two of you drove to school whilst sharing playful banter and a morning cigarette.

At lunch time, you spent your time in the room assigned to the school newspaper. Wiskayok High seemed to love its sports teams so much, even the newspaper had affectionately been named The Buzz Bulletin after the school’s mascot, the Yellowjacket wasp.

You didn’t really have anything to do other than introduce yourself and meet the people you’d be working with until graduation. Most importantly, you would be getting to know a girl named Jennifer Miller, a journalist who would be covering all the sporting events, both soccer and baseball, alongside yourself.

She seemed nice enough and you both got on just fine, but you didn’t immediately click with her like she had done with Nat and even Jackie. You felt like you’d be coworkers at best.

Your last class of the day was English, which you coincidentally took with Nat. The bleached blonde girl sat in the seat directly behind you so you were in prime position to be pestered the entire time. Whilst Natalie was a good enough student that she’d do her assigned work, she also took every opportunity to torture her poor friend.

“Natalie Scatorccio, I swear to God…” you mumbled quietly enough so only Nat could hear after another small paper ball had been tossed at the back of your head.

“God, I’m so fucking bored,” Nat commented with a sigh. “I can’t wait to get out of hear and blow of some steam at practice.”

“Okay girls, listen up,” Coach Martinez called out to his team, all of whom were scattered around the soccer field in their blue soccer uniforms, which they’d worn specially for picture day.

Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing and made their way to their coach as he stood near the edge of the field with you, where you were feeling nervous at suddenly being the centre of attention.

“This here is (Y/N), they’re our new sports photographer for the school paper,” he explained as he placed his hand upon your shoulder in a gesture of introduction. “They’re in charge of taking your portraits for the year so I’ll leave them with you. They’re all yours, (Y/N).”

A few girls nodded at you in acknowledgement and Jackie even shouted from among the crowd,

“Hey (N/N)!”

You found Jackie and waved a little awkwardly at her. With both Jackie and Nat just across from you smiling encouragingly, you started to feel a little more comfortable amongst the strangers that you could soon hope to call friends.

“Uh yeah, what Coach said,” you started, cringing internally at your clumsy first impression. You took a moment to take a breath and calmed yourself before speaking up again.

“I’m gonna need some group portraits from you all first before I move on to doing your solo ones,” you spoke a little more loudly, willing the confidence to be there. “I’m thinking in front of the Western goal post, there’s less cloud coverage which makes for better lighting. Also the sun won’t be in your eyes so less squinting.”

You got a few chuckles for that as the girls started to casually make their way over to the specified area. Coach Martinez and the other younger coach were already manoeuvring a long bench in front of the net for half the team to sit down on.

“Okay, I’d like the goalie to be front and centre on the bench please,” you called out once you had quickly checked that the area and lighting were perfect. A red headed girl holding a soccer ball made her way to the bench, introducing herself as she walked by you.

“Name’s Van,” she said as she nodded her head briefly in your direction.

“Hi Van,” you replied, repeating the name in an effort to remember it. Van obediently sat down on the bench and placed the soccer ball between her feet as you instructed the rest of the team.

“Okay so I’d like the captain to be right behind Van, so Jackie if you please… then you with the big doe eyes, you can stand next to Jackie… Nat I’d like you to go next…”

This went on until only the tallest of the girls were left, and they were to join Van on the bench. You looked around the remaining crowd to figure out who you’d like to place where.

“Hey,” you gestured to one of the girls, “tall, dark, and beautiful… you can sit on Van’s right side.” The girl in question seemed to hesitate for a split second and very nearly tripped over her own feet as she made her way over to the bench, thanking whatever Gods were out there that you hadn’t seen the hint of a blush spread across her cheeks. Unfortunately for her, Van had seen everything and watched with a smirk as her teammate sat next to her.

“Aaaand tall, dark, and gorgeous,” you gestured towards another player, “you can go on Van’s left side.”

After another few minutes, every single one of the Yellowjackets were in place and ready to be photographed. You were about to get started until someone else caught her attention. An excited looking blonde girl with a hopeful look in her eye was watching from the edge of the field. Her blue and yellow jacket stated that she was the equipment manager.

“Hey, Curly, you getting in on this or what?” You shouted towards her. The girl wore an expression of pure shock before changing it to enthusiasm.

“M-me? Really?!”

“Yeah, get over here,” you called casually, not realising how much being included meant to the girl. The young equipment manager ran over and stood on the end, a wide and toothy grin adorning her face.

“Okay guys, let’s do this.”

Once you had taken an adequate amount of group shots, you let everyone go about their warm ups while you did the solo photos of each player. With the promise that they didn’t get too sweaty, of course. These would be their portraits for the year so they had to look good.

You did each one in numerical order, starting with number one: Van

It didn’t take long to get through each girl and when you got to number five, you smiled warmly as the girl approached somewhat nervously.

“Oh hey, if it isn’t tall, dark, and beautiful,” you greeted her as you got your camera ready to take yet another portrait for the team portfolio. “I’m sorry, I got way ahead of myself back there and never actually asked you your name.”

You, once again, were completely oblivious to the deep blush on the girl’s face.

When number five finally reached you, you realised just how tall she actually was in comparison to yourself. The height difference was very apparent.

“Lottie,” the girl introduced herself softly, her voice sounding careful and deliberate as she made eye contact with you for the first time.

“Lottie…” you repeated. “It’s nice to meet you.”

———————

#yellowjackets #Lottie Matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio #she’s our bff #fanfic #Yellowjackets fanfic #my work #I HATE WRITING FIRST CHAPTERS OMG

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ghostcam4812 · 5 months ago

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Dandy's World Glisten Redesign!

(My version/AU) Glisten!!! Our favorite perfect fashionista… Remember these r just my headcanons and you don't have to agree! ^_^ (sorry if this one isn't written as well! I'll work on fleshing him out better in the future) Glisten!!... What a complex toon... On the outside layers, he seems very two-faced. Some toons consider him stuck-up, even passive aggressive and rude where he means to just be snarky. His sense of humor and wording can often fall flat, leaving him feeling embarrassed; though, less and less as he has learned to mask his "poor" senses of communication. ..But, all the more to practice! Glisten practices day and night, not only with how he talks, acts, and dresses, but with his abilities and skills. Everything is practiced, because everything must be perfect. He is nothing if not perfect, and no one can know that he isn't truly perfect. Toons tend to think he is overly-confident, self-obsessed and absorbed in his own world, that he cares only for himself and no one else. This is far from true, but, he must admit his image is important, and he doesn't really know how to balance his life. He is often overly anxious, so worried about what others are thinking of him, and what could go wrong, when it'll go wrong, and so on... He doesn't take breaks when he's supposed to, overworking himself to passing out or even injury. He doesn't listen to his friends when they tell him he needs to stop, because there's no time for a break! In reality, Glisten is horrified of the concept of passing time, and he is so scared of what the future holds that he fears he has no "time to waste"; including breaks, relaxing, or spending lots of time with the people he loves. This causes him to become... somewhat isolated from the other toons. The only toons who truly know any extent of his issues is Rodger and a few others (I haven't decided yet lol), though Rodger has taken up as basically his therapist friend. He loves his friends, some are even family to him. But he is always, always scared deep down, that if he isn't perfect, or the way they expect him to be... they will abandon him. And he'll be alone. Forever. ...But! There's no way that can happen, if he just keeps practicing and, well, pretending... and if time never truly passes, and if nothing goes wrong or changes. Right?

Dandy's World art & hc/au info requests open (including OCs for art) in my ask box! I will have delayed responses (as of posting), especially to things I want to give art with on my answer! :} Might not have another big redesign art post like this for a bit, sorry! But hang in there, I'll be back on track, hopefully soon! 💓 thank you SO much for all the support, it genuinely means the world to me and has made me feel so much better in my life lol 💞🥰

#dandys world #dandysworld #dandy's world fanart #dandys world roblox #character redesign #dandy dw #fandom #dandys world fanart #glisten dandys world #dw glisten #glisten the mirror #dandys world glisten #roblox dandys world #dandy’s world fanart

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thecherrylady · 5 months ago

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ROTTMNT: The Komodo Sisters

[Tap for better quality ♡]

Oh, what's this?? An OC rewrite??? If you followed me from my previous blog, you already know Tasmin [the name is Tasmin now] is a familiar TMNT OC of mine, and yall, I missed her and this fandom sm. 😭 I decided my girl needed a re-write and character update, she deserved it. And she's also got a few new friends I'd like to introduce to you all! Featuring my take on a Rise Version of Mona!

[Rambles and character into below♡]

Up until Rottmnt, the Komodo sisters other than Tasmin did not have names, as in the beginning of the TMNT franchise they were just a group of rebellious human juveniles with Tasmin as there leader- but in Rise, the roles are a bit swapped. Instead, Mona is the leader of the group and the oldest, with Madonna and Angel being three Komodo Dragon Yokai and Tasmin, the only human. She was found as a baby on the streets of New York by BG and taken under her care.

They were taught and trained under Big Mama and the hotel staff and are all vigilantes in the works. They are minor Antagonists to the Turtles when they carry out missions for Big Mama around New York or sometimes in the Hidden city when the Turtles run around having shenanigans there.

But Tasmin on the other hand is usually directly at Big Mama's side- since she's a human, Mama wants to keep her sheltered from the upside world as well as the Hidden City to keep her protected from danger. So Tasmin usually has to miss out on all of the fun whilst her sisters are out doing all the cool stuff.

But Tasmin isn't completely rendered useless, while she's also Mama's little tea maid, she's also the tech-wizz of her sisters, and uses wristbands or ear pieces to communicate or track/watch the Komodo sisters and give them information on what their mission is.

🩷

Mona is the oldest of the sisters, even if her stout and shorter appearance compared to her other sisters seems to defy that fact. But don't let her size fool you. This ball of energy can be firey - and she's a total brute who can carry things like 10× her weight. For a brutal vigilante, Mona is a very bubbly and sweet lizard who loves her sisters and is always trying her best to make them all get along. She's willing to stick up and defend her sisters for anything.

💙

Madonna is the next oldest and is on the more contrast side of Mona. She's stubborn, aggressive, and competitive. She likes to take missions seriously and do her best to be praised and respected by Big Mama. Tasmin and Madonna have a slight sibling rift/rivalry between another, mostly because Madonna sees Tasmin as some 'golden child' who is Big Mama's favorite, making her very jealous.

💛

Angel is the happy medium of the sisters. She's very chill, laid back, and mellow. A hippy/surfer is what the youngest of the sisters is usually called [by Madonna, mostly] with her seemingly calm and annoyingly peaceful approach to even the most intense situations. Angel tries to keep all her sisters from getting to each other's throats when things start to get rocky, making her the mediator half of the time.

💚

And finally, Tasmin, the only human of the sisters. Tasmin is the brains of the Komodos, and uses her smarts and wits to keep her sisters on track and focusing on their missions... Even if her attempts are futile. Though she tries her best to hide it under the 'perfect' child image for Big Mama. Her competitive and rebellious spirit battles her smarts and desire obey at times, with Tasmin love for adventure and the idea of going to the upper side of the city with her sisters, sometimes it's a battle between what her heart wants an what her brain wants.

Facts♡

The sisters weapons [if not their sharp teeth, claws, and strength] are blow darts. They use their venomous spit to coat the darts as their weapons. In reality, their saliva is toxic, but in the show it just causes the victim to grow paralyzed and inebriated for a while.

Tasmins weapon of choice is what appears to be a measly staff, but with a little push of a button it transforms into a large hammer/weapon.

#🍒𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲 #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt art #rottmnt #rottmnt mona lisa #rottmnt oc

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najaemism · 7 months ago

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i think she knows! | karina x fem!oc smau

meet the cast: series regulars!

synopsis. march shim and karina yu had been compared and pitted against each other for years, and the media even dubbed them as rivals simply because their careers were slightly similar. their professional lives cross when they’re both casted as leads in a new series, sparks flying both onscreen and off.

(oh—and march also runs a secret stan account for karina.)

warnings. language

— march shim!

an actress/singer-songwriter.

she starred in her first role in a movie in 2016, and from there she quickly rose to fame after being taken under the wing of famous box office movie actor, wonwoo kim.

she occasionally releases music but has never toured. she had realeased two eps, an album, and a few singles.

she focuses mainly on acting and had become pretty popular despite only being in the industry for seven years.

the media pits her against karina yu, another singer-actress, since they are from different companies and have slightly similar careers. she doesn’t really care about the media creating a rivalry between them because she runs a stan account for karina

read march shim’s wikipedia page here!

wonderstruck (2018) is march shim’s debut ep, released on may 8, 2018. her debut single off the ep was “the way i loved you”.

confessions of a homeschooled girl (2021) is march shim’s first album, released as a surprise for her fans on her birthday, november 17, 2021. included in the album is her single from the previous year, “pretty girls”, and a target exclusive version of the album included her single from the dead girl walking soundtrack, “brutal”.

day off in kyoto (2023) is march shim’s second ep, released on november 23, 2024. the ep consists of four songs she wrote and recorded during her two-week vacation in kyoto. the last track of the ep was a song written for two friends of hers from the industry, who would then create a series with the same title, with shim as one of the principal cast.

the fans: archers 🏹

— karina yu!

an actress/singer-songwriter.

starred in her first acting role in a tv show in 2015 for a minor role. was immediately casted in a lead role later that year for a different tv show of the same creators. her career went off from there.

she started a music career only in 2021, releasing her debut ep, and then a full album in 2023. people say she the potential to become the next "pop princess" but she says she has no plans in doing music full-time since she prefers acting more and music is just a side hobby.

has been pit against march shim since they both rose to fame at the same time, but she doesn’t really care about the supposed rivalry and respects march as an artist.

sue me (2021) is karina yu's debut ep, released on september 8, 2021. her debut single off the ep was the title track, written after her former manager had tried to sue her the year prior.

new romantics (2023) is karina yu's first album, released on november 14, 2023. the album had been critically acclaimed, with all songs debuting at the billboard hot 100 during its first week. while people assumed she'd be focusing on her music career after this album, she had quickly clarified that music was just her hobby and that she intends to still focus on her acting career.

the fans: loveyus 💌

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

notes.

pls read march’s wikipedia page (carrd) i spent a really long time making it and im rlly happy how it turned out HAHAHA

taglist for this au is still open!

reply in the main masterlist or send me a dm if you want me to use your user as a fan account in this smau!

taglist. @archivedmkl @yuyuy90 @linonyang

#karina x oc #karina social media au #karina smau #karina imagines #karina scenarios #karina fluff #karina angst #karina x reader #karina yu #yu jimin #aespa #aespa x reader #aespa smau #social media au #smau: i think she knows

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starleska · 2 months ago

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Popping in for a Doctor Who-related ramble from the perspective of someone who knows only a few things BUT am incredibly tempted to start watching it thanks to some friends of mine and the Mr Ring-A-Ding Tumblr craze... wait, who said that:

I don't know how many folks noticed this, but - as I'm a bit of an animation nerd - I noticed something in this video of Lux/Mr Ring-A-Ding clips: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=St6HSXeaB1E

In the timestamps 1:22-1:23, 1:33-1:38 and 2:37-2:39, I could be overthinking things but I swear he pulled a "Milt Kahl head shake/swaggle" (or at least some version of it).

If you're not familiar with what I'm talking about, Milt Kahl was a very renowned animator who worked on a lot of Disney movies and was known for animating characters doing this pretty expressive gesture (yes, there is also an entire compilation of those specific scenes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDyaZvQQaNo

2. Although I have a very surface-level understanding of the Pantheon of Discord (I have to quickly thank you for your posts explaining that bit of DW lore), I do adore the concept of it.

So much so (also thanks for my ongoing obsession over Lux/Mr Ring-A-Ding) that I've pondered over the idea of two extra gods (fan OCs?):

Arcoíris, the God of Art

Seimei, the God of (biological) Life

Details are still nebulous, but I'm liking how they look in my head - as well as their potential dynamics with the other Pantheon members.

first of all: a huge welcome to the Doctor Who fandom!!! 🥳 we always love getting new fans, and entering because a handsome villain caught your eye is very common indeed 😉 second: oh you absolute genius, you're so right!!! i'm familiar with the Milt Kahl head swaggle but the only one i caught was the bit where Mr. Ring-A-Ding is adjusting his bow-tie: subtle yet absolutely there!! that little satisfied smile is key, and it's giving me flashbacks to both The Jungle Book and Robin Hood 👀 amazing catch!! with your fab animation knowledge, perhaps you can help solve another mystery:

do you have any idea what that animation reference is at 2:03, on the word 'sounds', where Mr. Ring-A-Ding's eyes move back and forth in a very sinister way? it looks so familiar and i know it's referencing something, just can't place what 🙈💖 third: i am absolutely adoring both of these OC concepts, oh my goodness!!! excellent names too—Arcoíris would be a marvellous complement to the God of Light 😉💖 i'm sure lots of people (myself included) would love to see your OC concepts if you chose to sketch them! very curious as to what forms they'd have...👀 and oh my goodness, don't worry at all about not knowing some of the Doctor Who lore, that's part and parcel of being a fan 😂 the great news is that there will always be someone who knows more lore than you, so you can just kick back and relax, vibing with whatever stories/concepts/characters you like the most!! :3c

#it's lovely to meet you Alex!! hope you enjoy your stay in the fandom for the world's longest-running and most ridiculous sci-fi show 😂#i can assure you the writers are also just making shit up as they go along #and there are SIXTY-ONE YEARS of contradictions. so we've ended up as a surprisingly chill fandom hahaha #god bless Mr. Ring-A-Ding patron saint of new Whovians #mr. ring-a-ding #mr ring-a-ding #mr ring a ding #lux #lux imperator #doctor who #dw #milt kahl #disney #starleskasks #long post

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syninplays · 1 year ago

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So uhm... I did a thing...

✨Character Info Template✨

UPDATE 11.24.24: this template now has a page theme version! if you're not a fan of templates, you can get the code to use it as an interactive multimuse page >here<

Been meaning to do this a long time ago (and actually started it but never finished it, lol) as a way to share some more information about my ocs without needing to use a custom page theme, but mostly because I haven't found any page theme that looks exactly as I want and allows this much customization.

There are two versions and both are almost exactly the same; but the example shown in the left has an 'appearance' section which is small and has few quick facts regarding the oc's appearance; while the example on the right has a 'moodboard' section instead which allows you to add more info about your oc.

You can change every section/title to fit your needs like I did in the examples below; I personally removed some categories as well and got rid of some connections as this oc doesn't have that many close friends/partners to fill the original template. However, I also included an extra separated 'connections' section in the download in case you want to add more people and more information.

I recommend you stick to square-shaped pictures so it's easier to fit them to each section. Also if and when you edit the information or section titles, please select only one line at a time to replace it so you don't lose the text format. (Titles shouldn't change because that's a single format/font within the same text box, but should it change you can always hit ctrl+z hehe) When you're done, I strongly recommend you save this as a .png instead of .jpg so it's the best possible quality!

Last but not least, this is a .psd file. So you'll need either Photoshop (I did this with Photoshop Portable, but it supports newer versions of PS and it *should* support older versions too) or Photopea to open and edit this file.

Credits: Adobe Photoshop, Inter font, Golften Vintage font

>DOWNLOAD< (patreon but free :p)

(note: I'm posting this with my gaming blog because I think my fellow gamers might be interested in this, but please consider giving credits to me if you use this template by tagging @synindoodles instead of this blog)

More info on how to use and edit this template below the cut!

Layers:

>Each layer is properly named and categorized. The general layers such as the background, the icon shape and background shapes are under the groups.

>If you don't want to see/don't need one of the connections' pictures and information, I recommend you find which one it is (1, 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6) and click on the eye symbol next to the layer to hide it so that way if you ever need it, it won't be truly gone.

>To edit a text section, simply find the layer (such as General Information>Left Column) and double click on the 'T' symbol next to the layer. That way it will open edit mode and allow you to edit the text, just don't hit delete or enter while everything is selected or you'll erase it :p

>Main text sections aren't separated, they're blocks of text. I recommend you don't remove the amount (for example, if you downloaded the version with the 'appearance' section, which has 5 sections of information, don't remove the fifth line.) Either leave it empty or replace it with another data, otherwise it will look weird. The 'general information' section might look good even if you remove a few lines, just don't get rid of the whole block of text.

Pictures:

>To add a new picture, simply paste it over this document and move it using the Move Tool.

>To frame it (so it becomes a circle or fits over the shape you want), make sure the picture layer is over the layer you want, then while holding alt click between the two layers. [For example, if you want to add a new main oc picture: 1) paste the pic you want, 2) move it with the Move Tool so it's covering the big circle, 3) once you've fully covered the shape (if it isn't you can resize it by right clicking on it then on 'free transform', sometimes you might need to hold shift to proportionally resize it) make sure the newly pasted pic layer is over the layer named "picture goes here", 4) hold the alt key and hover your mouse cursor over the line between your pic layer and the circle layer until you see an arrow going down symbol, once you see it click it and tah dah! your picture should now have the same shape as the circle! - you can further move it if it doesn't fit the way you want with the Move Tool (;

Others:

>You can change every color, font and section to your liking, just don't change the general layout of the template.

>To hide/show the guides (those bright blue lines all over the document), click ctrl+,

>'Inter' is a free font and you can get it in the link above (linked with the credits), Golften Vintage is not, but you can get the demo version >here< (just scroll down and click the blue download button under license). I will not tell you how to install fonts as it might be different for everyone (for me it's C:/Windows/Fonts and I just drop the zipped files (except the .txt one) there), but google is your friend.

>I can't think of anything else that needs to be said here, but if you have any other question feel free to send me an ask or dm and I'll help you out!

>Last but not least, a like is appreciated if you plan to use this plus consider tagging @synindoodles if you use it <3

#psd template #template #characters page #muses page #muse page #muse template #character template #character page template #oc page #oc page template #synindoodles #rp resources #rp template #roleplay resources #roleplay template #writers resources #writing resources #writing template #writers template

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ufologyexpert · 4 months ago

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This made me go insane for 4 hours and 39 minutes of drawing. I miss drawing Fallout (especially my Fallout OCs). There's a painting of Elise (my Fallout 4 OC) that is taking foreverrrrrr to do. I think I've spent 4 hours on that one and I've only gotten her face done. But here's some stuff about Cain I've been dying to say.

⤷ I've started changing Cain's lore (once again). For right now I'm mainly focusing on changing his relationship with Butch and Boone.

I. Since Cain originally started out as a sorta self-insert I wanna keep his relationship with Butch. Which means they still get eloped (also as a kid I had the biggest crush on Butch and I would like to keep that in Cain's lore for my younger self lol). However, due to it being spontaneous, I'm changing it to where the relationship doesn't last. More so because Cain is going through the process of grieving his Father to being forced out of and being hunted down by the Brotherhood of Steel. This makes it hard for him to stay with Butch because he doesn't really have an outlet for all this anger and sadness, so he leaves the Capital Wasteland for a courier job.

II. He eventually makes it to the Mojave where he takes his last delivery before he plans to head back to the Capital Wasteland to stay with Butch (by the way, little to no progress was really made with handling his trauma by being taking on a courier job, he just got more stressed out). Obviously we know where this goes and he loses his memory so that never happens. But after the few years that passed they would've gotten back together if it wasn't for Benny.

III. Now with Boone. Since Cain first met Boone while still early-ish in the healing process from being shot in the head twice, Cain is still a very heavy chem user so he's not quite there yet. Plus with all his built up anger from previous years (especially dating back to Fallout 3) now coming out, he will definitely not have a good relationship with any faction, which you know includes the NCR. I mean Cain is still aware enough to not side with the Legion or go on massacring NCR troops, he's just not company you want around while his head is still jumbled. So obviously Boone wouldn't be too happy being around Cain when he's bad mouthing the NCR. Or threatening them. However, their relationship improves once Cain stops using chems so much and can control his anger again. At most they can be friends, even if Cain yearns to be something more than that. But it will never happen.

IV. Plus I'm making him more of a loner like his original non-legionary version (but not so much that he's always alone). This trait also comes from having only one friend in Vault 101. But his actual Fallout 3 self is something I'll probably talk about another day.

I tried so many times to draw a deathclaw only to use a png because I was tired of this.

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garricks4thwingqueen · 19 days ago

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Professor Tavis A part of Garrick week 2025 Day 1 Focused

Garrick Week 2025 Day 1 Focused @empyreanevents

Synopsis: I decided to take the focus prompt and give it to Garrick in Professor Tavis style! This is a prequel to my Professor Tavis series featuring my OC Sophia Riorson (Xaden’s younger sister). You do not have to read the series before this! I just thought it would be fun to do a snippet of how focused Professor Tavis thought he was on his work; after all any version of Garrick is a focused being. This is set in Sophia’s freshman year where my series starts in her senior year of college at Maple Hills University.

Word Count: 1554

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Cheating (Slightly kissing while in a relationship), Male Masturbation (Dick and Penis are also used), Prince albert pricing/healing.

Garrick’s POV Set Three years before Sophia’s Senior year at Maple Hills.

Today started off just like any other day when a new round of freshmen came into my Marine Biology Bachelors course that I was the main professor. I stretched upon waking at 5:30 a.m. due to slobber being on my face courtesy of my mastiff Duke before my 5:45 a.m. alarm went off. “The days of summer are over.” I said petting his head “It’s time for me to go into focus mode again.” I said standing up and getting out of bed, I was a focus driven person work first, play later. I pulled on my boxers and winced as the fabric hit the feeling of the fresh pricing on my penis. It was something I had done for myself just last week along with a new tattoo which was of a mandala patterned turtle on one of my shoulders.

I looked in the mirror before pulling my boxers all the way up. It was still red and swollen which was accepted the first few weeks, I knew it was going to take a while for it to heal fully. I was a little more careful pulling on my shorts; neglecting a shirt this morning as I nodded for Duke to head to the door for our morning walk. It was going to be another warm fall day in Maple Hills as Duke and I started to run. Running with Duke allowed me to focus on myself; it was one of my favorite things to run through the bike trail along the beach. Running the past few days had hurt due to the new piece of silver between my legs but I learned to focus my breathing to ignore the pain. I had always been the one focused personality ever since I was a little kid. In high school despite my good looks and toned body and my steady girlfriend Imogen at the time by my side was often sometimes something I’d get picked on for. I’d be so focused on reading or whatever rugby drill I was training at that time that my friends would start picking on me to get my attention.

9:00 a.m. later that same day

I had gotten to my classroom a half hour early. Class was due to start at 9:30 and it was only 9 a.m. I sipped on my venti cold brew with sweet cream foam and dash of caramel flavoring syrup as I looked over my roster for the year which I hadn’t even done yet. Only one student had stuck out to me only knowing her last name from her older brother being an ex player for maple hills hockey and the fact he took one of my courses his senior year last year as he needed a science elective; that student was Sophia Riorson, younger sister to Xaden Riorson.

I was brought away from my focus on the list when the classroom door opened.I sucked in a hopefully unnoticeable breath as two of my students walked in 15 minutes early. Judging by her long dark hair and her skin that was slightly tawny like her brothers one was Sophia Riorson. “Good morning ladies, you're early.” I said, taking another sip of my coffee. “Good Morning Professor Tavis; I’m Sophia Riorson and this is my best friend Jess Mairi.” Sophia said as they sat down in the first row in the seats that were to the right of my desk. “Nice to meet you.” I said with a slight catch in my throat.

Gods I thought to myself I hope Sophia is single because I shouldn’t have thoughts like this towards a student.Focus. I thought to myself. You just need to focus on your job like you usually do and everything is going to be fine.

As the years went on Sophia became one of my best students and my one student I mentor and became advisor for in each new grouping of students. Even though we started to learn things about each other and even though she had a boyfriend; my soul focus became Sophia. No not in a creep way; I wasn’t a creep even though I was ten years older than her. It was the Friday before Christmas break in Sophia’s freshman year when I was snapped from my current focus on grading term finals by a knock on my office door; “come in.” I said putting the grade on the last test which was Sophia’s as she entered my office herself.

“Sophia.” I gestured to the seat across from my desk. “Um, this is for you.” she said quietly “You didn’t have to get me anything but thank you.” I said taking the wrapped item from her and unwrapping it. “Sophia, this is amazing, did you draw this?” “I did. I couldn't help but notice you loved turtles. They are one of my favorites too and I want to become a Biologist.” She said a little nervously; I knew; we both knew there was energy from the start floating between us that shouldn’t be in a student professor dynamic especially when one party had a relationship.

The drawing was of the same drawn image I used from google for my tattoo; the fact she chose the exact same one to draw- “Sophia can I show you something?” I asked, focusing on her nervous body energy that no one else would have been able to pick up. I pulled my shirt up over my head and turned so my back was facing her. “That's-” She said through a shaky voice. “Yes.” I said softly. “May I?” she asked. “Yes.” I didn’t have to ask what she wanted as she came over to my side of the desk and started to lightly trace my turtle tattoo on my right shoulder blade.

My breath hitched as she couldn't trace the patterned swirls down my right arm. I tried to focus on anything but Sophia; but at this point she was my main focus. I placed my hands softly on each side of her waist and she didn’t pull away despite the fact that she had a boyfriend. “Professor Tavis.” She said softly my mind was focused only wanting one thing as I finally said “Nonsense. Garrick. Call me Garrick Sophia.” She nodded as she reached up and traced my jawline, my eyes focusing on hers and her touch alone as I truly smiled out of happiness for the first time in a long time as she let out a giggle. “You have dimples.” She said, poking each one softly and playfully. “I do.” I kept smiling back.

“Sophia?” “What is it?” She asked softly, still tracing my jawline and my dimples. “I’m trying to focus on something else right now. I've even been trying to focus on naming presidents in my head to distract me from my main focus of what I really want to do right now.” “And what’s that Garrick?” Hearing her say my name was going to be my undoing. “I know you have a boyfriend, but I really want to kiss you. This whole year I’ve been trying to focus on anything but you and your amazing personality and your-” She cut me off she actually had the nerve to cut me off as her lips meet mine.

My soul focus once again on Sophia Riorson. The way her lips felt against mine, the slight smell of Vanilla and Honey coming from her perfume and worst of all the way she felt sitting on my lap. “Merry Christmas, Garrick.” She said one she pulled away from me. “Merry Christmas Sophia.” I felt her reluctance in wanting to let go of me; I knew her focus was on me just as much as mine was on her. “I can’t.” She said softly. “I know.” I said as I traced her cheek once more. “I know I can’t ask you to wait but Jack and I have never had the greatest relationship.-”

I nodded “I’ll wait Sophia. You have my word. Hell you have my soul focus on you. You’ve been the only thing I can focus on this whole year even when I try not to because I know it’s wrong on so many levels. So I promise you I can wait.” She nodded off my lap. “Merry Christmas Garrick.” She said getting up and walking to my office door. “Merry Christmas Sophia, see you in the new year.”

“Fuck.” I cursed looking down at the enlarged tent that had now made a home in my pants. I hadn’t noticed when Sophia was sitting in my lap, but I knew she had to have noticed; I mean a guy can’t simply hide an 8-inch soft erection that easily. “Fuck.” I hissed unzipping my jeans and looked up at my door as I noticed Sophia had indeed locked it on the way out. My soul's new focus was now my dick and getting rid of my erection as I slipped my hands into my boxers and closed my eyes and tried to think of anything else besides Sophia and failed as I started to focus on the rhythm my hand now took to pumping along my length.

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #garrick tavis #empryeanevents #Garrickweek2025

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 11 months ago

Note

“Also because I want [Nino] to be more narratively important but that is a rant for another day.” And will that day be someday soon? Wink wink nudge nudge :3c

I am happy to give Nino some love, but before we do, we need to talk about how badly canon has failed him. The reason we need to have that talk is that the love I'm going to give is far more headcanon-y than I usually go in these analysis posts. For most characters, I can give a strong canon-based argument for a core characterization. For Nino? Well, I am pulling this stuff from canon, but I wouldn't exactly label it a "strong" argument. There are even elements of my take on Nino that you could label "grasping at straws".

And I'm happy to own that! I delight in giving Nino all the love he deserves even if it doesn't perfectly match canon, but that means that my Nino is less me leaning into the best parts of canon and more me shifting through canon, grabbing a few shinny bits, and weaving them into something that you may not agree with because my vision for Nino is to elevate him to match Alya in terms of narrative importance because I want the team show season two promised me even if I have to make it myself!

And if you don't want that? Then that's fine! I'm not arguing that everyone should adopt this take. My version of Nino is about as close to an OC as I get when writing fanfic. So let's get into it and talk about why I had to do that. (Also note that I have nothing against OCs. It's just that, when it comes to my own writing, I try to reserve them for original fiction or for very minor roles that no canon character could fill. Totally a matter of personal preference and not some sort of judgement.)

The Many Ways that Canon has Done Nino Dirty

If we look at what is arguably the main group of friends - Alya, Marinette, Adrien, and Nino - then we can see a clear base concept for the first three. Alya is the plucky reporter. Marinette is the headstrong leader. Adrien is the sweet goofball. Nino is... Alya's boyfriend? Adrien's best friend? Chris' older brother?

This is the problem that I was referring to above. Alya, Adrien, and Marinette have clear roles that you could pick out by just watching Origins. Nino doesn't. He doesn't even speak in part one and part two gives him all of six lines. These lines establish him as a nice guy since they're all about him being kind to Adrien, but that's about it. Here's one of them as an example:

Miss Bustier: Agreste, Adrien? Nino: (quietly to Adrien) You say "present". Adrien: (jumps up with his hand raised) Uh, present!

This is a cute moment for sure, but when I look at it, I can't tell you who Nino is supposed to be other than a nice guy, which isn't much to go on. Nice guys can fit a lot of roles.

This isn't necessarily a flaw. Some characters have roles that are immediately obvious and some characters don't. This second class of character usually just has a more complex role that will be discovered and defined based on their actions as the story goes on. However, because Miraculous' writing is all over the place, Nino gets screwed. Instead of his actions defining his nebulous role, his actions make his role impossible to pin down! Here are a few examples:

Nino the Protector:

Season two was big on the idea that miraculous had to be suited to their holders. That's why Chloe kept getting the bee as we saw in Malediktator:

Marinette: I must choose someone who's not impressed by people in power. Who can help me trap Malediktator. Huh?! Of course! That's it. (reaches for the Miraculous of the Bee)

And why did Nino get the turtle in Anansi?

Marinette: I need a protective Miraculous. (gasps, and points at the Turtle Miraculous Master Fu is wearing) That's the one I need, Master! (Master Fu gasps) Uh, if it's okay with you. Master Fu: (smiles at Wayzz, who nods to him) Do you have someone in mind, Marinette? Marinette: Actually, I think I found just the right person.

Okay, cool, we finally have a strong defining trait for Nino! He's a protector! Or, at least, he was here. Other episodes go directly against this role such as this nonsense from Illusion:

Nino: What's up is Ladybug and Cat Noir don't have us to help them anymore. Alya: (nervously) Um, um— uh— what do you mean, "us"? Nino: Well, us, you Rena Rouge, me Carapace! (Alya kicks his leg underneath the table) Ouch! What's the big deal? We can tell Marinette and Adrien we used to be superheroes.

This first issue with this episode is that we see Nino out his and Alya's secret identities without her permission even though the resistance did NOT require an identity reveal to be a thing. In other words, our supposed protector is taking a big risk for no reason. Then he goes and does this:

Nino: Hence my plan. We're gonna film an akumatization. Alya: And how are you, Comrade Ketchup, gonna be in the know when and where this akumatization takes place? Nino: Easy, Comrade Beurre Maître d'Hôtel. I'm gonna make it happen.

Which leads to the four friends antagonizing Gabriel even though Nino knows how complex Adrien and Gabriel's relationship is. A move that makes no sense for a supposed protector because Gabriel was far from their only option. Nino could have picked anyone, but he went with the riskiest candidate possible, exposing his best friend to a potentially massive backlash.

Nino also doesn't even try to contact Ladybug and Chat Noir prior to this insane plan, thereby putting the whole city at unnecessary risk! What kind of protector purposely causes an akuma without also coming up with mitigation strategies to minimize the resulting damage?

Everything Nino does in this episode should disqualify him from ever holding the turtle again or, at the very least, he should have to redeem himself before holding the turtle again. This is especially true since he never apologizes for anything he did in Illusion and this is just one example of the issue. It's actually kind of hard to find moments where Nino acts as a protector even though he holds the miraculous of Protection. So is he supposed to be a protector? Who knows!

Nino, The Empath:

That first example was long, so we'll pick two quicker ones to flesh this out. The first one is how Nino and Adrien's relationship is defined. In Origins and the New York Special Nino is written as a kind and sensitive guy who is acting as Adrien's guide to dating and other elements of the real world:

Nino: Yup. I love Adrien, but he's like a baby chick that's just started cracking out of his egg. He has a hard time understanding the signals people send him. Alya: What signals? Marinette isn't exactly sending them clearly. I mean, look! What is she doing with her arms? Telling him what to do in case of an emergency landing or something? Nino:(sighs) If only this trip could help Adrien finally come out of his shell.

But then you have episodes like Animan where Adrien is Nino's guide to dating:

Nino: Shhh! You know I'm no good with the ladies, especially this one all of a sudden. I mean, dude, do I go up to her and crack her a joke? Shoot her a compliment? Invite her to the zoo? Play it serious? Adrien: Nino, you're way over-thinking this. "Invite her to the zoo", you serious? Nino: Well, they have this really cool new exhibit there. Adrien: Listen, just be yourself, man.

And episodes like Illusion (discussed above) and Psycomedian (see below) where Adrien is deeply uncomfortable and Nino doesn't notice:

Nino: See, dude? I told you! Hilarious, right? Adrien: Uh... (laughs nervously) Right! Really funny, Nino. Nino: I gotta show you his other sketches. It's insane that you don't know Harry Clown! (laughs)

Which might work if these episodes were about Nino learning a lesson, but they're not. Nino learns nothing, so is he generally in tune with others or is he kind of oblivious to other peoples' feelings? And why did Nino ever think that Adrien was a good source of romantic advice if he also thinks that Adrien is "a baby chick"? Pick a lane people!

Nino's Hobbies

Our final source of confusion is trying to define what Nino even enjoys doing. Horrificator and Queen Banana have him playing around as an amature film maker, but we also see him acting as an amature DJ with the wiki even claiming that he's the head of the school's radio station. So which of these things is his passion? Movies or music?

To be clear, I think it's fine to have multiple passions, but this is a story. You want to keep your characters' non-story-relevant hobbies kind of simple, especially when the character in question is a relatively minor side character who rarely gets much screen time. It's why Alix is only really into roller skating and why Nathaniel is only really into art. You don't want them to be more complex than that.

Even the main characters get this "keep it simple" treatment with Marinette only really being into fashion and Alya only really being into her blog. The girls don't need two demanding passions that would eat up all of their free time, but that's what Nino gets! Film and music are both incredibly demanding passions and it's hard to balance a character who is into both who is also an active superhero. That's a lot for one dude to do well!

I've actually seen fics that cast Nino as wanting to be a director and fics that make him want to be a professional DJ because canon really isn't clear about this pretty basic aspect of his character, but you do need to pick a lane when writing anything that gives Nino a career and so people seem to pick a passion at random.

My Version of Nino

By now, we're hopefully in agreement that canon has made a mess of Nino's character to the point where it's near impossible to say "this is who Nino is supposed to be." However, if you want to write Nino, then you do kind of have to pick a characterization to go with, so here's what I've come up with. Feel free to embrace it or reject it, but know that you will pry my version of Nino out of my cold dead hands because I utterly adore him.

Since Nino is Carapace, I base everything about him around the concept of "protect and defend" because he needs to feel like he deserves his heroic alter ego. I do not want to make canon's mistake of giving him a miraculous that massively contradicts his writing. Especially when that writing makes him feel interchangeable with other characters. At this point, no one from canon screams "turtle miraculous" unless you want to give it to Adrien since he's Ladybug's defender.

I also designed Nino around Alya and Adrien as those will arguably be his most important relationships. He should feel like a perfect fit for boyfriend and best friend respectively. I also took Marinette into consideration because he's going to be part of her team/friend group, so he should work with her, too.

What all that means is that I basically said "okay, this is where Nino is supposed to fit in the story and this is the dumpster fire that canon gave us, how do I pull pieces from the fire and paste them together to make a character that fits who Nino should have been?"

To really get into my version of Nino, I'd almost have to give you a fic to read, but that's way too much for a Tumblr post, so let's keep this high-level and just look at some of my notes on Nino from my lore Bible:

Nino is a major audiophile. He loves listening to music and watching movies/TV shows to study how they play with sound. He wants to be an audio engineer when he's older, but he also has a general passion for all things music and film. He’ll listen to any genre and watch almost any movie or show. He loves to take charge of the music at events so that the music really fits the crowd (and so it sounds good). It isn’t unheard of for him to go see an unknown band or an odd indie film on his own. This will become a major bonding point for Nino and Adrien because of the influence of Adrien's mother. Nino has seen all of Emilie's films and loves them. It will also bond him and Alya as his knowledge of film making will allow him to help her learn the art of filming now that she's doing complex things like actions shots and editing together multiple recordings.

Nino is generally pretty laid back and likes to hear people out. His reaction to confrontation is to try to calm everyone down so that they can get to the heart of the issue. He wants everyone to get along, but he's also not going to let someone take the blame when they shouldn't. Nino protects the innocent.

Nino is incredibly protective of the people he loves. If someone he cares about is in danger, his peaceful nature goes straight out the window. He’s the kind of person who would happily take a bullet for his friends and family. This will lead to him following Alya around once the hero stuff starts because he wants to keep her safe. Never let Alya go out alone if Nino is around or even just aware that a fight is happening. Alya thinks "scoop" and Nino thinks "my Alya sense is tingling." He's NOT there to stop her from doing what she loves, he's just there to be her spotter who lets her focus on filming while he watches for danger, though that will initially be a struggle for him. Treat this as his audition/training for Carapace where he learns to balance protective instincts with getting the job done so that he's ready to perfectly take on his miraculous.

When Nino’s folks split up, his mother insisted that the kids should go to therapy to help process things. They had individual and family counseling. Nino was actually pretty cool with the divorce as he’d seen it coming, but his brother was really affected by it, so Nino spent his time working on ways to help Chris (and being told that he was a brother, not a parent, but he still wanted to help). He learned a lot from going through it and it’s why he’s so good at dealing with emotional issues. He’s also good at not taking those burdens on himself. He wants to help, but knows that it's your battle. Marinette often looks to Nino for guidance on emotional issues because she knows that she's terrible at navigating them. She has given him full permission to stop her when she's too focused on solutions over support. All of the friends will help Adrien figure out social situations, but Nino will be the main guide as he's the one with the strongest skills in that area. Plus Adrien makes Nino's protective big brother instincts go crazy.

Nino’s a bit of a loner by choice. He has "weird" hobbies that easily lend themselves to being done alone and he doesn't have any interest in "forcing" his hobbies on someone who doesn't actually enjoy them, so he spends a lot of time by himself and rarely invites others to share in his interests. He only does that when he thinks that they'll actually enjoy what he's sharing. He doesn’t mind this, but he’s also a very welcoming individual who doesn’t like to see people left out, so he’ll come out of his shell when he sees someone who needs a friend. This usually leads to him making friends who soon become closer with others, but still view him as a casual friend. He’s cool with that. He's just happy that they found their people. Adrien will be the first friend who really stays Nino’s due to an understanding of Nino’s “weird” hobbies. After all, Adrien’s the son of an actress. He’s used to weird indie films and discussions of cinematography. I'd even say that he revels in it and realizes that he has missed it desperately since his mom got too sick to do that kind of thing. Basically, Nino will fill a spot in Adrien's heart that Adrien didn't even know was empty. Adrien can listen to Nino talk about cinematography for hours and never get bored. Before Adrien, no one knew that Nino was this talkative!

If anyone wants more insights into this topic, feel free to send an ask, but I think we'll call this post done now because it's SUPER long.

#nino deserves better #ml writing critical #ml writing salt

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