#been wanting to acknowledge this ask for ages now lol. Now that the kids are pretty much ready to go. I finally can

[burningcheese-merchant]

im betting a whole cheeseburger that one of their kids is gonna be named pepperjack cookie watch

Alright, FINE. YOU GOT ME. YOU SUNK MY BATTLESHIP, ANON

I actually made the kid up super early. Then later, I saw someone else on here also make a BurningCheese kid named Pepper Jack, and I thought "ah shit, I have to change everything now. I don't want to seem like I'm stealing from somebody". Then a little while later, I was looking at fanart on Twitter, and I saw, like... 3 different Pepper Jack Cookies lol? All sons, too. So my train of thought derailed into "ok so we just all agree that Spice and Golden would have a son named Pepper Jack, ok cool 👍" and I decided to keep mine the way he is lol. Consider it my version of the defacto BurningCheese child. I'm throwing my own hat into this ring today, might as well come clean about it

What kind of cheeseburger do you want? It better not be expensive, I need money to pay for the battleship you sunk with your ask

[222col]

Wait ok hear me out dadsbff!patrick with bimbo reader yeah 🤟🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

bimbo!reader x patrick zweig

summary: you finally get to watch patrick on the court

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw, age gap

꒰ notes ꒱ 100% open to a part two, just had this sat in the drafts for ages lol

patrick had always been a friend of the family, you just didn't get to see him often with all the travelling he did on tour. but he was always your favourite friend of your dads. patrick was actually cool, never really treated you as a kid like the rest of them did. even as you grew up, most of them treated you like you were the same seven year old that they once knew. not patrick, he always saw you for you, not just as his friends kid.

maybe that was because patrick was a fair bit younger than your dads other friends, or maybe that's just what patrick was like. you weren't sure, but you always loved it when he was around either way.

patrick was playing in a tournament taking place in your college town, and with his career starting to come to a close, you wanted to watch him play at least once before he retired.

but jesus christ. something flipped in you as you watched him on that court. you'd never seen him play in person before, you'd seen videos, sure, but nothing compared to the real thing. you'd never thought about patrick in the way in which you currently were. watching the sweat drip down his skin, the movement of his muscles as he bounced around the court, the grunts– no, groans that escaped him. it was sinful, the way he looked as he played.

you can barely acknowledge the fact that he's won the match when he does. unable to snap yourself out of the downright perverted daze he's put you into until he's stood right before you on the sidelines.

"you alright, kiddo?" patrick smirks, ruffling your hair as he wipes the sweat from his face with the towel in his hand. "what'd ya think then?" god, the thoughts in your brain could get arrested in some countries. physically shaking your head in attempt to snap yourself out of it. "yeah, um, yeah, pat, it was real good." you mumble, smiling softly as you look up to him through your lashes in your seat.

his body leans over the barrier between you, and the way the veins in his biceps are popping out as he does are not helping right now. "liked watchin' me win then?" he teases, ruffling your hair again. met with a grumpy pout as you smooth down your hair immediately after, causing a chuckle from patrick. "mhm, it was fun." you smile softly, nodding your head.

patrick can feel the looks of the crowd on him, the old women whispering as he talks to you, he doesn't need to ask to know what they're assuming about the two of you. thing is... patrick doesn't mind. he kind of likes how people are looking at you both. it's almost turning him on that people think he can get a girl as young as you, as fuckin' pretty as you. jesus, your dad would kill him if he could see the way patrick's eyes are drifting down to the bare skin of your legs.

"wait by the fence, kiddo, just gotta put my stuff in the locker room, 'kay?" patrick murmurs, waiting for your nod before scooping up his racquet bag and duffle. he appears moments later, fresh tennis kit over his still sweaty skin.

"got a favour to ask, babe." patrick murmurs, his hand gently resting on your lower back as he leads you toward the country club bar. you can barely register that he's said anything to you, too focused on the feeling of his hand on you. "mm?" you hum, as he pulls out a chair for you to sit down before sliding into his own opposite you.

he probably should feel worse than he does as he asks, definitely should have run it past your dad beforehand, but when has patrick ever done anything by the book. "you've got a single dorm, haven't you, kid?"

"mhm, yeah, why?" you murmur softly, elbows on the table as you lean on your palms. patrick's desperately trying not to pay attention to the way your top lifted when you leant over the table, his eyes darting to the newly exposed skin on your waist before looking back to your eyes. "well, i haven't got anywhere to stay tonight, so, um–"

"you can stay with me." you smile softly, cutting him off as you nod your head quickly. maybe a little bit too excited, but there was no way you were about to pass up this opportunity. "are you sure, babe? it might be longer than just one night." patrick murmurs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

shaking your head immediately, smile still plastered on your face, unable to look away from him. "s'okay, you can stay as long as you want, pat."

he was half surprised at your eagerness, but he was pushing down every inappropriate thought that was broadcasting in his mind. no, you were just being kind. just being the sweet girl your daddy had raised you to be. you were just giving your dad's broke friend a place to sleep that wasn't his car.

but one look at those wide eyes, all but begging him to stay with you. patrick could tell you were being more than sweet, you wanted him there. and jesus, the thought alone made him realise he's about to spend the week testing his self-control.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

[darling-i-read-it]

Burns

Charlie Swan x fem!reader, Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap (for both men, both are legal but carlisle is like 223297493 years old so do with that what you’d like lol), burns (second and first degree), doctors office, me knowing too much about twilight 

Author’s Note: IM WRITING A PART 2 RN BUT WANTED TO SEE IF YOU GUYS LIKED THIS <3 I literally randomly had a burst of inspo to write this and i lowkey love it…

Summary: You’re a waitress at the local diner to pay off tuition in the summer. You have a small crush on the chief of police who comes in to get his coffee from you. You thought that was all it was until you met the resident doctor when you have a mishap and now you’re stuck between two incredibly charming men that both have a little crush on you. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Forks, Washington was under a near constant cover of rain. You were aware of it when you woke up in the morning, prepared to see the dreary weather that greeted you through the window. You could smell the rain on the pavement before it came, see it in the clouds as they hovered above. You were always prepared for it, always ready for it. 

Today, the sun was out. Summer usually calls for something more temperate. You found that those days weren’t necessarily unwelcome, but never your favorite. Everyone went outside when it was sunny. You could see people you hadn’t seen in ages. You never made an effort to see them in the first place for a reason. There was an uncharacteristic amount of skin showing. It may only be mid 70s but everyone suddenly acted like the ocean water was a relief to their burning skin. 

You sweat easily, especially in the diner. The Lodge had little to no air conditioning and the sun brought people in droves. Everyone wanted a bite to eat. They all remembered the diner had milkshakes. It was never a great mix for a waitress. 

You turned the corner on your heel, giving a quaint smile to Cora, your coworker. She looked like she was going to melt away. 

“Do you think anyones gonna leave early today?” she asked quietly behind the counter. You shook your head. She had the coffee pot in her hand and was holding it tightly so it didn’t spill. You looked around the packed diner, laughter bubbling from sections where it normally was silent. You shook your head, giving her a sad look. 

“We’re in for one.” 

“I should’ve called out,” she muttered. “You should’ve called out. This place needs us.” You shook your head. 

“You’ve gotta put food on the table,” you reminded her. She had a kid who was going into middle school. You had met her when Cora brought her in, her headphones stuck in her ears and reading some trashy teen novel. 

“Always the voice of reason,” she muttered. “Plus, you gotta pay tuition.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

You were going to college in Seattle but always worked the summers back in Forks. You loved the little town despite its insanity. You found that most of it was quiet, even on louder days. Plus, it was always easy to find a job back home. You were practically shoved the waitress apron when you returned this summer. You had been doing it since you graduated high school, always trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You were coming upon your senior year in college and the extra money helped immensely. 

“Hey, your boyfriends here,” Cora teased. She pushed herself off the counter to refill someone’s coffee cup. You furrowed your brows in confusion even though you knew exactly who she meant. 

You watched as chief of police Charlie Swan walked through the doors with a clink of the bell above his head. He met your eyes and gave you an awkward half wave, which you returned slightly more enthusiastically. He walked up to the counter, squeezing between the people sitting there. Someone said hello to him and he gave them a nod in acknowledgment. 

“You guys are busy today huh?” he questioned, scoffing. 

“Just a bit,” you admitted. His presence never ceased to bring butterflies to your stomach. Maybe you were harboring a small/not so small crush on the sheriff but you tried your best not to show it. You assured Cora it was just something silly for you to feel as you passed through your work day. Still, her eyes lingered on yours as she went around the counter to greet someone else because she knew you were busy. “It’s the sun.” 

“Brings out all the loonies,” he said. 

“I imagine you’re busy out there too.” He was always scanning around to make sure no one was doing anything wrong. His eyes flicked from you to the people beside him, then back to you. 

“Taking my 15.” 

“Just to see lil ol me?” you teased. Even as the words left your mouth you felt self conscious of them. This time though, he gave a half smile. 

“You make the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he promised. You tried not to get flustered. 

“Well, it looks like you need a double today, Sheriff.” 

“Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?” You rolled your eyes. He leaned against the diner counter even though there were no seats. You turned around, every other table lost in your mind. Cora would help you out until he left.

“Well Charlie, it might be too hot for a hot coffee. You could’ve gone to one of those fancy coffee shops,” you offered, grabbing a coffee pot. 

“Yeah, can you imagine me ordering there? I have a hard enough time with you.” 

“I think I get what you mean by now,” you joked. You poured him a cup and grabbed three sugars and two creams. “Anything else?” 

“You always this quick with your service?” he questioned, looking at the people down the line who hadn’t gotten their food. 

“I’m just the coffee girl with a pretty smile. I don’t control the food orders.” You handed him a stirring stick as he opened his sugar packets. “Plus, you’re the chief of police Charlie. I don’t wanna get arrested.” He chuckled, a real genuine laugh. 

“I think I’ll let you off for this one.” You smiled at your success. The laugh was guaranteed to be the highlight of your shift. 

“Thanks Charlie.” You turned back to the kitchen which was starting to call things out. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” He grabbed some cash out of his wallet. “Keep the change.” 

“You’re my favorite customer Charlie,” you joked at his more than generous tip of 100%. He did a little salute with his finger and raised the cup to you. 

“Go do your job otherwise you’re bound to get more angry customers than I am.” 

You nodded once and bowed out of the conversation gracefully. You grabbed the food from behind you and started to bring it out. Cora gave you a look as you passed her, the smile plastered on your face a clear tell of your conversation. 

“Peach cobbler,” you said to one of your regulars. She was a small old lady who always came in on Saturdays, at exactly the same time. You enjoyed talking with her and catching up on her life. She got the same thing each time and the consistency was something you appreciated. “Sorry it’s been slower today Miss. Heidi. The heat has the whole of Forks out!” She shook her head, brushing you off. 

“No worries at all,” she assured you. “It’s not like I’m not gonna come back.” You shared in her shaky laughter. She picked up her fork just as you were about to leave and pointed it at Charlie. “You making heart eyes at the chief over there sweetheart?” You flushed immediately. Maybe you weren’t so great at hiding it. 

“Maybe. But keep your mouth shut Heidi,” you whispered with a smile. She chuckled. Her eyes lingered on Charlie who was finishing his coffee already. He had started a conversation with the man beside him. Charlie seemed to know everyone in town. 

“Aren’t you a little young for him?” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s perfectly constenting and legal,” you assured her. “I’m plenty older than his daughter if that’s what you’re gonna say.” 

“I was gonna mention.” Her eyes wrinkled at the edges, shaking her head. Her movements didn’t feel like she was disagreeing with you. More so that she was gossiping with a friend, just girls being girls. “He had his heart broken by her mother, you know. He’s a good man.” 

“Is that your consent Heidi? Because I don’t even know if he feels the same way.” Your voice was lighthearted. She grabbed your hand, her saggy skin feeling comforting. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much sweetheart.” You scrunched your face a little and shook off her words. You were still on the clock. 

“Enjoy your peach cobbler Heidi.” 

-

You brushed your hair out of your face. The sun had finally subsided for the evening, giving way for the clouds. You embraced their presence, appreciating the way that the cool air felt on your overworked skin. Cora was still hanging around after her shift, waiting for her husband to come pick her up. You sat on the back steps of The Lodge, watching the trees sway. 

“The air feels so crisp,” you muttered. 

“You say the weirdest things,” she grumbled, laughing. She was leaning against the building. “It’s the trees.” 

“I know.” You were going to leave right after work and finally drive back home but you needed a moment to sit and enjoy the day. It had been a long shift. Cora and you were officially trauma bonded. 

“How was the chief?” 

“Good,” you promised. “Sweet.”

“A guy can be sweet and catch criminals?” 

“He’s assertive,” you argued. When Cora laughed she did it with her whole chest. 

“Honey, you’re down bad.” You rolled your eyes and stood up. Cora’s eyes followed you as you did so, turning back to the door inside the diner. “You’re goin back into that hellhole?” 

“Forgot my phone,” you said. “Also, I am not. It’s a work crush. I’m entitled to one! Just like you like the produce guy!” 

“I do not like the produce guy. I think he’s hot. Big difference!” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door back inside. The heat hit you again, unpleasantly. You had to weave through the cooks to get back to the front. You couldn’t remember when you had put your phone down. You were making a phone call during your break. Maybe you had left it on hte steps outside after all? 

“Hey Jerry?!” you called to the cook in the back.

“What?!” 

“You seen my phone?” 

“No! All I’ve seen are burgers!” You rolled your eyes harder this time and dipped underneath the counter to see if you had put it with the sugars and stuff. You let out an annoyed groan when it wasn’t there. 

You turned too quick and ran right into the closing waitress. She was holding a hot pot of coffee and effectively spilled it all over you. You gasped involuntarily, the feeling of scorching coffee seeping through your clothes. The gasp turned into a seethe as you packed up. You could hear her speaking, the high pitched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” reverberating off your eardrums. You had dropped coffee on yourself before. All you could think of was that you needed a towel and some cold water. 

You turned on a dime and walked back to the kitchen. You turned on the sink back there and fumbled your hand around for a towel to use. 

“Jerry, towel,” you mumbled, the burning skin now setting into a tingle. He turned his head around and saw you. He started to fumble around. You walked in front of him to grab the towel and just barely lost your balance, causing your hand to fly up onto the table. 

Right onto the stove. 

This time you yelped. The coffee was already forgotten as there was now more of an issue at hand. 

“Woah dollface!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed your wrist because you were just staring at your red hand. You had put your entire palm down. You looked up at him, tears staining your eyes from pain, and he brought you over to the sink. 

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he put it under the cold water. It didn’t subside any pain, just added another sensation. “Jerry that hurts!” 

“Hey Y/N, I have your phone in my apron.” Cora came through the door to witness you breathing heavily next to the sink, Jerry the cook practically holding you down. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” he explained. 

“She spilled coffee on me,” you blubbered childishly. You could feel all your body parts at once, like you were on fire. You had no brain power to say anything else. 

“Oh Jesus,” Cora muttered. She rushed forward, grabbing your wrist to look at it. “You gotta get this checked out honey.” You gave her a somber looking face. “I know, I know. I’ll take you. Where’s your car keys?” You reached in your apron with your non burnt hand. It was soaking wet from the coffee. 

“Is she okay?” the waitress asked, sticking her head through the window. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” Jerry said. 

“She what?!” 

Cora put her hand on your back, leading you out the door. You took deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You were fine. You were gonna be fine. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “You have to g-”

“I’ll have Steven do it,” she said. Her husband. You gave her a look of pure thankfulness as she helped you into the passenger seat of her car. 

“I really don’t have to go to the hospital over this,” you tried to say. 

“I know you don’t. But I think it’s safer than waiting.” You put your head against your headrest. 

-

Cora dragged you by your free arm to the front desk. She was the one who gave your name and your information as you stood beside her, holding your hand. You looked like a mess, given the coffee all over you. You were sure this could all just be fixed by some water and ointment from the store but Cora insisted. 

She rambled on about how a family member hadn’t gone in for a burn and it ended up being more severe then they thought, damaging below the skin. Her words were not comforting. 

Eventually they called you back to be looked at. You sat on an exam table with a thin paper on top. A nurse had come in to check on you and give you something for your hand while you waited for the doctor. 

You were in a row of beds. Cora pulled the curtains aside to give you privacy. 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you said. 

“They don't get to know all your business. HIPAA or whatever.” You squinted. 

“I don’t think-” 

“Ladies.” Carlisle Cullen stepped through the curtain at the open side. He was holding a clipboard, a charming smile plastered on his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. “Y/N, I hear you burned your hand.” You nodded. 

“And her chest,” Cora muttered. She must have noticed Carlisle’s looks as well. Or maybe she just noticed your reaction to him. You cleared your throat. 

“I had coffee spilled on me.” 

“No, you should check it out. It’s bad.” You gave a look. Carlisle’s smile remained, shaking his head. You had heard of him but never had a reason to come out and see him. You wouldn’t even call this a valid reason. 

“Sounds like an awful case of bad luck.” You nodded. “Can I take a look?” He sat on a spinny chair and pulled it towards you. You extended your hand to him. 

“I’m gonna go call Steven,” she said to you. You nodded. She patted your back, her eyes lingering on your doctor even as she left. Carlisle held your hand in his, gently looking it over. You looked down at him. 

“A stove did this?” 

“Yeah. It was dumb,” you promised. “I lost my balance looking for a rag for the coffee burn.” 

“And that’s okay?” You nodded. 

“I think. I mean, my hand feels way worse,” you assured him. 

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.” 

“Cora’s dramatic by nature.” He laughed gently. 

“Well the stove fought back.” He wheeled backwards towards the table beside your bed. “It looks like second degree burns on your hand. I’ll send you home with some ointment for it and you’ll wanna wrap it up so that you don’t get it caught on your clothes or anything.” You nodded. “I’ll wrap it for you first, show you how to do it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He stood up and fumbled in the desks drawer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check on the coffee burns?” He glanced back at you. You looked down at your shirt. It had mostly gotten your stomach. You could still feel pain there, probably driven by the fact you never got to clean it off. 

“If you think it’ll help?”

“Stomach burns are interesting just because of their placement. It’s harder to wrap them. I think it would be beneficial for me to make sure they’re only first degree, if anything.” You nodded. You would listen to him read the phone book. 

“Okay.” He walked back over. Before even touching your shirt he made eye contact with you. 

“Only if you’re comfortable. I can wait till your friend comes back if you want me to.” You shook your head. 

“I’m okay!” you promised. You cleared your throat and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You carefully lifted it up over your torso, holding it just above the wet spot. Carlisle’s eyes went down to your body. 

“You said the hand hurt more?”

“By far.” 

“Can I touch you?” Please. You cleared your throat again. 

“Sure.” He put an icy hand on your hip, lightly brushing your burn with his thumb. 

“How much does that hurt? Scale one to ten?” 

“Five.” He applied more pressure. 

“Now?” 

“Seven. Your hands are really cold, which could be worsening the effects,” you joked. He chuckled, his lips turning up a bit. 

“Sorry about that.” He backed up a bit. You put your shirt back down. “Those are first degree burns. It only hit in some spots. Should feel numb or touchy for a couple days. You can put the ointment there too but you shouldn’t have to wrap it up.”

“The hand needs it.”

“The hand needs it,” he agreed. He had put some stuff on the counter, which he now took in his hands. He squeezed something out a bottle and put a bit of it on his finger, taking your hand back in his. “Let me know if the pressure is too much.” 

You watched him, your free hands fingers curled under the bed you were sitting on. He gently covered your hand, using such a light touch that it was like he was barely there. 

“You’re good at this.” 

“It’s my job,” he said, smiling. “Are you from out of town? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before.” 

“Just lucky,” you quipped. “I go to college in Seattle too so I’m usually out there.” He nodded slowly. 

“Fancy.”

“The drive back is beautiful.” He nodded slowly. His hand lingered on yours as he examined his work. “So is this town.” 

“Do you work at the diner?”

“Yeah! That’s where I got this beauty.” He scooted back, grabbing the bandages.

“I think my son’s seen you there. He’s graduating high school in a year and likes his seclusion,” he explained. 

“Son?” you asked. 

“Edward.” 

“No, I’m just stunned you have a child. You look far too young,” you said, laughing incredibly. He grinned sheepishly. You tried not to think of him being married or the lack of ring on his finger. 

“He’s technically my foster son,” he described. 

“I see. Do you do it all on your own?” You winced. That was aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head, completely cool. “Yes, they’re all under my care. I haven’t found the right one quite yet. Plus, she’d have to take on more than a couple stragglers with me.” His eyes flicked up to yours. They met for a moment longer than they should have. You had to look away. 

“Sounds like a task.” 

“It’s definitely not for everyone.” He tightened your bandage. “There. I’ll send you home with some of this, it’ll be sent to wherever you get your prescriptions.” He stepped back from you. “Try to be careful around stoves next time.”

“Yes sir.” He gave you one more look, a kind hearted smile and then was on his way. You followed him until he was gone out of view. You were glad he hadn’t checked your pulse because you were sure it was beating out of your chest. Cora came around the corner. 

“He’s too old for you too,” she said. You laughed dryly, shaking your head. You could practically still feel his touch on your hand. So gentle. 

“You’ll learn to get used to it,” you teased her. She rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?” 

“Wanted to give you and Doctor Dreamy some alone time.” 

“You’re such a wingwoman!” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Sheriff.” 

Part 2

[kenyummy]

Hi! I was going through your profile to read more of Spidey! Reader and I saw the ask of songs going for each character, and your comment about Reed and Spidey! Reader being parallels of Bruce and DC! Reader??

HELLO?? THATS SO COOL!!! I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR MORE IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER IDEAS

IF NOT ITS OKAY I WAS JUST CURIOUS!! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

HII IM SO HAPPY YOU ASKED ABOUT THIS ARGHHHH i have so much to say

ok so yes! reed and spidey r gonna parallel bruce and spidey (or more accurately bruce and dc!reader) very hard as in that's what he could've had, ykwim???

in chapter 5, reed acknowledges spidey's intellect and treats them as if they're equals. spidey appreciates this immensely, feeling good that the literal smartest man in the world sees them as such. this is their dynamic. reed sees spidey as an equal, yet as somebody who needs to be nurtured. you're a genius, creating most of your web shooters and technology from scratch, yet needing help on some of the technicalities, which he's happy to provide.

spidey comes to reed when they need help. spidey isn't afraid that he'll make them look dumb. that he'll believe its a waste of time because he cares. he genuinely cares about spidey, maybe even past that of a mentor, and wants to see them succeed so bad because he knows just how incredibly brilliant you are, and he's so, so proud.

from the first moment you'd met him, still an awkward kid getting the hang of your new powers, with braces and that hormonal teen acne, begging to be let on his team because otherwise, j. jonah jameson would actually eat you alive.

bypassing the highest level of baxter building security protocols with ease and using some kind of inorganic webbing that was unlike anything hed ever seen. ever since that day, reed knew you were absolutely incredible, and wishes you'd see yourself as such.

(basically, your science dad lol)

now, here comes the parallel with dc!reader. bruce was the complete opposite of reed. he'd never had the time to see dc!reader. always busy. with this new robin, this new criminal, this new "addition to the family", bruce never gave you the time of day because he just couldn't.

he'd never noticed the things you made, the grades you topped, the things you tinkered with. he'd never seen it and probably never would've if you'd never been shot. he never saw how smart you were, and it made you feel inadequate. like no matter how many things you did, how many gadgets you made or how incredible your inventions really were; you were invisible.

you'd never come to him for help. you used to try, all that time ago, but he'd say he was too busy. always too busy. never free enough to look your way, let alone help you calculate the density needed for web shooters.

(in the end, you'd never be able to make those webs. ...not in that universe, anyway).

but eventually, he sees it. he sees you (you as in spidey haha). when you pull away, he feels the tug and soon you're too far to catch up.

maybe it's when you reveal that you're spidey. maybe it's when you babysit franklin and reed comes to pick him up. maybe he sees you and reed and sue all walking together through a night-time science convention when he's on patrol.

it doesn't matter when, he just sees it, and his heart sinks. you would wrap your arms around your science dad™ after he'd help you with one thing or another, unaware of the lingering eyes following your every move.

... just how much had he missed, he wonders. he'd never seen you hug somebody that tightly since you were a little kid. ... but you're not anymore, are you? right. he'd... he'd almost forgotten.

he never wanted you in the vigilante life. never wanted you in danger. but it consumed his life. every waking moment. always busy, too busy, always too busy for you. but now, he sees you; latching onto this older man (perhaps a similar age to him, maybe younger) and grinning up at him like you'd done it a hundred times before.

... you'd never hugged him, had you?

especially these days. your eyes are colder than ever, touch even more so. you slinked around the manor like you wanted nobody to find you and you'd escape conversations as soon as you possibly could when somebody tried to speak with you. (that part hurt dick the most).

you're so different than he remembers. (though, how could he say that? the last thing he remembers is when his boy, his jason was still young too. the last few memories he wanted to block out forever. too bad that included you, too).

god forbid you accidentally call reed dad one day, then he'd be really pissed off. especially because you stopped calling him dad (or any variant of it) for some reason. really, it was because you'd switched places with his actual kid, and you never ended up seeing him as a father, so it came unconsciously. though, he didn't know this. for all he knew, you just... given up on his one day, for that man.

who seemed... all too glad to give you the acknowledgement you wanted.

all in all, you and reed represent a very important concept that the fantastic four are literally in this story to represent. what could've been. it stirs longing, guilt, and especially in this story, a kind of obsession of "making it all better".

you once looked up to bruce, your father, so dearly, preening when he gave you a sliver of his attention. doesn't every child? you'd go back to this one day, he's sure. this time, though, he'll spend as much time with you as you want. you can go to science conventions with him, as much as he has little interest in that type of thing.

he can help you now that he sees you, so just forget that man, okay? he'll always be your dad.

tysm for the ask my love im gen so happy i got to talk about this teehee

[skimmingmilk]

Well, I was reading your previous questions and I remember seeing something about The Ugly Duckling and why Tails doesn't like it. But what about La Muñeca Fea(The Ugly Doll)? It's a song by Cri Cri, a Mexican children's song singer. And the song is about an ugly doll who hides, is sad, dirty, and even broken, but a mouse tells her not to cry, because unlike those who abandoned her, there are many who love her, who care for her, and want her happy.

I know its a little dumb the situation, but let's pretend that language barriers don't exist for a moment.

It's not dumb at all! There are plenty of headcanons where the characters are multi-lingual, and since there are Sonic dubs in various languages, who's to say they wouldn't speak Spanish? (Or Mobius's Spanish-equivalent, lol). In fact, one of my headcanons is that Sonic and Tails are both pretty quick at picking up new languages - though Sonic moreso just because Tails ends up relying on his Miles Electric's translation features once he's built it. But as a little guy, he picked up on languages pretty quick!

Anyway, to answer your question: now, I really like the song La Muñeca Fea, it's very sweet <3 The problem with Tails and pretty much any children's media is that he wasn't exposed to it at the age where it would've made the most impact on him. His feelings in regards to children's stories or songs lack a sentimental lens, so he views them with a more critical eye.

The way I imagine how his childhood went, even once he was with Sonic, he really didn't come into contact with a lot of children's media. Not traditional lullabies or fairy tales or fables. I base a bit of this off of the AoStH episode "Sonically Ever After" where Tails didn't know any of the fairy tales because he'd never been exposed to them. It's the very last episode of the series, so in all the time Sonic had known Tails to that point (65 episodes), he'd never once told the kid a fairy tale. In Sonic's defense, most kids his age would be sick of and annoyed by "little kid stuff," understandably not understanding why they're important tools for child development, so didn't go out of his way to introduce Tails to children's songs or stories. Aside from the few books Tails gravitated to in libraries (which were all above the reading level of kids his age), his exposure to traditional children's media has been from about age 7 onward. And while he's still technically a child, he's not a child that really enjoys childish things or feels any sort of sentimentality to what most children would.

I say all this just to establish the framework for Tails's perspective here. I think he'd acknowledge La Muñeca Fea is a nice song with a good moral, but he'd probably think it's a bit boring and babyish xD Sonic played mostly rock songs when he was little, so his sentimental lullabies are more in that vein.

When he's an adult, his feelings on that will probably change, but as a kid that's trying his hardest to keep up with teenagers while saving the world on a regular basis? Yeah, he's pretty ambivalent to songs like that.

But I think it's a very fitting song for him and makes me tear up at the thought of a younger Tails getting to hear it and latching onto the story of the Ugly Doll <3 Thank you for asking about it and letting me get to turn this concept around in my brain! I love thinking about child development as it pertains to these characters.

[chilling-seavey]

Just One More Chance (eo31)

↳ Timeless: F1 Grid Masterlist

↳ Summary: The Great Depression hit France later than most countries but it's impact didn't feel any easier. Esteban is trying to keep his family from crumbling.

↳ Title Song: Just One More Chance by Bing Crosby (1931)

↳ Word Count: 1.1k

↳ A/N: Pretend all dialogue etc. in this is in French. I didn't want to make you all read poorly google-translated French so just pretend its, like, dubbed or something LOL

↳ Warnings: None.

November 1931

The stairs of the apartment complex creaked under Esteban’s feet as he ascended the staircase begrudgingly, his keys jittering in his trembling callused hands. He could hear the screaming and crying of children before he even reached the landing and he took a moment’s pause, leaning back against the wall. Shutting his eyes, his head rested against the drywall with a soft thud, muted by the fabric of his hat. 

It had been a few months of Esteban feeling as though life was slipping through his fingers. His stable finance job at one of the best banks in France, his well-off Paris apartment, his family wanting for nothing; everything was once so perfectly easy. Now, no matter how desperately he tried to cling onto any semblance of stability, structure, or familiarity, it was all disintegrating before his eyes. 

He heard of the Wall Street Crash over in the United States in the papers, but the French government assured its people that the ripple effects in Europe would be minimal. And, for the first little while, that was true. But as the 1930s progressed, the worthiness of the French franc decreased rapidly and French underwent its own crash in early 1931. Esteban was still trying to keep himself and his family from crashing with it.

After a moment to catch his breath in the stairwell, Esteban followed the noise of the children towards the door of his apartment. He unlocked it and stepped inside, taking off his hat and jacket. 

“Hello,” he called loudly over the shouting children.

“Papa!”

With his jacket hung on the rack by the door, Esteban crouched down just in time to welcome his six-year-old into his arms and he hoisted her up into the air, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “Oh, my love, how I missed you today.”

From his arms, she asked sweetly, “Did you have fun at work, Papa?”

Yvonne was the calm amongst his storm, a right little lady and incredibly grown up for her age. Although she was leaps and bounds ahead of her school friends, she was still a child and Esteban was set on keeping the stresses of reality away from her. 

“Yes,” he answered her calmly, setting her on her feet and he followed her farther into the noisy apartment, “it was fine.”

The living space was far more messy than usual with candles dotting the mantle and tables to be used after dark to save on electricity costs, kids’ toys strewn about the rug, and the dining table piled with newspapers and Yvonne’s primary school readings. Adjacent, in the kitchen, the woman of the house stood, trying to make supper with a wailing baby on her hip. Her hair was pulled back under a kerchief and her apron was well worn and stained, not unlike the dusting of flour over her flushed cheeks or between her furrowed brows. 

At her feet, two more little ones were bickering, shoving each other and screaming bloody murder, barely acknowledging their mother’s firm scoldings and her hand darting down to push them apart. Meanwhile, the youngest, on her hip and pulling at her blouse, was wailing, snot dripping down his face and his cheeks rouged with a fever. 

Yvonne, as if completely oblivious to the chaos, skipped into the kitchen with a cheery, “Papa’s home!”

His wife barely looked up as Esteban stepped forward to take the baby from her arms. The Irish twins around her legs, Hélène and Thérèse, were still hitting each other and screaming their lungs out. But, with her hands now free, the mother bent down and grabbed each toddler by the arm and physically yanked them apart and then shoved them towards the living room, “God Almighty, girls! Go play and leave each other alone! Mama is getting a headache.”

Like the good big sister she was, Yvonne herded her sisters into the living room to play mediator. Their mother went back to cooking, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and smearing more flour across her skin. 

Esteban took a step closer to her and kissed her cheek in greeting, resting a hand on the small of her back.

“Any luck?” she asked him flatly without looking up from the stove.

Esteban sighed, “No. No one is hiring still. I’ve even offered mechanic services for motorcars — and I can barely remember what my Papa had taught me as a boy — but no one can afford to pay for services.”

She scoffed haughty. 

“Claude—” he started, barely heard over the cries of the one-year-old in his arms.

“Michel’s fever has worsened,” Claudine stated, cutting him off. “And medication is still too bloody expensive.”

Esteban gently bounced the baby boy in his arms and looked down at his flushed face, lifting a hand up to rest against his forehead. He was burning. With a sigh, Esteban leaned in to press his lips to the baby’s temple as a futile way to soothe him.

Normally, it would have been no trouble to go out and purchase medication for the baby but since the economy had started to tank and the workers’ wages were severely cut, affording anything was nearly impossible. 

“We can give him another cool bath tonight,” Esteban suggested, “We still have some extra water left from the well.”

His wife huffed, threw the mixing spoon down, and looked at him, “We’re going to be living in the goddamn slums at this rate, Esteban, where the only water we’ll have is from the well.”

He looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath, “We won’t. I’m trying everything in my power to—”

“We could barely make rent this month,” she reminded him sharply, “We’re living by candlelight like it’s the goddamn 19th century, we can no longer afford to send Yvonne to school or the girls to nursery, we’re surviving on bread and beans. This is not living!” 

He swallowed back his pride and clutched the crying baby in his arms, his voice wavering as he strung together some semblance of a reply, “I didn’t ask for this, Claude. All of France is suffering, it’s not just us. I’m out there twelve hours a day looking for work, protesting, wearing holes in the bottom of my shoes for this family. I don’t know what else I can do.”

Esteban had known what he was stepping into when he married a woman of higher social standing than he. She swore she loved him, that the money meant nothing—and for a time, he believed her. But when the Depression crept through France, swallowing businesses and livelihoods, their carefully built life began to crumble. His once-secure job vanished, their elegant three-bedroom Paris apartment felt more like a burden than a home, and the cracks in their marriage widened with every bill. Desperation has a way of revealing the truth, and Esteban couldn’t shake the question—had she ever truly loved him enough to stay when there was nothing left to lose?

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[louisisalarrie]

honestly you have to shake your head at these naive people. The TikTok shows the kids face unaltered. Some Freddie accounts froze the frame and he looks identical to how his brother looked at that age. But that’s the whole key to this farce, the Freddie’s don’t know what Austin looked like at 9/10 even though T has it up so you can do a side by side.

I’ve had some serious bbg feelings and thoughts clearly bubbling to the surface because this turned into a longer one than I thought. Anon, welcome to the show!

It’s just such a lack of critical thinking. But it’s also, like all these stunts, a massive thing of trust with the fan to artist relationship. Fans don’t want to be lied to. They don’t want to believe that their idol is lying to them, they don’t want to believe that the industry is capable of such stunts, and they don’t want to believe question this all because my god it is so much easier just believing everything you’re fed.

There’s also this weird toxic superiority complex that happens within this fandom, where all these solos/people who believe F is his son, believe they are better fans and that that is going to make louis like them more (which is lol). That Larries aren’t real fans because they “disrespect Louis’ family”. And let me tell you - when this all comes out, or any other scandal/stunt happens, Larries are gonna be the ones who stick around. We always have been. The most devoted and kind and loving fans are larries, and I’ve seen that for the last fucking 13 or so years.

Larries, these days at least, don’t gift louis presents related to Larry, we dont ask directly, we don’t push those boundaries because we understand privacy. Giving gifts to him for “his son” and making Instagram accounts for said child, who is still very much a minor, is creepy as fuck. If louis was posting this kid all the time, or was actually being a “super dad” (which like… if you believe louis’ a dad, he sure as hell ain’t a very good one and we’ve discussed that before with those folks just fucking celebrating the bare minimum) and was just… like.. had this kid on Insta all the time and was very loud and every day we’d have content of him, sure. Maybe it’d be a little less weird because he’d be plastering this kid’s face everywhere and making it 100% known. BUT if you believe he’s a dad, you should respect privacy, because louis is a private person, etc. and anyway they contradict themselves every second of every day and it’s extremely amusing, yet sad, to watch.

The narrative of who they’ve decided louis is, strays far from the 1d days. They just entirely don’t acknowledge what he was like back then, what he and Harry were like back then, the radical shift of him being a party boy, BLATANT evidence of stunts and that pregnancy being fake, and just roll with who he is now. And that just doesn’t make sense to me. Harries do it too. They choose what part of their idol exists, what part of their idol’s life matters, and disregard all the stuff those dudes said years ago about privacy and family values and what they wanted for their future and who they are, and were, and wanted to become.

It just also baffles me that they think F is his son because he kinda looks like him. Well… you’re hiring a kid for a closeted artist who’s pretending to be related, you’re not exactly gonna choose a kid who’s gonna look massively different, right? They’re gonna look at the parents and siblings baby photos and go “yes, we could work with this, they look similar”. It’s not rocket science.

And that kid does look soooooo much like his actual blood parents and sibling that it’s indisputable. But no, we get these random DNA family experts or whatever who decide he’s definitely louis’ because clearly everyone’s a professional these days. They ignore the facts and the photoshopping and everything that has come out over the last 9 years to keep up with their narrative.

Also, you simply cannot convince me that kid’s real name is “Freddie Reign”. Louis could sit me down and tell me himself and I wouldn’t believe him. He “named” him that to take the piss out of the whole thing, and prove it’s fake.

[shadow-company-phoenix]

Phoenix + Barrage Teen AU

Oh man. I actually cranked this out.

I genuinely loved writing this and I hope that you guys like it too. If anyone with any ask blogs want to be put in (in any kind of way) then send me a message or an ask! I love all of you and will definitely add more people (whether they message me or not LOL)

...this may or may not be 1.9k words. It also isn't beta read so there are probably mistakes LOL. Don't mind me. I'm just a little guy

“This is stupid.”

That was the first thing that Phoenix said the whole car ride. He couldn’t believe it. Who in their right mind would choose him? He was loud and rude, not to mention one of the older kids.

If fifteen was considered old, anyway. In his mind it was, because the older kids didn’t get adopted. They were taken from foster house to foster house until they aged out of the program. That’s what Phoenix had expected to do, already mentally preparing for it.

“You may think that now, but they’re good people. They foster a lot for us, and we’ve never had a complaint about them, even from the rowdier ones,” Phoenix’s case worker, Emily, said from the driver's seat. She had insisted on driving him, getting him a milkshake and something to eat on their way over.

He liked her well enough. She was nice, sure, but she had so much…hope for him. Hope that he couldn’t see himself, that made him feel sick if he thought about it for too long.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, looking out the window.

Phoenix hadn’t realized that he was falling asleep until the car stopped and Emily was gently shaking his shoulder. He jerked awake, sitting up straight again, and blinked rapidly. “We’re here,” Emily said.

Phoenix didn’t say anything, just unbuckling himself and getting out of the car. He went around to the trunk and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. That backpack had everything that could possibly matter to him, and he would be damned if he left it in Emily’s trunk.

For just a second, he stared at the house in front of him. It was simple, but bigger than anything Phoenix had ever been in before. Two stories tall with a nice looking porch and a well tended yard. He was hesitant to go in, to do more than just stand by Emily’s trunk, but then she was next to him and ushering him away from the car.

She guided him up the porch and knocked on the door. Phoenix barely had time to shuffle behind her and prepare himself before someone was opening the door.

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice said, full of warmth. 

Phoenix picked up on the southern accent, which really shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d been living in Texas for almost two years now, and yet it still surprised him whenever he heard anyone other than Emily speak.

“Hi, Mr. Graves. I’m Emily. We spoke over the phone?”

The man hummed in acknowledgement and smiled. “Ah, of course! Ms. Simmons, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person. Please, come on in. Let me get you something to eat or drink.”

Emily just laughed softly and shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Graves, but I do have to be getting back soon. I just thought I’d see a certain someone off for the last time.” She stepped to the side, exposing Phoenix.

It won’t be the last time, Phoenix thought to himself. It was never the last time. There would never be a last time. Not in the way that she was thinking, at least.

“Of course, of course. You must be—”

“Phoenix,” he interrupted, not wanting to hear the name that was on his birth certificate.

The man raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Phoenix. Right then. I’m Phillip Graves, but just Phillip or Phil works fine,” he said kindly.

Phoenix stared at him, unspeaking. He scrutinized every detail, every small mannerism about the man in front of him.

“He doesn’t talk much around new people,” Emily explained, resting her hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. “Oh, and he doesn’t really let people touch him. I’m surprised he lets me do it, really.”

“‘Course. Tha’s jus’ fine, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout. How's about you head inside and meet everyone else,” Phillip said, still smiling.

Phoenix stared at him for a second before looking over at Emily. She just smiled and turned to him. “It’s alright, Phoenix. How about a hug before you go? I just have to tell Mr. Graves a couple things before I get going,” she said sweetly.

Normally, Phoenix would just refuse since he’d be seeing her again in a month, maximum, but there was something in her eyes that told him he should do it. So, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. Emily let out a small laugh and squeezed him back before letting go.

“You’re gonna do great, Phoenix. Remember, you can call me anytime.”

Phoenix looked up at her and nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice scratchy. He could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes, but brushed it off as a trick of the light.

Phillip moved to the side, letting Phoenix step inside the house. He looked around in awe, unused to such…nicety. Still, he kept his guard up. This could all be a facade, something to give him false hope.

He walked down the main hall slowly, keeping one hand on the pocket knife in his back pocket and the other on his backpack strap. He looked at pictures that lined the walls, stopping to look down at one that rested on a nightstand next to the doorway that led to the rest of the house.

Hesitantly, Phoenix picked it up and looked at it. It was a wide shot of Phillip and a bunch of different people that Phoenix couldn’t even pretend to know. Phillip had his arms wrapped around a man with a cane and someone else with a surgical mask and sunglasses that covered his face. They all looked…happy.

Phoenix gently put the picture down, not knowing what to think of so much happiness being in the palm of his hand, and continued past the doorway.

The living room had a warm and cozy sort of feeling to it that Phoenix couldn’t explain. There were pillows and blankets on the couch, a mug on the coffee table and some random show playing on the TV. Phoenix stared at it for a while, silently becoming transfixed with characters that he didn’t even know the names of.

“Phil say if he was coming in soon?” a man’s voice asked from behind him.

Phoenix jumped and whipped around, taking a few steps back. The man was the same one from the picture, the one with the cane. He had it with him now, using it to walk over to the couch where he sat down.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean ‘t scare you. You can call me Scott. Or Leggy. I’m Phil’s husband,” the man said.

“‘Leggy?’” Phoenix questioned.

“Yup. Got my knees fucked up after an accident, hence the cane. Some dumbass coined the nickname and, well. I liked it well enough to keep using it.”

Phoenix just blinked and nodded once.

“I’m gonna assume that you’re—”

“Phoenix,” Phillip said, walking through the threshold and into the living room. “I see that you’ve met my husband.” He walked over to Leggy and leaned over the couch, pressing a kiss to Leggy’s forehead. Phoenix curled his lip at the open display of affection, but he didn’t say anything.

“Was just tellin’ the kid ‘bout my nickname,” Leggy said, moving his cane so that it rested against the arm of the couch.

Phillip just shook his head with a chuckle. “Is Cedric around?”

“Said he had something that he was working on and went up to his room. I didn’t ask many questions, just told him to be down for dinner,” Leggy responded.

“...who’s Cedric?” Phoenix asked.

Both pairs of eyes snapped over to him, and Phoenix shrunk slightly under their gaze. What could he say? They were intimidating.

“He’s another kid we adopted. One that still lives at the house, at least,” Phillip explained, his gaze soft as he looked at Phoenix.

“Oh,” was all Phoenix responded with.

“You can head up to your room if you’d like. It’s the first one on the left upstairs. Dinner’s around seven. We’ll call you down,” Leggy said.

Phoenix nodded and turned away from them, only looking back for a half second before going to the stairs and climbing them. He looked down the upstairs hall. There were two doors on the left, one all the way down, and three to the right. The only ones open were the first one on the left, which was supposedly his room, and the one all the way down, which seemed to be a bathroom.

The first door on the right had a sigh that said “BARRAGE” on it. Phoenix tilted his head but didn’t say anything, instead going into the first room on the left.

He was shocked to find a boy hunched over a desk in the corner of the room, seemingly doing something. The sight of him set Phoenix on edge, but he didn’t make a move to fight or run. Yet. He was very close.

“Hello?”

The boy jumped and whipped his head around to look at Phoenix. He had scars down his face and his nose was a little crooked.

“Fuck—I mean—shit—” The boy stumbled over his words, a hand held over his heart. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“...you’re in my room.”

The boy looked at Phoenix curiously before nodding. “Yeah. Was just making sure that e’rything was where it’s s’posed to be.”

Phoenix nodded slowly and the two just stared at each other for a second before the boy cleared his throat and held a hand out. “I’m Cedric.”

For a second, Phoenix looked at his outstretched hand before eventually taking it. “Phoenix,” he responded. Cedric nodded and pulled his hand back, stuffing it in his pocket. “So, you’re also…”

“Adopted? Yeah. Pops pretty much picked me up off the side of the road and brought me back here,” Cedric answered coolly.

Phoenix nodded slowly. “Are they…should I…”

Cedric shook his head vehemently. “No, absolutely not. Dad and Pops are the best you can get, trust me. Ain’t nothin’ t’ be afraid of with ‘em. Except maybe the after dinner talk, but that’s just rules ‘nd shit. Nothin’ like what you’re thinkin’.”

They stared at each other again before Cedric looked past him and to the door. “Well, I’m gonna head back to my room. If you need anything, I’m just across the hall.”

As he walked past, Phoenix turned and asked, “‘Barrage?’”

Cedric stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at him. “What?”

“It uhm. Your door says Barrage. Why?”

“Oh, that.” Cedric chuckled and shook his head. “Just a nickname ‘s all.” And with that, he was gone, the door to Phoenix’s room closed behind him.

Phoenix stopped and stared at the door before shrugging off his backpack. He tucked it between the bed and the desk, only opening it to grab a silver coin out of the smallest pocket and holding it tightly in the palm of his hand. He kicked off his worn down shoes, tucked his pocket knife under his pillow, and climbed into the bed, trying to wrap his head around everything that was happening.

Just yesterday he was sleeping on an uncomfortable cot with a couple other kids in a room, and now he had his own room with a real bed and comfortable blankets and pillows. He looked down at the coin, running his thumb over the edge, and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep, he couldn’t, but he could pretend. Even if just for a little while.

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Propaganda why Bella Swan is insufferable:

Feels like low hanging fruit, but characters that are supposed to be self inserts will always be bland boring bad ideas if you want to make a truly interesting character. Especially self inserts that go along with things like stalking and abuse from their love interests for the sake of continuing the story, because it kinda makes them seem like a mannequin who just there to be passed around like the punching bag in super smash bros, you know what I mean

complete bland character that all the boys somehow fall in love with. just gets pushed around by the plot. she's interesting as cardboard while everyone around her is more interesting.

She spends the entirety of three books looking down on others, being completely braindead, worrying that she's old at age 18 for an entire book, has a horror movie pregnancyand birth, and then becomes the most specialist vampire to ever vampire. And through all that her personality and thought processes that she had page 1 of Twilight she has on the last page of Breaking Dawn.

She has the personality of a rock, but for some reason everyone is obsessed with her.

Propaganda why Tony Stark is insufferable:

She’s a hypocrite who is ready to restrict the freedom of others when they make one mistake, but when he makes a mistake he figures he’s able to handle himself

Super long, sorry lol

Thinking about how in Homecoming when Peter accidentally caused that boat to get split in half because the Vulture’s gun exploded and Tony was acting like as if Peter was completely in the wrong for going there just because he did it without his permission. He was acting like as if Peter was out of line and “disobeyed him”, trying to act like his father. And then I remember how in CACW he’s the one who scouted Peter in the first place just because he saw he might be useful against a personal squabble between him and Captain America despite knowing that he was a kid and he’s just now acknowledging how dangerous it is because Peter “acted on his own”

Completely hijacking Peter’s superhero story and trying to control his every move (Training wheels protocol and baby monitor thing he put in the suit), acting like Peter should’ve known that Tony would send someone in despite the fact that he’d been ignoring him for 2 months since Civil War and not keeping him updated on anything!!

How the hell is peter supposed to know Tony is going to listen to him when he treats him like a kid instead of a superhero when it’s convenient for him? And when Tony loses his temper after Peter says he’s 15 not 14 like “the adult is talking” bitch he could literally flatten you without your suit!!!

I guess in a way he is acting like a father but like the absentee kind. He’s more like a sperm donor father trying to act like he has any rights over Peter’s life smh.

It’s not that reprimanding Peter for the situation is bad, but the way he makes it seem as if Peter is irredeemable as if Tony wasn't a literal weapons dealer lmfao. He could’ve said what was the truth about it without completely invalidating him saying shit like “no thanks to you” after Peter asked if everyone is okay when it’s literally thanks to Peter finding a lead on those guys in the first place that they were even noticed and it’s not like the FBI being there could’ve in no way caused a similar situation.

And then near the end of the movie when he’s getting crushed by the building rubble screaming and crying for someone to help him where the fuck is Tony?? That scene just proved that he never needed Tony’s suit in the first place to be Spider-Man since he had to use 100% his own strength to lift it off of him. I know he would’ve found the motivation even if Tony hadn’t been involved in the first place to give him the suit, take it away from him and have the words “if you’re nothing without the suit you shouldn’t have it“ echo in his head. Why did Tony even take the suit away? Like as if he expects Peter to stop being spoderman without it??? Holy fuck. This is why you don’t make it out of endgame /j /srs.

When Tony took this suit away from Peter he was like “God I sound like my dad“ shouldn’t that be a red flag to him? Wasn’t he literally just saying that he wished his dad was better than he was?? Lmfao

Tony is so annoying. When they first meet he straight up bullies Peter into fighting for his personal bullshit, insults and objectifies Aunt May in front of him, spits into his trashcan and is in general being pushy af. He blackmails Peter when he doesn’t wanna come to Germany with him AND HE DOESNT EVEN EXPLAIN WHY HE WANTS HIM TO COME. Uncomfortable vibes lol.

Tony being the one to tell peter “if Captain America wanted to hurt you he would’ve” when Peter was trying to state his case, yet HE’S also the one who put Peter in harms way when he didn’t even want to go with him???

Telling Peter that he should stick to being a “friendly neighborhood Spider-Man” (stealing his thing once again) when that’s what Peter _was_ doing before Tony took him out of his zone and filled his head with grander things to be apart of….bitch? Die. Ohh waaaait (jkjk) but yeah

There’s the usual “he’s a war criminal who only felt bad about it when he realized his weapons were killing white Americans as well as Arab people” reason, and also he’s just super annoying. You had to be there for the original Avengers shitty dialogue a la “we have a Hulk” that had Tumblr in a vicious chokehold. Also he was supposed to FINALLY go away after destroying all his suits in Iron Man 3 but he just… didn’t! Which is bullshit.

Portrayed as a hero because? He chose to no longer mass produce war weapons and bombs after suffering the consequences. Huge hypocrite. Doesn't care about anyone but himself. Will backstab people if they believe in human rights when it's inconvenient to him. Seen as a hero while he's the personification of privileged people saying they're not privileged

>Makes weapons

>Billionaire

>Made multiple AI Surveillance Robots

>Gaslight a child into fighting a super soldier in a foreign country for him

>His fans are annoying

[littleplasticrat]

Writer Interview Tag

I'm grateful to have been tagged by @tellmeallaboutit, @my-favourite-zhent and @beesht. Sorry it took so long for me to get around to. Honestly I am blown away that anyone would put me in a 'writer' bucket with the other word crabs

Tellmeallaboutit's interview

My-favourite-zhent's interview

Beesht's interview

My answers below the cut for some NSFW discussion

When did you start writing?

The most recent bout of writing started in December 2023 and was prompted by being insatiably horny for Gortash. This is the first time I've written fanfiction.

I wrote a short novel from 2012-2013 and would put that in the fantasy YA category about a magician who falls in love with a phoenix.

As a kid, I wrote a lot, up until around the age of 16 or so when I realised that I didn't want to live the life of a struggling artist and so set my sights on getting work with more consistent pay than writing books.

I actually do quite a lot of writing for my current job. It's industry-specific instructional writing but I feel that some of the meta-skills are applicable between the two genres.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really only read horror short fiction recreationally, and I've only written one horror story - which I found super challenging and wouldn't really want to tackle again. Luckily, I'm able to excise the horrors by running TTRPG games and thus don't have to deal with the difficult challenge of making something sound scary.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I haven't been compared to any writers - I simply haven't written enough stuff that isn't solid filth XD

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Up until I moved house last week, I had a dedicated home office with a large drawing tablet and my mother's boarding school desk from the 1960s. Until I can get an office set up in the guest bedroom of the new house (I'm in no rush), I'm on my laptop at the dining table downstairs or a local cafe.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I try to preach that a hobby should be treated like self-care and so not be a source of stress, but I have the heart of a procrastinator and the bones of a perfectionist; if I waited for the muse to strike me with creative stuff, I wouldn't get anything done.

So, if I'm feeling wigged out about life, I'm not going to force anything, but otherwise I have a 'smash it out' approach of breaking down the work as much as possible and going from there. Any writing I do therefore starts life as a series of bullet points of what exactly I want to happen and in what order, and I build out methodically from there.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

The thrill of fancying someone a lot? Horniness? Butt stuff? LOL

What is your reason for writing?

I want to be the freak I want to see in the world.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any comment I get is like JAZZ HANDS. Seriously! It's so flattering to have someone slow down and look at my stuff, let alone acknowledge it.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I once read a shitty horror novel where the villain was able to destroy the protagonist's life, because she'd read all his books and so knew him. That rattled me so hard! There's no way I'm skillful enough to develop an authorial voice that isn't my own. So, like, don't think about what my disgusting fanfics say about who I am as a person please [jk]

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I'd say the action is pretty clear, and I can crack a joke at the right time. What more could a reader ask for?

How do you feel about your own writing?

I would like there to be more of it but my art will take priority for now <3

I think most people I know write on here have already been tagged several times, so I shall not tag further.

[lookingforhappy]

Same anon as before (name anon I guess, lol) Lila calls out for Coco in the first scene we have her in (around 10:35) and now that I watch it again (I wanted to see if there's more kids than the twins in that car) Coco might actually be the son. Lila goes "You need to share with your brother. Coco, stop crying!" The little girl in the scene isnt really crying, meanwhile the boy is reaching out and looks more upset. I did not mean to follow up on the last ask but, here you go! Interesting thing I just noticed that I wouldn't have posted about myself cause fandom scares me!

Also no, I totally agree with you on the names. It felt like the writers really didnt care about any of them. I was pointing out that we have the mothers names as a thing of "they named all the mothers yet here we have unnamed son."

oh sorry! yea thats where im standing rn lol like you go to the effort of naming 6/7 mothers who appear for maybe 3 seconds each but not the main character's children??

i went back and found the scene

and yeah it does seem that coco is the boy's name as there's not anyone else in the car

(nobody in the front, only the twins in the middle behind the balloons, and the pinata in the back seat, i guess grace arrived with her grandparents or maybe Diego??)

but he's also not ... at all upset

he's just reaching?? i guess they couldnt or didnt want to make the kid cry..

but like.. i hate that actually. If you're gonna go to the effort of giving one kid a tribute name (grace stanley), which is notoriously not liked by fandom (im thinking the disaster that was the epilogue of HP) then at least go the full mile and give the other kids tribute names as well?

like ik Lila's family is alive now but we never acknowledged that she wasn't raised by them beyond age 4, and that she witnessed their deaths and loved them and carried their memory into her adulthood and was devastated to learn that they had been targetted not just randomly killed

like.. for them to be randomly alive now doesnt make their relationship automatically good, they're strangers now whether they like it or not.

so i don't see why Anita and Ronnie couldn't have had kids named after them. lots of people do that for their very much alive parents as well?

or even just name the boy twin Ben?? umbrella Ben is 100% dead. double dead even. maybe even triple dead.

and isn't Coco from the spanish name Socorro? which is female??

just. i feel like this was underthought and bad.

[hewantshisbrideback]

Modern AU Jonrya + Divorced!RhaeLya Snippet

Test-running this the same way I did NHAT's first chapter! Keep in mind, this is not specifically RhaeLya or anti-RhaeLya. That said, Rhaegar, by virtue of being raised as more of a 'boy prince' than actual prince, has a characterization you may not agree with! But I don't care, it's my fic lol. Not a lot happens in this first snippet, it's more to establish the home-life Jon is coming from, the dynamic between Rhaegar and Lyanna, and because I find writing from this perspective funny. There is not a lot of Jonrya and only the set up for conflict. Enjoy! Please, tell me what you think.

It’s an age-old story. A real crowd favorite. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy sings a sad song. Girl cries. Boy gives her roses. Girl looks pretty with flowers in her hair. A classic love story, one for the books.

Things may have progressed a little quickly after. But, still, nothing truly out of the ordinary. Girl got pregnant. Boy proposed. Well… Boy had to get a divorce first. But it was a quick divorce.

Sure, maybe after the shotgun wedding, Boy and Girl had to hide out in the desert for a while, disappeared from the public without telling anyone where they went, resulting in a media-fuelled frenzy, a nation-wide search party involving everyone from paparazzi to armed police to private investigators…

Maybe her family had publicly accused him of kidnapping before the dust had settled. Acquitted of all charges, both in the legal court and that of public opinion.

Still, when Rhaegar looks back at how he and Lyanna first met, first fell in love, it really did feel that simple, that… uncomplicated, at the time. The politics, their respective family drama, the music scene and the industry bullshit, the age gap that was only a little less scandalous at the time…

He hadn’t cared about that. Neither had magazines, or newspapers. If anything, they’d eaten it all up. It only made them more sympathetic. For the most part. According to all the important publications, anyway.

Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen had been... the love story to end all love stories. Had been, as in, weren’t anymore, because, as anyone could tell you, they hadn’t been married for, say, like… a decade now? Somewhere between a decade, and thirteen years, four months, and twenty-one days.

And yet, it still smarts to think about it. Better not to, if he can help it.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing in the great, empty expanse of fucking woods he’s staring down to distract him. Why does Lyanna live out here again? Shouldn’t someone running a non-profit live somewhere with actual people around, in need of help?

Frankly, he never understood why they divorced in the first place. But I respected her wishes. Because I loved her.

Obviously. He wouldn’t be leaning against his car, waiting for his son to finally emerge from his aloof (second) ex-wife’s cabin in the woods if that wasn’t the case, all so he could spend a weekend enjoying the kid’s brooding company, pointedly not asking questions about how his mother was and what she was doing in her spare time when she wasn’t too busy saving the world and ignoring his calls.

Rhaegar taps his foot. Crosses his arms. Checks his hair in the passenger window. Uncrosses his arms. Checks his phone, again. Nothing. He texted Jon about his arrival three minutes ago.

Maybe, sometimes their conversation verged into discussion-of-Mom territory. But there was only so much for him and Jon to talk about. The kid was almost sixteen, permanently unimpressed with him, and he made no secret of the resentment he felt for him.

Rhaegar wanted to connect, he did, but he also had to acknowledge certain limitations to his position. The one thing they both shared was Lyanna. It made sense to fall back to common ground in lieu of any other options.

And he’s curious. Sue him. The woman is a bank vault when it comes to her personal life. Always was. Just ask the press. They'd tell you.

Rhaegar checks his phone. Four minutes. He thinks he can get away with ringing the doorbell. There’s literally ice on the ground. Even his openly embittered son doesn’t actually want him to freeze to death.

Well, he assumes. But the void of interest in Jon’s gaze as he opens the door and claps eyes on him might make him reconsider.

“Hey, champ.” Rhaegar forces out, and pretends like he isn’t internally grimacing at his own words. “Uh, I texted, but…”

Jon nods, already turning around, walking away and leaving the screen door to drift shut on his father. “I know.”

Rhaegar wedges a foot in before the heavy screen can shut him out completely, then shifts awkwardly in the doorway, propping it open. “You ready to head out?”

“Almost.”

He takes that as an invitation to step inside. Jon’s disappeared into a door beyond the stairs - the den, or the dining room? It’s been a while since Rhaegar got to really see the place. He’s never gotten an actual tour, technically, has maybe been in the kitchen twice, ever, let alone the rest of the place. Technically, it's a converted ranger station from back when the family held private ownership over the woods. For all he knows, it's an armory back there.

He glances around surreptitiously for a second, wondering if he has enough time to poke his head around - innocently, of course - only for Lyanna to skid into view before he can even move past the wet room. His pulse quickens, but before he can pull out a greeting as equally as cringeworthy as the first, she interrupts.

“Oh, good. You’re here. I’m heading out then.” She pushes an earring in with lethal precision and force, not even sparing a glance at the conveniently-placed hall mirror, calling back into the house, “Jon? I’m heading out! Did you hear me?”

Rhaegar almost has a heart attack when Jon pops his head in from the nearest room - he could’ve sworn the only way to the back was through the main hall, last time he was here - with a furrowed brow and a playful scowl on display. “Yeah, I’m right here. You don’t need to yell.”

Lyanna is doing her eyeliner, but she pauses to raise her own brows at him in warning. “Sometimes I think you could do with me yelling at you more, actually.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is that even possible?”

She smacks her hairbrush in his general direction in response, a fruitless gesture so familiar to Rhaegar it hurts. “Would you get out of here? With your… teenage… attitude? Ugh.” She fixes her lipstick then shoves her tools in her purse.

“Brutal, mom. Do you have my charger?”

“Our charger,” she insists. “It’s in the den. Go watch some dumb, scary movie, would you? Have a good time with your dad. And get out of my hair!”

Jon gives her a brisk salute as she hurries past.

“We will! Uh, have a good time,” Rhaegar assures her, but his eyes get caught on her cocktail dress, as she scoots past him, adjusts the skirt, and grabs her coat. “Where are you off to? Didn’t think you were even allowed to leave the woods.”

She gives him a slightly withering glance, then shrugs, smiles. “I have a thing.” By now Jon has joined them in the wet room, and she turns to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Lock up when you leave. I’ll see you two later.”

“Gross.” Jon waves from the door as she sidesteps the ice in her heels on her way to her truck. “Bye, mom. Be safe!”

“No worrying, kiddo! Have fun.”

“I know. But still.”

“Thanks, honey,” she clambers into the truck, blows a big, fat kiss from the window, intentionally over-the-top. “Mwah.”

Rhaegar follows her out, takes advantage of her patting around the front seat to plug her phone in. “Seriously, we never talk anymore. What’s the big occasion?”

She gives him a look he decides is indecipherable, then sighs. “Just meeting up with old friends of the family.” She finds the right chord to plug in her phone, then shoos him away from the window. “Okay. Really, this time - I’ll see you guys later.”

By the time she’s pulled out, and he’s shaken himself from his suspicious stupor, Jon is joining him out in the driveway. He shakes his head, then turns and gives him a fond, knowing look. “Where is she actually going?”

Jon, shrugging and hiking his backpack up his shoulder, returns the knowing look, if... decidedly less fond. “Some kind of double date.”

“What?” Rhaegar scoffs. “With who?”

“Uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn.”

Interesting, but irrelevant. “No, who is she going with?”

“I don’t know. One of the Baratheons.” Jon is walking toward the car at this point.

“Shit!” Rhaegar jolts to follow, stops and curses as he almost slips on the ice, resumes his path with more caution. “Shit. Which one?”

“I don’t remember,” Jon says, popping open the trunk. He throws his luggage in the back.

Rhaegar rubs the back of his neck, exhaling a little in relief at just making it to the car without face-planting. “It can’t be Robert, is it? That’s insane.”

Jon pauses getting into the passenger seat to slip his backpack off his shoulder and spare his father a faintly exasperated look. “Dad…”

“Look, I - I know your uncle and him are friends, I’m sure he’s… fine, but… your mom hates him,” he rushes to clarify. Jon rolls his eyes and gets in the car, and Rhaegar scrambles to follow suit. “She always has.”

“I mean, it’s really none of your business.”

“Right, but… Right. I’m not saying she can’t. I’m just saying it would be stupid, and I hope your uncle hasn’t convinced her to give him another chance, when -”

“Are we going?” Jon interrupts, then sinks into his seat with a strange expression. “Arya and I have been waiting to see this for ages.”

“Uh…” Rhaegar blinks. Thinks. Starts to dig out his keys. “Yeah, we can go…” He starts the engine, but doesn’t take it out of park. “Just, let the engine warm up… How is Arya doing, lately, by the way? She wants to see this film?”

“Yeah,” Jon answers, slouching in his seat. “Has wanted to, for a while, now.”

“How’s she doing? You get to see her much, now she’s getting older?”

Jon turns to pretend to look at something out the window. Rhaegar knows he’s pretending. He was staring at the same goddamn woods waiting for a text for four minutes, so. “Not as much.”

Rhaegar takes this as an opportunity to change the address on his phone. “Is she busy tonight?”

“No.” No uncertainty. Not even a pause.

“You want to invite her along?”

“Seriously?” 

“Why not?” Rhaegar starts backing out of the driveway. “She’s allowed to watch scary movies, right?”

“Yeah, we watch them all the time.” Good. It was a fifty-fifty bet, considering what Catelyn and Ned are respectively like as parents.

“Why don’t you text her? We’re early anyway. We can start heading down that way, and if she says no, we’ll just… You know. Course-correct.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll text her.”

“Good. Great. We’ll just… head for your uncle Ned’s.”

And if they happened to run into Lyanna when they got there, well... that's a non-issue.

❦

Thanks so much for reading! Hope it piqued your interest, even though there wasn't a ton of Jonrya right away. It's partly written but not enough to share for feedback. I'm curious to get feedback on the Rhaegar and Lyanna dynamic - I know the characters have huge fans and huge antis and frankly I'm half curious and half worried as to how either party will be reacting to the situation, lol! Anyway, thanks again.

[ohem1111]

no one acknowledged roslyn’s birthday, not even her mother, the one who gave birth to her on that very day all those years ago.

during eden’s little 4am trip downstairs for something to satisfy her pregnancy craving she notices roslyn sleeping outside. in that moment she is furious, storms out and wakes her up.

eden: “roslyn ivy elmore what do you think you are doing out side at this hour, and sleeping even, you are going to get sick and i can’t have that around me right now”

roslyn: “mom, i-”

eden: “get to your room i don’t want to hear it”

roslyn: “no mom, you will hear it, whether you listen or not, you will hear me. you wanna know why i’m out here? aside from the fact that i literally sit out here to watch the sunrise every morning, not that you’ve ever cared or noticed.”

eden: “roslyn don’t y-”

roslyn: “mom i am out here right now instead of in my own bed is because i’m letting bram sleep there. because guess what, you never bought him a new bed that he can actually sleep in.” eden’s face instantly realizes how greatly she has been neglecting her own children lately.

roslyn: “maybe if you’d take a break from popping out kids, you would be able to pay attention to the ones you already have. and you don’t have to keep pretending we don’t know mom. we know you are pregnant again right now.”

eden: “ros… i don’t know what to say”

roslyn: “you could try ‘happy birthday’ but you’d be approximately 4 hours and 53 minutes to late for that to still be accurate.”

eden: “we were waiting for the right time to tell you.”

roslyn: “right time to tell me what?! that you are pregnant? why do you think i care that much, it’s barely even anything knew at this point. could you even tell me any of your other kids birthdays or is it just mine that you forget.”

eden: she stands up defeated, and says something roslyn would have bever guessed she’d hear next, “come inside i’ll have the butler put together the guest room” not an ‘i’m sorry.’ not a ‘happy birthday.’ not even that she would be the one to get the guest room together for herself. she didn’t even use the butlers name.

roslyn: “i already told you, i am watching the sunrise”

eden walks back into the house without another second of time put into trying to righting all of the wrongs that we’re just addressed during their fight.

as eden watched the late night sky beginning to slowly fade into early morning she sends up a signal to space for anyone, anything to take her away from this nightmare she is in.

who knows, maybe the stars will do more than just listen this time.

previous || next

i wish that tumblr had more text color options because i’m bummed that i won’t be able to have a special text colors for the next two gens. also surprise, we are about to start gen 4!

also also: im mad at myself for not checking mccc occult section for what ages could be abducted, (because of course that is something you can change with mccc) i wanted to do it while she was a child but i assumed that because teens could attempt to contact aliens then she could possibly get abducted but i was wrong there too, the default is only young adults and up so if you are doing this challenge, i recommend editing that setting before you unnecessarily age up your sim like i did LOL

also also alsoooo: (also is basically my ps. at this point lol) eden is basically done with her gen. all she needs to do is keep having babies until she is an elder which i don’t care to stay in the household until she is an elder, and she can get married now that she is an adult. her and dorian were already engaged by accident because dorian called odin when he was a child saying he found a ring in eden’s bag and asked odin what to say but i didn’t know that saying he should say yes would automatically make them engaged LOL so i don’t even have screenshots of that. i’ll just have them elope eventually, i don’t care to do a wedding with them.

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

Okay, second controversial ask. Half the fandom has a shit opinion of Grace. On both sides, the people who don't like her, and the people who defend her.

For the people who hate her. I feel like, they cannot see beyond the fact that she is an antagonist, and they do not want to see the full picture. She had been groomed from a young age by her mother. She grew up isolated, alone, with a ghost, who as much as he wanted to protect her, could not do much. She was failed by everyone in the Clave ( it's kind of a thing for the Clave to fail kids anyway), and she did not know better. She is fucking 16, and people cannot see that some of her actions were her only way to protect herself.

Now for the people who defend her. I cannot stand the opinion that the fandom hates/dislikes Grace just because of the ship, and then branding the misogyny card on every person who has reasons to dislike her. For the 1st time, we have a brown female protagonist in a fantasy book. For a lot of readers, they finally saw themselves in an adventure story. And the person who is in a way responsible for some of the sorrows of said brown protagonist, is the most mediocre (at best) white female character, who has a tragic back story. Stories are not written just to be in a weird vacuum world. For a lot of these young brown readers, including myself, the antagonists were white women, and some of them had tragic stories. And I feel like reducing the dislike for Grace to a ship war is just ignoring/erasing the feelings and sentiments of a lot of young non-white readers.

Same with the SA, and what she did to Matthew, Charles, and James. There should not be an "I know what she did is wrong BUT", " "her brother should have been kinder when she learned what she did", and "the other characters don't have to accept her apologies but should not be rude to her" rhetorics. There is no need for the but in these cases. I'm going to go a little personal here, but as someone who is in her 20s now, (and kind of sees beyond my nose), do not care about the tragic back story of the person who SAed my sister when she was a preteen. And I can acknowledge that maybe they grew up in an abusive household and that it's a disgusting cycle. It is still not the job of the victims to accommodate the feelings of the assaulters once they realise they fucked up.

Overall, I do believe the character of Grace was ruined in cot. I always thought that she should have killed Tatiana and that she should have left London by the end of the series, for her own sake and healing, and the sake of the other characters, who will always remember her as the blade of Tatiana. The fandom needs to see that she is one of the biggest victims in the series, while being one of the worst characters. Both can mutually exist.

I'm a massive Grace stan, lol. Please keep that in mind when reading my response.

There's a lot here, and I agree with some of it but disagree with a lot of other stuff. (This is a great ask, btw - I am SO GLAD we're in the age of fandom with nuance. Because the Grace situation is SO NUANCED and I think we should talk about it.)

Starting off on a positive note, I 100% agree with your takes on the people who hate her. She was a child that was PURCHASED by a batshit crazy woman that enchanted her when she was like 11 and pimped her out in Paris to practice the powers that were forced on her. Grace Blackthorn is actually one of my favourite TSC characters and I will always be in her corner.

Moving on, I actually haven't seen people say that they think others just hate Grace because of the ship. Where have you seen that? Not saying it didn't happen, bestie! I just haven't seen it.

OKAY SO let's get on with the Grace/Cordelia stuff.

I am a huge Cordelia stan and will defend her to the death. I have a lot of controversial opinions about her, specifically the way that the fandom treats her. My opinion is "yeah she's the main character but she's super overlooked/sidelined by basically everyone and I think we should address that because she's really awesome." I make a point to post about her sometimes because I think she doesn't get the love she deserves, and always want Cordelia-related asks (so go for it, anyone reading this!)

I do disagree with your assessment of Grace as "mediocre at best," but I'll get to that in a minute. I do agree that it's really fucked up to dismiss readers of colour for siding with one of the few main WoC protagonists in mainstream books.

This is a good segue into my next point. I actually am 100% on Cordelia's side in this particular situation. I do not think Cordelia has any obligation to befriend Grace, and I do not think she has any reason to, either. If I were Cordelia, I sure as hell wouldn't forgive Grace. I also do feel irked when people act like James and his loved ones should all accept and embrace Grace with open arms because, like, no. She totally violated James, and Matthew and Charles, too. No one in the main TLH group has any obligation to forgive her whatsoever, though I have a different take specifically on Jesse (you can read it under the cut because I hardcore dislike that character). I do hope that she can find friendship with Alastair, because I think he can understand and empathize with her, but he's sure as hell not obligated to.

You're right about the fact that there shouldn't be an "I know what she did is wrong BUT" for them. They owe her nothing.

Grace does, however, deserve a second chance. I adore her and will die on that hill, too. Not a second chance with this lot, but with other people. I will die on the hill of "Grace should have been sent to another Institute never to see any of these people she's traumatized again." Both because she's triggering for them AND because she deserves a better situation where she has the chance to be forgiven and loved and heal.

Back to Grace SAing people, yeah, you're right. She did that. It's shitty, and we should talk about its impact on James and Matthew and even Charles. I was absolutely furious with her after ChoG specifically on Matthew's behalf because Matthew is precious to me. Like, I cannot put into words just how precious Matthew is to me. And I hope James and Matthew aren't forced to interact with her anymore. They don't need to care about her backstory. They should not accommodate her feelings.

And yet.

YET.

I love the character of Grace, and I love her personally despite her actions. I definitely did not feel like she as a person was ruined in ChoT, and I love the character even more after the book. (ChoT hit a REALLY good place for me that I don't think it hit for a lot of people. It's my favourite TSC book, and probably my favourite-ever book.)

HOWEVER, I do think that the character, as she was written, was handled very, very badly. Her storyline is the only one I'm super dissatisfied with in ChoT (and Kit's, obviously, though my problem was more how the death was handled than the death itself). Grace should have killed Tatiana and left London; that's the arc I wanted for her, too. Grace also should have been able to rely on Jesse for support, and she should have been allowed to go start over at another Institute. She also should have gotten more development. It was very clear that Cassie just got bored with the character and didn't know what to do with her, so she just winged it.

I'm sorry I have ADHD so I ranted a lot but I'll stop here.

At this point, I'm also going to talk about Jesse/address him. I'm doing this at the end so I can put it under a cut. Devoted Jesse fans, exit stage left. This is not Jesse friendly.

In my opinion, Jesse is the only person in the main cast to owe Grace support. She did everything to resurect him, and he knows that he is the ONLY thing she has. And, even more importantly, Tatiana fucked him up, too. She made him an anchor for a prince of Hell. She left him half-dead for years. He of all people should understand what she went through, and he of all people should know that she didn't have a choice (as he didn't when Belial possessed him and murdered a bunch of people). Jesse was such a huge fucking asshole to Grace, and the ONLY reason he was not treated as she was is that he is a) a boy, and b) biologically related to Tatiana, which only may have made the difference. If I were Grace, I would never forgive Jesse for what he said. I hope she doesn't. After everything she has done for him, after everything he has gone through, and after all he knows her for, he OWED her compassion. Once again, a great reason for her to cut ties and be sent somewhere else. I'm captain of the fuck Jesse Blackthorn crew, especially since he has 0 canonical personality traits besides "jackass to Grace."

[tarotlexa]

hi hiii 🫶🏻 checking in rn if u have drank water yet or not ?? >:)) also read ur recent post n u THAT'S AMAZINGG U DESERVED BEING TREATED WELL N NICE NO QUESTIONSSS

btw CAN i tell ur smth? yk what's funny n weird, today i dreamt about tarot cards n it's somehow mystical but eerie? i saw my crush's face on king of cups lol [the readings i had with my friend before, she's a tarot reader! my crush always ALWAYS have the king of cups whenever the reading is about him plus whales and water. ever since i knew about him, i often have water-related dreams. either i drown, in a river, in the sea. i once touched a big ass whale humming before me lmfao] and multiple people on other cards. n this is the eerie part i think, i watched as the tarot cards became "alive" - they painted themselves? like there's a whole another world evolving inside the cards. some of them r pretty but some of them r eerie

well that's it, i think it's just fun to tell u and what do u think of it :3 how was your day? did u slept well? aa i have a question how did u got into tarot btw , im rlly curious :D

anyway that's it for now, hope you're drinking water as u read this lolll <33

~ sweet aj 🫶🏻🩷

AHHHH HELLO MY SWEET AJ IT’S SO NICE TO HAVE YOU HERE!!

i did drink water today but what about you? (thank you for reminding me about that love lmao)

also ahhh thank you so much <3 unfortunately i think it was a counteractive energy!! as in, i sadly did not pass my exam (by one point LOL) so i believe that the universe said fuck it, let’s give this girl some love since she’s going to needed LMAOOO (although it’s definitely my fault for not studying more and doing random PACs, i got lost in the sauce)

also oh my god your dreams seem so symbolic and layered and i’ll give you my take on it: you’re not drowning in water, you’re drowning in him (since you associate him with water) and that’s actually such a sweet thing to me <3 i feel like you might be dealing with the fact that this guy is sweeping you off your feet or distracting you from the rationale of the real world, thus showing up as this ever absorbing force (sort of like losing yourself in him if that makes sense?). if you have any other weird dreams to share please do, i love to analyze them and give them a deeper meaning even if i might be wrong <3

also the part about your cards coming alive: could it be that you’re developing a deeper bond with the cards that you’ve been drawing? it can definitely happen with newer tarot readers because your subconscious is still connecting to your higher self/the source. (idk if this is a common experience but it definitely happened to me when i got my first deck)!

unfortunately i haven’t been sleeping well at all lately so i’m currently running on two coffees and a redbull AND WATER(!!). i can’t wait to be back home and sleep on my sweet sweet bed arghhh

also the story about how i first got into tarot: ironically it all started with the word “no”. when i was 12 my mom took us to a small state fair in the middle of nowhere and a tarot reading stand was there. i was instantly drawn to the fairy lights and those deep purple drapes, only to be told “no” from my mother when i asked to get a reading. she said i was too “young” (can somebody be too young for tarot?) and that there was no point in me getting a reading. the more she denied me the more i wanted to learn more about it, so once we got home i drew my own tarot deck (granted, it was just a few cards that i liked and not the whole set because i was a pretty busy kid LOL). i was always very drawn to the metaphysical and esotericism in general and i believe that i acknowledged my psychic powers at around that age (i was always a very weird kid, but in a good way!). of course those cards were nothing great but i still had silly readings for myself and my friends in middle school (you can probably imagine how dumb those readings were LOL). i also developed a reputation for being a satanic witch (courtesy of my hand drawn cards, i loved being somewhat feared by some guys in school).

my actual first deck was gifted to me when i was 16, my father got me my first deck in a very random way (he knew i dwelled in spirituality) and weirdly enough, it all clicked for me instantly. tarot found me at a very strange time in my life because i felt so misaligned, like something was missing but i couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was. before even learning the meanings of the cards i was already doing readings for my friends and classmates (all in good fun) and i kid you not the readings resonated with all of them. the more i read the more i got into it, creating a domino effect in my esoteric studies and so on. i started reading more tarot books, participated in different tarot courses and gained massive amounts of experiences due to having very curious friends (thankfully only a few judged me for my love for tarot).

i’m so sorry for yapping so much about tarot but it was really the tool that i was missing in my life and in my practice. i could really go on for hours about my tarot journey but i don’t want to bore you with details lmao

thank you once again for texting me and connecting with me, i LOVE to get your updates!! much much much love and don’t forget to drink water and to eat and to rest <3333

[mayabruhbruh]

Oh man oh man😭😭 Jonathan lying about college acceptances, Joyce and Murray lying about Alaska, ROBIN "LYING"(hiding, technically) TO VICKIE RAHHHH the list goes on and on.

I think what all of these have in common is that they're all of characters that are lying to the people most important to them.

If they actually meant for this to be a continuity within the season (eg. a theme that gets referenced by a larger plotline) I think it could very well be something they intend to address subtly next season. By sort of singling out Mike in this instance, giving us something to want answered, it really seems to imply that it will show up later. In this specific case, the truth, I guess, as opposed to the lie he led with this season.

(To be clear, it's quite obvious in s4 that the lie has something to do with El and his inability to say the L word. As a matter of fact, the lie may as well have been the confession itself, but for now we're under the impression that he is the odd one out for some unspecified reason LOL.)

An example of this happening in previous seasons is season 3, when everyone was sort of acting unlike themselves. El was going to the mall, wearing unfamiliar bright clothing, trying too hard to be like Max. Mike was also wearing brighter clothing, ignoring things he used to love, and being abnormally teenager-ish. All of the kids were being annoyingly teen-ish lol. But in that season, I think they most singled out Will. By showing him as still stuck in his old ways and wanting to be kids and getting mad about all of the change going on, it made him the character that was distinctly different. They later addressed it with the plotline about getting older and additionally the one about his sexuality a season later.

Basically: "hmm, everyone here is being weird for some specific reason. wait, what about this guy? why isn't he being weird/what is his reason for being weird that we can't see?" lol.

This is just one of many theories that simply state that Mike's internal conflict is not over yet. It happened with Will, where we/the general audience assumed the plot of his coming-of-age was simply having to grapple with growing up, only for it to come flying back at us full-force with the acknowledgement of his sexuality. Giving reason to the conflicts shown in the previous season. That's what I can only assume they might also be doing here with Mike. But then again, a lot of my recent posts' basic points stem back to the fact that everything we don't know yet will be addressed next season. So there are plenty of other ways to back this up, in fact, you can see them on my page lmao, but this is just one of many ways to interpret it.

There is always a reason for patterns. In the case of screenwriting and storytelling, and the use hidden meanings within a framework to tell, it's true that plenty of things happen by accident and just happen to work out for the story. Apparently, based on how many surprise hints and patterns we see in the show that aren't always on purpose, there's really no way of telling what is intentional or not when it comes to theories that are this far from the objective fact. The Duffers are smart, but they also have a lot of happy accidents, I'd say.

Definitely keep that in mind, whether you're developing theories or reading up about them, there's always a certain spectrum that ranges not-so-vastly between plausible and wishful thinking. In the case of this post, it is RIIIIIIIGHT on that line about to cross into wishful thinking territory. Sorry lol.

Me theorizing solely off the desire for it to be true:

To be clear, I try MY VERY BEST to avoid that LMFAO lmk if I'm doing a good job.

Thanks for reading!! Love hearing y'all's observations bc all perspectives are insightful and thought-provoking!! Feel free to drop your opinions/asks/etc. in my inbox and I'll offer my best response. LOVE YALL SO MUCH OKAY BYE.

thinking about that post i saw when s4 dropped about how every character was lying/hiding something during the season (lucas lied to jason, dustin lied about his grades, el lied about angela, will about the painting, max lied about her trauma, etc etc) and the only character who’s “lie” wasn’t ever shown directly was Mike’s