#but rather than just kind of being bittersweet this has turned into a full on angst fic and i don't know what to do

[gwydionae]

Intention: Write a sweet Raph and Mikey bonding fic about how Raph is bummed that Casey has been spending more time with Donnie. Result: Every cell in my body trying desperately to keep this from becoming a vent fic about how dirty the 2012 show did Raph's relationships with Casey and Slash.

[insuke69]

What's in a name? P2

Part I

2/3

☆ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader

★ Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.

✩ Warnings: cussing, Some more angst, 'crybaby’ reader, misunderstanding, SMUT

★ smut: P in V, unprotected, pull-out-method, oral (F!receiving), pierced pp.

Rating—M

✩ 7,1k words

______

If one word could describe how the next few days of your life was, It’d be bittersweet.

Bittersweet Because of how sweet Spiderpunk was to you. Or rather, how sweet he was to who he thought was Emily.

So sweet while you couldn’t describe how you felt with him, with your own behavior more open and carefree with that dark mask you bare almost every night when you sneak out and ‘accidentally’ run into him. It makes you grin like an idiot when he stands close or when you see him webbing over to you as you chill around the bench.

That bench where you two met, where you always helplessly cried as a little girl now being a place you look forward to going every day. The second the sun sets you tell Roxy you’re going out and you stay out until any hour of the night with not even Roxy knowing about the special punk that makes your heart pound and your body ease with some kind of feeling that makes you want to be close to him physically and emotionally.

Something about how exhilarating and free you felt around him, his arm around you while you held onto him. You two often webbed some nights, to buildings you know inside out since you helped your dad design some, or some simple spray painting in canals, and if you were lucky: You two would end up on some rooftop talking while looking into the night sky with few stars because of light pollution.

One night you’re bent beside your bed with the collection of pictures with you and Spiderpunk, you’re wondering if you should show him who you are: But that's the bitter part.

Spiderpunk loves and is close to the masked street artist he simply knows by her fake name, Emily.

Bitter because he doesn’t care for the actual woman below the mask, yet he enjoys the mask and the personality below. Spiderpunk seems to despise y/n Osborn. He doesn’t make his rebellious habits too known since he didn’t do that for attention and was always his own unfiltered and blunt self. How the hell will you two ever know each other when he wears his mask for anonymity and you wear yours to not end up getting stabbed at every turn.

“I just.. I feel like she's always trying to act as if she’s so much better than her dad, when she doesn’t even leave her house to avoid the people who see her as she is.” you remember Spiderpunk shrugging since the topic had moved to ‘you’.

“Yeah? What a hot take.” You comment sarcastically with a chuckle. You couldn’t defend yourself/who is the true woman behind the mask since he would likely be offended that you would defend the daughter of such a monster.

Your small memory moment cuts short as you hear your door knock in the way you know exactly who is the one behind the door and quickly shove the shoebox full of pictures of Spiderpunk and you with the art you’ve been putting up on most osborn buildings under your bed and sit on the edge of it while the door opens and Roxy walks in.

“Hey, remember to get ready for the event.” She said as she looks away from you and goes straight to your closet. “This is important to your father, he needs his daughter there and he needs you to behave for it.” Roxy continued as she began picking out an outfit for you.

This was a christmas event where your dad made a whole thing just to show off he donated some money to a cause about homeless and unfed people around in Brazil, meanwhile he hates the needy people down in the city less than a ten minute drive away–and actively keeping them ignored.

“What's the.. Uhm..” You begin before pausing to think of the word,

“Schedule? It's from five to twelve.” Roxy chimed.

“What? Dude! I won’t be able to go out w-” You cut yourself off before rewording your words, “I don’t want to go.” you say as you lean back on your hands before adding with a scoff. “It’s a waste of time and we both know I just have to smile for a camera and look pretty like some display model.”

Roxy didn’t know about Spiderpunk, nobody did. You couldn’t let her know about Spiderpunk, it's one thing to sneak out and arrive home late with spray paint stains and smelling like an unfamiliar cologne and musky scent faintly drafting through the air you walk through–mostly because you have to hold onto Spiderpunk as you two swing through the musty camden air.

“Yes, but you also have to understand how important this is to your father, and I’ve been trying my very best to make sure your Mr. Osborn h-”

“My dad, Norman, I couldn’t care less.” you interrupt with a slight grimace, “You don’t have to ‘Mr. Osborn’ him to me.”

Roxy nods and clears her throat, “Norman,” She corrected, “In shorter words, I’ve trying so damn hard to make sure he doesn’t find anything out about whatever the hell you do when you go out, The least you can do is listen to me and miss what you do just this once.”

Her tone is a bit exasperated while still calm as if it were nothing while she rummaged through your closet and took out a sparkly low cut red dress with black edges along with lace over where cleavage would’ve been visible, along with black stilettos. She places the dress and pair of shoes onto your bed beside where you sat and moved over to your vanity for the jewelry to wear with everything, settling on a pearl necklace and a pair of white gold earrings and placing them in the middle of your vanity for you to put them on before makeup.

“I still don’t get why you have to pick out my outfits, still.” You murmur under your breath with snark as you look over what Roxy had set up for you.

“You are still dependent.” She answered bluntly while grabbing tights for you, fishnets to have below the skirt of the dress.

Still dependent.

You go quiet for a moment. So even Roxy thinks you’re a daddy's girl who can’t think for herself. She’s always picked your outfits for you for events, it always pissed you off how she never wanted to teach you about what colors clash or what is too tacky. How are you supposed to know if nobody has taught you anything?

“Your hair will be half up-half down.” Roxy adds as she gestures to what she had set up for you.

At least you had your own abilities to do your own damn hair, how generous. And with that, Roxy had walked out of your room to leave you get changed and ready for the event.

You roll your eyes and start getting changed, you look at yourself in the mirror and take a breath before testing your fake smile while looking at yourself, partially not really recognizing the reflection behind it.

Some dolled up girl wearing things that cost more than most people can wish for, your money that you don’t earn, you can't earn anything. You’re like some little girl who has to rely on the people who refuse to even teach you anything. Your face just feels as if you’re being forced to enjoy and display everything that holds blood and dirt, almost muddily dragged on your skin and collar bone.

You huff and rip your gaze from the mirror and move back to your bed to take out the balaclava and gloves hastily and shove the shoebox back under your bed and hidden away then moving over to your closet and grabbing a black and white purse–shoving in the gloves and mask before spraying on your usual perfume and leaving your room to start being on your way to the event.

_____

In summary:

The event is shit, the event has loud music, loud overwhelming music, the whole time you have to be stood with a smile that barely reaches your eyes and having to awkwardly hug or shake hands with the most random strangers you have to interact with.

There's good food and catering–but you for whatever reason was told to stay by the big decorative tree and some security guards around you since it's the usual thing at events, your father isn’t really loved by all so it's for your safety to have some random big dude hovering your every move and interaction.

“Hey, what time is it?” You ask the taller man who wore dark sunglasses and a serious look on his face that barely glance at you, almost protecting you like you were some safe that has to be observed because of secrets and riches it held.

“It’s..” He changed his statue-like position and checked his watch, “Seven o’four.” He answered while moving back to his earlier position and staring dead ahead as if you were medusa, he was still and cold as stone anyway.

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest at the time. Five more hours of standing beside some man who doesn’t care to at all speak or interact with ‘the goods’ or the product he's protecting? No. You glance around and see some double doors that are labeled with two signs which indicate a woman's bathroom and the dude bathroom with a smaller sign with some writing that you can’t read all that well.

You take a step to walk in that direction before feeling a hand on your shoulder like a chain around your ankle holding you back.

Oh right, the statue-bodyguard

“Where do you th-” The guy began before you shake his hand off of your shoulder and keep walking in that direction.

“Bathroom! Little lady Osborn has to go to the ladies room.” You say sarcastically while walking over to the doors you saw, the bodyguard letting you go after saying something about not wasting time and five minutes–you tuned him out because you already felt so free without him hovering.

You walk towards the doors and read small instructions that pretty much tell you/the one reading that where the bathrooms are.

Turn left to the second hall and third door to the right, follow the hall where the restroom signs are.

-Oscorp

You push the door and walk through to see some big hall where there are other rooms, an untouched area of the venue that seemed to be rooms to take care of kids, like some daycare or classrooms. The hall has a barely yellowish tint and has a hall that goes to the bathrooms. You explore a bit more to find an exit with a bright green sign to indicate exactly what it is.

You grin and clutch your purse as you head to the emergency exit and push it open–the cold air of the night hitting you immediately and you curse at yourself for leaving your sweater to the guard.

You take a deep breath and let the cool air flood your lungs before taking a few steps away from the building to find what part of the city you’re in and start walking more while taking out your balaclava and gloves then putting them on.

You zone out while taking the refreshing walk away from the loud party your dad- well, ‘oscorp’ has thrown, a wasteful event full of music and food to distract people from the ruined lives caused by this large and overrated company.

You then hear a familiar THWAP appear from behind you.

Oh god.

Not now-

Your mask is over your face along with your gloves but that doesn’t hide your expensive jewelry or dress, or heels or anything of the sort that shows you aren’t the lower middle class woman Spiderpunk should think you are.

“Emi’?”

A voice you always want to hear, whether it's asking or telling you something, whether it's called out or whispered in your ear, you love whenever his deep cockney words are directed at you. The nickname he gave you since he often joked about Emily being too much of a hassle to pronounce.

But right now it feels horrifying, heart full of dread at the possibility of him figuring out you aren’t who you’ve been saying you are- hell- your name isn’t even Emily, you just named yourself after your dead mother.

“Emily.” Spiderpunk said more firmly once he recognised that mask, the same mask he sees most nights–and to little of your knowledge..

Really want to see what's below it.

Really wants to see the face of the woman he's growing to love.

You swallow your pride and turn to face him as if you were a kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

The lenses to spiderpunks masks widen a little as if to represent a bit of surprise once he sees the figure below what he usually sees, a worn out hoodie or random tee and some jeans. But now he's seeing a curvaceous colored figure in a dress that's glamorized with jewelry made of pearls and white gold, shining in the streetlight and faded moonlight.

You expect his expression shift of disgust or something at how you’re dressed, rich girl, looking like a classy brat whether there's a mask and gloves to seal something that's already leaking through your image. You’re ready to blink away tears at the feeling of your sinking heart, hands tensing and feeling like you’re holding the world's problems along with your own chained to your palms.

But to your surprise, he starts to shrug off his iconic leather jacket, before you can get a word in he passes it to you and puts it over your shoulders. “Its cold as hell tonigh’, what the hell are you wearing out here.” He says playfully with a chuckle as he looked over at you so the rhetorical question sinks in.

How the hell are you supposed to answer that?

“Uhhhhhhh..” You try to register the warm jacket now over you that had that lingering punk scent that a part of you wanted to steal genuine sniffs but you knew you couldn’t really other than subtle inhales, that scent so comforting for no reason beside the one who radiates it.

“I was at an.. ‘Important’ event but snuck out like usual.” You summarize as you adjust the jacket so you can put on the sleeves and snuggle into its warmth and scent.

His warmth and scent.

“So d’you wan’ to do the usual bullshi’ on rooftops or do you wan’ to jus’ want to fuck around Osborns buildings some more?” He asks with a grin in his voice as he lazily puts his long lanky arm around your waist like he did every night ‘platonically’, ready to tighten his hold the second you say yes for you two to swing wherever.

You smile and nod “Yeah no, I’m fine with whatever as long as it’s with you.” to which he happily shoots a web and you both begin swinging through the well lit streets of Camden, at least the part of town you both were in. The cold air soon felt a bit heavier, indicating the part of town less taken care of and more polluted. You two glide over several streets but Spiderpunk lowers and slows down around an alleyway, a familiar alleyway..

The Alleyway that started it all.

You could see the same gas station a bit down the street, bright and open. The same station where you had bought food for..

“Squaishy!” Spiderpunk greeted that same person as he let go of your waist and left you to come closer on your own accord instead of dragging you into the space, not knowing at all what has happened here for you. Little did Spiderpunk know that ‘Squaishy’ was the one who caused your tears that night. Squaishy seemed to be doing better but still with the worn out jacket but they were happy and glad to see Spiderpunk as they greeted each other with a handshake and small hug, A smile in Spiderpunk’s lenses. But Squaishy’s eyes darken as he looks over at you and recognizes your mask.

But Spiderpunk follows his gaze, not realizing the tension. “Squiashy! This is my friend, Emily.” he introduced as he put his hands on your shoulders and almost pushing you into the conversation.

A knowing amused smirk falls onto Squaishy’s lips as they raise their eyebrows, “Emily?” He echoed.

Fuck.

“I have to go.” You say abruptly before Squaishy can have a quip or comment about your name..

Or mentions that it isn’t your actual name.

Words couldn’t explain how Spider-punk looked as his head whipped to look in your direction as if you said something so appalling that it insulted his whole bloodline, “Wha’?” He asked as the lenses of his mask widened, looking almost like round ovals–but the important thing is that you suddenly feel his eyes burning into yours, as if he was shifting his attention onto you to not leave so soon. Squiashy’s smug expression shifts slightly when he notices how Spiderpunk when from seeming happy and in a good mood, to worried and uncertain.

“I was out on a walk.. You know, from where I escaped-slash-snuck out from, and I don’t want them noticing I’m gone or anything since I’m an ‘important factor’.” you say awkwardly, trying your best to say everything but nothing at the same time.

Hobie isn’t stupid though, he can always tell when there’s more to the story, especially now since your excuses are getting more vague and sloppy.

“I can take you back?” He offers, either wanting to spend more time with you or curious as to what you do or who you actually are. These half truths are starting to make Hobie more curious of the woman behind the balaclava every night. At his offer, trying to know more about you, not knowing that you aren’t the Emily you’re displaying yourself to be.

Emily is bold, playful, sarcastic, sweet, thoughtful and fun. She's the woman spiderpunk wants to hold close at night and would do anything to see her eyes below the mask smile.

But he didn't know the person who you have to keep hidden from him like how you keep ‘Emily’ from your father.

Y/n is quiet, keeps to herself, diffident, rich and spoiled. The woman who spiderpunk feels indifferent about beyond disdain and a grimace when he hears her, or the Osborn name in general.

“No, no. or.. Can you take me where you found me?” You request awkwardly with a small smile, hoping he’ll say yes, half knowing he will but won’t stop asking things. He’s as curious as a cat.. An adorable, tall, lanky punk-cat.

He nods and says a quick bye handshake with Squaishy and turns back to you, putting his arm around your waist firmly and holding your body against his then shoots a web, soon launching into the air and swinging, your arms and around his neck. Palpable tension beyond your face in the crook of his neck to shield your face from the cold air hitting you both. Tension now because of what even started this relationship..

His unanswered questions, and your half answers.

Once you arrive where Spiderpunk found you, when he sets you down he keeps a hand on your shoulder as if to keep you from leaving/running off. “So, would you mind telling me at least wha’ even’ you’re talking ‘bout?” He prompted as he looked into your visible eyes through the balaclava. It felt like he was looking into your soul, making your mouth go dry.

“..I mind? I’m- I’m sorry but I really do have to g-”

“Don’ start with that!” He cut you off with a scoff as he moves his hand off of your shoulder, letting you be able to go if you really wanted to, “You always have to end up disappearing, I understand your need to have your identity secre’, but at this point it's like you don’ trust me.”

He isn’t wrong but he isn’t right either. You do trust him, there's so much you know you have freedom of doubt in him but.. It's the one thing you can’t tell him about, the one thing that you can’t control and that you doubt he’d understand. The filthy name that comes after your first.

Osborn.

Tears make a glossy layer on your eyes, You’re stuck. On one hand, if you tell the truth, he won’t ever see you the same. On the other hand, If you still avoid it, you may slip up and he’ll find out the hard way.

“Not- not yet.” You whisper, “I’ll tell everything you want to hear, but I just can’t right now.” you murmur as you took off his jacket he lent you and passed it back to him before taking some steps back, as much as you didn’t want this argument to end on this sour note, you couldn’t risk anything going wrong with your father.

Spiderpunk watched with furrowed eyebrows under his mask as you went away, disappearing as you turned a corner. He cursed at himself under his breath as he put the leather jacket back on, a faint lingering fragrance of your perfume, conflicted thoughts and emotions circling his mind like a toy train. On one hand, he knows your boundaries and wants you to be comfortable and able to cry on his shoulder, on the other hand: He won’t let himself be manipulated and lied to, whether he's infatuated or not.

He shook his head and clasped his hands over his face.

“This is a breach of her privacy. This is a breach of her privacy, this is a breach of her-” He repeats in his mind as he shoots a web and runs up a building to arrive at its rooftop. He takes off his mask and stands by the edge as he looks out at the street you went down, his mind screaming at him and his heart telling him it's a bad idea.

“She won’t like that you followed her. She won’t trust you, you can just wait..” “But wait how long? What is so bad that she has to keep it from me? How long can she play me as the fuckin’ fool..” His mind debating against himself, but still looking out for you.

He spots you and jumps over buildings while running, his eyes on you to see where you’re going. What you’re doing. Why you are in such a hurry. Watching as you approach the venue, going towards the door you went out from. Osborn’s charity event.

It was dark but he saw your figure, the way your hands moved to first take off your gloves and shove them into your bag but something fell without you noticing, then your mask. It’s like Hobie was watching it in slow motion, your hands raising to the end of your mask and starting to raise it.

In a flash of awareness, he turned around completely before he saw your face. This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen, this isn't how he wanted to see the woman hidden behind that fabric, but the need to know was almost hurting his mind, but he remembered you dropped something so he put on his mask then jumped and webbed closer to where you were and strained his eyes looking at the ground to see what you dropped.

A gold bracelet with the names “Anne-Marie, Emily, Y/n.”

Spiderpunk read the names and recognized Emily of course, so it was clearly yours, he thought. But he also recognized the name of the offspring of the man he despised. He webbed back up to the building he was on earlier and took off his mask to inspect the bracelet a bit more.

Hobies gaze softened as he gently held the delicate gold bracelet in his hand, for as small and thin it was, it was heavy. It really was gold. Hobie didn’t know what to think. Who are you?

The Event ended eventually and he just watched everyone leave, blankly staring at Osborn and his daughter-

His daughter wearing the same thing you were. The same purse hung on your arm.

Hobie felt his heart almost drop.. The woman he wanted to keep safe and protect was the daughter of the man he wanted to protect everyone around them from. He clenched the bracelet in his hand so hard that he bent the gold ever so slightly with his mutated strength. He wanted to laugh at how badly you didn’t want him to figure anything out yet, scream into the sky until it shattered because of the betrayal, the anger, the hatred brewing, the hatred for the Osborn’s moving to ‘Emily’, a girl who he thought was someone humble, who he wanted to have by his side, in his arms, and in his bed. It hurt. The avoidant truths. The way that he couldn’t think straight anymore as his mind and hands were tense.

The car drove off from the venue where the Osborn’s were going home. Hobie was going to confront “Emily”, He couldn’t recognize them anymore. As if he was going to confront a stranger he used to know. He followed the car from afar until it parked, he waited by the forest beside your house, he was about to climb a random tree to get a better view without being seen, but his hand was met with some rough fabric, his first reaction was to clench and pull it down.

He sees that in his hand, is her backpack. The one he looked through naively having little to no idea that she wouldn’t have to be a drug dealer when she can easily buy whatever she wants whenever she wants.

A bedroom window lights up and it catches his attention, he thwips a web to the outside wall and quietly walks on the wall and peeks into the window to see you kneeling down beside your bed in front of a shoebox.

“How was the event, Emi’?” Spiderpunk asked sarcastically as he let himself in through the window, you flinched and eyes shot immediately towards him with your usually smiley and once gorgeous to him eyes as wide as glass dinner plates.

“What- what do.. Shit- I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you bu-” You began as you stood and began walking closer before he cut you off with his voice raised and clear distaste as he spoke to you. You’ve never heard genuine venom in his tone, he always spoke happily with the lenses of his mask beaming.. That was gone, all gone from his hateful gaze.

“Tell me what? That you’re part of a corporation thats forcing Millions of people in poverty? That you-”

“That I have nothing to do with!” You snap, years of verbal abuse from people who have always assumed the worst from you, and now it was even worse since he supposedly knew you internally. “Aren’t you someone who fights against stereotypes? Who fights against things that are unfair?”

“Don’ you dare. Thats differen’, you were actively Lying- Hiding the damn truth from me, Hearing me say all these things about Osborn- Your dad- Ugh.” He groaned while clasping his hand over his face, trying not to yell since he knew about your sensitivity towards being yelled at. “I have been nothing but caring towards you and it feels like you’ve stabbed me in the back.” he summarized, slowly taking off his mask to show his seriousness.. And to show that he still seems to trust you.

He felt betrayed, lied to, his trust was broken–yet.. He would tell you his plans, he would tell you which ones of Osborns buildings he was going to vandalize and on what days he planned to do it, but he’s never been caught.

He’s never been caught, you’ve never snitched.

You were there most of the time, you’ve had every chance to get him in trouble and caught, that means something.

Your expression softens, now wasn’t the time but he was handsome.. Stunning. His eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed while pinching the bridge of his nose, the scowl showed that he genuinely felt conflicted and you had to know the actual reason why. It almost hurts that you are being the cause of his frown instead of the reason of his smile.

You shake off the pained thoughts and continue as you step closer so he could look at you, “Can’t you see why I never told you? Look at how you’re reacting. You know me, or you at least know ‘Emily’, so what makes (y/n) any different?” you ask with a gesture of your hand, “I’m still the same girl who would spray paint with you, who’d come with you to put up art over my father’s buildings, the same girl you laughed with and the girl you held as she cried.” You tell him as your voice trembles with tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, vision already blurred from them pooling in your eyes, looking away before he could see the effect all of this is taking on you.

He's silent for a second, he wants to yell, he wants to talk, he wants to sob, he doesn’t know exactly what to do for a moment so he swallows his pride and interrupts you right before you were about to break the silence yourself.

“Because I loved you!” He spat as if he never wanted to admit it himself, “I loved the girl who’d spray paint with me,” Hobie takes a step closer to you this, “I loved the girl whose art I’d put up on Osborn’s buildings, and I loved..” He trailed off for a moment as he put his hand on your chin to force you to look at him gently, “..The same girl who laughed with me and who I held as she cried.”

Loved.

“Loved”..

“So what? Not anymore? Because of an ‘asshole’ who happens to be my father?” You ask as you pull back from his touch, upset at the fact that Hobie was blaming you for your dad’s actions, “it’s fucking unfair.” You added under your breath as the crybaby in you was coming back stronger for ever, now the frustration from that night and every hateful interaction you’ve had coming back full force.

“I.. don’t know.” He answered honestly with an empty chuckle as if his own internal turmoil was funny as he looked into your watering eyes, knowing full well he was causing them, and that knowledge felt like a drill to his heart.

The water in your eyes thickens as you feel like he’s slipping from your hands, the one person who saw you as a person at one point now seeing you like a monster like everyone else did, always compared to your dad by everyone else, it wasn’t new.. But this just hurt so much more. So much more.

And Hobie’s heart is torn, this wasn’t how he wanted to find anything out, this isn’t how anything was supposed to go, he never wanted to make you cry. He closes his eyes and takes a small breath once your face scrunches up while choking back a sob, remembering how affected you probably are in this moment, recognizing your own heartbreak as he thought of your words.

Unfair.

It was unfair what your father was doing, unfair how many innocent people like Squaishy now sleep in cold tents in abandoned areas just to not be killed due to the cold or by other not as nice vagabonds. Nothing was fair in this moment, no stars were aligned, no god that smiled upon them, no luck in a single charm..

At this point you were on the verge of fully breaking down at this, everything just went downhill in a matter of moments. But the second you let out a choke sob, Hobie knew what to do. You suddenly felt his hand on your jaw and he pulled you into a kiss, a passionate yet soft one. His plump lips and warm piercing against your surprised ones, you fully thought everything was over and here he was: Spiderpunk/Hobie brown, kissing you with his neck craned to accommodate your height and his other hand moving to your waist to hold your body flushed against his.

He was beginning to regret having kissed you at all since you weren’t reciprocating but those thoughts were wiped once he felt your hand move to the side of his neck and an eager response from your mouth. This felt right. Whether you were some masked street artist, The daughter of a sadistic sociopath, or simply (y/n) Osborn, and if Spiderpunk was some masked Vigilante, a punk squatter, or simply Hobie Brown, this was right.

Hobie was clearly more experienced with his kissing skills, considering the fact he probably had more than quadruple the social life you did: He at least probably had much more than double the sex life too. And it doesn’t take long for the repressed emotions, repressed love and the electric tension when you two swung through the city catches up to you two. Hobie’s tongue mixing into the kiss tentatively and his hand that was on your jaw snaking into your hair and keeping you close in an intimate yet not-forced way.

This feeling was intoxicating, finally having him close and his lips slotted in yours, fitting together like some kind of perfect pieces from different puzzles. Hobie advanced ever so slightly which made you take some steps back until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, he then gently pushed you back and climbed on top of you before pulling you into another deep kiss, but more greedy and ever so slightly wanton, and this change of pace made your heart begin to beat a bit more quickly with your lips hardly keeping up with his, his tongue dancing an expert tango and yours swayed a newbie ballet. He probably thought you had some kind of experience but you really didn’t, nobody dared get close to you emotionally and much less physically.

And its like alarms went off the second his hands lowered to your hips and thighs, close to the edge of the dress you had been wearing earlier at the stupid event earlier. You pulled out of the kiss and your hands almost slapped onto his in a haste to stop him, quickly muttering a quiet “Oh shit, sorry.” Under your breath as you rubbed his hands where your hand had landed on.

“You alrigh’?” He asked as his eyes looked into yours, ignoring your apology and focusing on why you had moved your hands to stop him so quickly, not wanting to move past your boundaries–he's not that kind of man, no matter how upset he was at you moments or however badly he wanted you in that moment. He was ready to put you first, you and your comfort first.[a]

“I.. I haven’t really done anything like this before.” You tell him bluntly yet a bit quietly as you averted your gaze in slight embarrassment, he was obviously a pro and an expert and here you were: Hardly able to know what to do with your tongue while making out with someone. This information clicked into Hobie’s mind and he nodded, “You don’ have to do anything you don’ wanna.” Hobie assured you as he gently put a hand to your cheek and made you look at him, his eyes boring into yours with raw concern and care.

“No no- it isn’t that I don’t want to..” Its that you don’t want to disappoint him or underwhelm him, but how the fuck do you tell him that after crying in front of him and literally disappointed him earlier when he learnt who you really were. “..I do want to, but.. I’m no model either.” You say half-jokingly to try to lighten the intense mood.

Hobie nodded again before leaning in and kissing you again, he didn’t really mind as long as you could express your limit, “Alrigh’, but if you need me t’stop, just say the word.” He reassured you while practically looking in your soul through your eyes.

He then leaned in and began kissing your neck, his hand moving to your waist while the other moved to your back and slowly began pulling down the zipper of your dress, the feeling of his touch and his lips on your neck like a kind of blue electricity that went all through you. The dress soon lowered to your waist, exposing your breasts that simply had nipple pads due to the dress having been one of cleavage, Hobie carefully peeled them off and set them aside onto your nightstand and began kissing down your collarbone with one hand already massaging your tit and pinching your nipple, his other hand working to lower the dress more. Over your abdomen, past your hips, down your thighs, and off your legs and body.

He carefully let his hands lower and gently hold the band of your fishnets and panties, but he paused as he awaited a yes or no from you, everything was going to be on your terms.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, breath slightly shaking and his hands were calloused yet soothing on your soft skin, but you wanted more and so you nodded in approval and soon enough–Your panties were gone too, your cunt fluttering once exposed to the cold air and Hobie’s hungry gaze. In a moment of self-consciousness your thighs press together, or at least you try to before Hobie stops you with his hands on your knees and easing them apart, not at all forcefully but just enough to show what he wanted.

“Do ya trus’ me?” He asked softly, the exact same way that spiderpunk did all those nights ago, his hand once that lingered too long on your hip now on your knees, showing yourself and your vulnerability.

“Never stopped trusting you.” You answered with a small approving nod.

And with that, Hobie began to pepper small kisses into the plushy flesh of your thighs and slowly inching closer to where you felt you needed him most. After what felt like hours, he finally reached the lips of your glistening pussy and his warm breath touching your puffy clit. He kissed it once before licking a stripe from your hole to your clit then latching his mouth suddenly to your bud, blissfully making out with your lips expertly like he was with your upper ones earlier.

“Oh.. shit..” You moan breathlessly with your hand knotting into his hair. His hand moves from holding you by the knee to keep your legs spread towards the hole of your pussy, easing in a finger that entered with not too much effort due to his spit and your wet arousal welcoming him. Yet your hips squirming due to the intrusion, making Hobie slow down his finger and focus on your cunt.

He slowly pumps a single finger in your pussy while licking his name letter by letter on your sensitive bundle of nerves.. H-O-B-I-E B-R-O-W-N. You quickly feel yourself get more sensitive and your hips squirm, unsure of how to react to this new sensation, his fingers reaching places you never could and much less stimulation at the same time in your hole as it is in your bundle of nerves.

You quickly come undone and your thighs almost press Hobie’s head between them, but his hand remains on your inner thigh to keep it open, lapping up your juices with his tongue flat on your cunt and his finger pumping in and out a little more before pulling it out of you and licking it clean. Something about this lewd display makes you clench around nothing, maybe it was the fact that he hardly took his eyes off of you once, studying your expression for any hesitance or regret.

He pulled up to show his raging hard-on, straining his jeans and creating a beautiful bulge. You watch as he fumbles with his belt and lowers his pants and boxers, his cock springing free and leaking beads of pre-cum, proudly standing eight inches at least, a silver Alberts piercing. He lazily strokes it a few times and aligns it lower to your sensitive virgin hole.

“Please.. Be gentle?” You request softly as you put your hand on his abdomen as if to make sure he had stopped and listened. He nodded before leaning down and kissing your lips slowly and passionately as he slowly eased himself into you with his hands moving to your hips. You felt a slight sting or burn while he pushed himself inside, yet his lips stayed on yours for you to be able to keep your focus and sounds averted while tasting yourself on his tongue. His hips come to halt once he’s fully inside, giving you time to adjust as he separated his lips from yours and waited for your green light patiently.

At the second nod of your head, he slowly pulled out and went in once again, creating a steady rhythm with his hips with pretty groans and praises falling from his lips.

“Fuck.. pretty cun’ sucking me in- tigh’ as hell.. Shi’.” He mumbled beautifully into the crook of your neck while his hips began rutting more into you, as if desperately chasing for more with his piercing stroking your spongey G-spot and his high.

You feel yourself clench around him as your orgasm washes over you once again, Hobie quickly following suit, Pulling out and stroking himself a bit more before finishing and cumming on your abdomen, his hands quickly moving to the sides of your head to stop himself from falling onto you and instead falling onto the space on the bed beside you. He laid on his side with a protective arm around your waist and held you close.

“Emily fuckin’ Osborn.” He mumbled almost to himself as he looked up at your fucked out expression, a small layer of sweat on your pretty face, normally he had fantasized of whoever you were under the mask being an expert at everything including dick and cunt, meanwhile here he was laying beside the daughter of the man he always swore to destroy.

“...Is now a good time to tell you that Emily is my moms name?”

“..wha’?”

___________________________

★| Taglist!:

@craziblondi @fodmdk123 @vinxernica @muffinlovesfiction @jane-3043 @coffeeandtealol @alecmores @azuurr3 @nyumei @noharaaa @alisoncdariel @dailyhobiebrown @malatuadimadre @ziarah @i-want-to-be-hit-by-a-car @malyjohn @horrorcore2002 @jess-fae @bluupen

@eyesxxyou

______

I’m really sorry if this is bad/underwhelming/not as good as the last one, I was really rushed and I felt bad for not getting this out sooner :(((

I love y’all so much <3

[hey-august]

Edging anon: Alternate take on this that is more cute and a bit silly rather than hot (Altough I personally still think it’s pretty hot), that I still liked and wanted to share:

It’s fun to tease the little captain while your man’s away at sea, that was the whole point of this excercise from the start. Give that poor little thing (well, big thing actually, with just enough girth to satisfy you immensely and a cute, pinkish tip that makes your mouth water when you look at it) a few light touches during the day, just linger a bit too long after you helped him answer the call of nature, be extra gentle when you tuck this pretty cock in at night…. But also it’s oddly bittersweet to do so while Buggy is out and about. It’s sexy to be so MEAN to him, but also Buggys magic to his cock is frustratingly more reliable the Denden connection in the waters he’s charting trough.

So it’s frustrating to wait on him like this at times. Not even because of sex, but because your funny, handsome, silly clown man isn’t there with you to hold you at night or try to make you stay in bed longer even tough he KNOWS you both have a busy schedule today. It’s hard not being there when he has a bad night, he’ll, it’s harder not knowing if he has a bad night PERIOD and if a warm hug from you would help more making it better than your hand on his dick.

And you can’t help but think about that while you absently wash his cock before you are about to get ready for bed. Carefully, taking the soft washcloth and drawing a big swipe tracing the vein on the underside. This is fun, truly it is fun, but this week has been hard for you in a non sexual manner just as much as it has been (both sexual and non sexual) for Buggy.

A twitch in your hand brings you back to the present. Oh well, just two more days and he’ll be home. Still, you want to somehow make him know hes loved and you miss him, so you decide to give the little captain a little kiss, right below the head of his dick, the peckish and soft kind, a tender little reminder that you want his entire back home beyond just sexual desire.

The spurt of cum shoots out of the cock in your hand so suddenly you accidentally drop it back into the tub in surprise. The load he just blew was HUGE. The streaks barely missed your right eye and you’re certain some of it got behind your ear as well as your hair. You hadn’t noticed how long you’ve been holding him while you were reminiscing about him, but even then, that a tiny little kiss made him cum like a bull is surprising.

You look in disbelief at the cock pathetically twitching and returning to its softened stated under the water. You never realized cocks could look embarrassed. You carefully retrieve Buggys privates from the water, realizing both cock and balls are still going trough the aftershock of a damn fucking good orgasm, spasming every so often.

You almost drop him again when the telltale purupurupuru alerts you to Buggy apperantly being in waters with a better connection now. You pick up the phone, trying not to look into the, now red nosed, snails eyes, because you know where this conversation will be headed and you already feel bad for it’s innocence.

„Buggy.“ „YEAH OKAY SO TURNS OUT THE AREA IS FULL OF SEABEASTS!“ „Buggy is okay-„ „SO I PROBABLY WONT MAKE IT HOME FOR LIKE ANOTHER WEEK-„ „Buggy it’s okay, you were just“ „OR ANOTHER MONTH OR MAYBE EVEN EVER WHO KNOWS WHAT THESE THINGS MAY DO TO ME! MAY EVEN DIE OUT HERE! SUCH A SHAME!“ „Buggy, I think it’s cute you liked it so mu-„ „OH LOOK AT THIS! A HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN! WHAT A SHAME! TOO BAD, SO SAD! SEE YOU NEVERHOPEFULLYGODDAMNPLEASEFORGETTHATHAPPENEDPLEASE!!“

Being apart from you was difficult. It was hard. Buggy didn't think it was going to be this hard all the time.

It was cute at first. Sweet. You were always teasing him - sneaking up to tickle him, wrapping your arms around him so tightly that he honked, pinching his ass in public, sitting in his lap and "accidentally" moving too much. So even if you weren't physically together (well, more than you currently were), all your taunting touches made Buggy feel like you were right there.

But as the trip dragged on, the frustrations built up. Frustration that you weren't with him. That he couldn't jack off, fuck you, or come at all. That he hardly had enough time to talk to you over a spotty staticky connection.

Buggy thought about asking you for...a favor. Just once. Something little. Quick. Just the tip, you know? But he couldn't bring himself to actually say the words during the handful of calls you two had. How shitty would that be? "Hey, how have you been? Everything okay? Taking care of yourself? Great, can you rub one out for me?"

Fuck no.

...maybe he should have asked though. That might have been better than what actually happened.

Buggy wouldn't admit it, but he liked the nighttime "baths." Even if the routine left him painfully hard and pent up, he enjoyed the attention. It was comforting.

As you dragged the washcloth along his cock, all he could think about was your tongue doing the same. Fuck, he could practically feel your breath, like you were leaning in taste him.

The moment your lips touched his burning skin, it was all over. So soft and plush against his erection. Buggy didn't stand a chance. He felt like the floor was pulled out from under him.

He was doubled over and groaning. Knees weak, threatening to give out. His mind was reeling, trying to catch up to what his body was experiencing. How was there so much fucking cum?

It was like a wet dream but worse. Buggy felt like he should have known it was coming. Ugh. Coming. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuuuuuuuck. You just watched his detached dick explode after a kiss. Not even a sloppy slutty kiss with tongue and spit. Nope. Just a little bit of chaste affection.

Shit, what's he supposed to do now?

[ineffably-wrecked]

Oh, I am sooooo f-ing mad right now. I wish this was a fake article cause I know there was rumors recently that it was going to be downgraded from a whole season to a movie. But given that the article is from Hollywood Reporter, that doesn't seem to be the case...Guys, it's not even 2 to 3 hours long. They're saying 90 minutes. 90 FREAKING MINUTES!!!! There were scripts written for a whole damn season, so it looks that a lot of that has obviously been scrapped then.

But it sounds like they're still using part of Neil Gaiman's writing for the finale. These days, you can barely call 90 minutes a movie. Most animated movies are longer than that even by today's standards. This final season was supposed to be epic in scale. You're seriously gonna tell me they're going to wrap up averting the second coming and the reconciliation between Crowley and Aziraphale and their relationship of 6000 years worth of pining in that small amount of time? Impossible.

I mean, there's full length fics on ao3 of possible s3 storylines that beg to differ. Some of them that haven't even been finished yet and are still pretty fucking amazing. "How do we turn on the light?" anyone?

It just sounds to me that due to the allegations against NG, Amazon wasn't too keen on being attached to the likes of him anymore. But they figured since Good Omens still seems to have such a large and dedicated fanbase, rather than piss them off and possibly lose subscribers by outright canceling it, they'll just try to put out a half-baked, half-assed finale in order to try to appease the fans. Somewhat... It's bittersweet. Neil Gaiman is not attached any more, which is indeed what everyone wanted. And we are still at least getting some kind of conclusion. But now I'm worried it's just something that's going to be hastily thrown together. At the end of the day, despite everything, Good Omens still means a lot to me. Even though I didn't become a fan till last year. I mostly just lurk on tumblr and ao3 reading fanfics. But I appreciate the overwhelming amount of support and talent that has come out of the fandom in this trying time. I never post on tumblr, but wanted to get this and my feelings out there.

Good Omens and its story and the characters of Crowley and Aziraphale that we've come to know and love deserved better. The actors and crew that have worked so hard bringing it to life deserved better. We, as the fans, deserved better. Terry deserved better. I'm sad this may not be the long awaited conclusion he had pictured before he died. Well, as long as they still end it on a happy note. Here's hoping our angel and demon still have their happily ever after in a lovely little cottage together in the South Downs.

[biscuitbox23]

The Stag and the Warbler

Pairing: Jaskier/Dandelion x Witcher!Reader.

Summary: The bard has written a song about you. And it has given you a lot to think about.

Author's note: It's a late night thought I've had for a while. Jaskier has always been my favorite character in both the Witcher games, books and the tv show. I wanted to give him a bit of honor by writing this :) —also a little Skyrim reference cuz im not creative in song writing.

Warning: platonic love, fluff, kind of a bittersweet ending.

As Jaskier strummed the strings of his lute, he hummed the tune of a popular ballad. "Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart…" he sang but then paused mid-verse, his forehead creasing in concentration. "I tell you, I tell you, the Witcher comes- no, that does not sound so good," he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at him. You busied yourself with grooming your loyal steed, Melorax. The horse stood still, contentedly munching on bits of hay. While you brushed off dust and dirt from his coat, you could see the tiny frown written on Jaskier's face as he tried to come up with a better verse for his song.

Curious, you asked him, "Who is this hero exactly?"

Jaskier looked up, glad for the distraction. "Ah, well," he said, his fingers stilling on the lute. "It's just a tale, my friend. A story of a brave warrior who fights for justice and honor."

You nodded, understanding the stories that Jaskier shared with you during your travels as a Witcher. Tales like these were always inspiring and entertaining. Jaskier had been your companion for quite a while now, and you had grown fond of his musical talents and witty banter. He would often compare your kinder nature to his friend Geralt, who hailed from a different Witcher school whom you had heard of but never met. After grooming Melorax, you approached the front of the horse and kissed his soft muzzle. The horse whinnied softly, and you smiled at him, feeling content.

"You know I just hunt monsters for coin," you recall, sitting near him as you started the small bonfire.

"Well, yes. But, Y/n of Verden makes a good song subject. Don't you think?" Jaskier smiled widely at you as you put your hands near the fire for warmth. His fingers began strumming on his lute, calmly humming with the tune of his renowned instrument.

You began to listen closely. "With a silver sword gleaming and signs so fierce and cold…" Jaskier sang, "Believe, believe, the Stag of Verden has told."

"Stag?" You asked sheepishly, looking over at him with an expression of confusion.

"Umm… do you prefer to be called deer?" Jaskier asked sheepishly.

"Just confused with the Stag part…" you replied.

"Well, you remind me of a stag."

"How so?" You asked.

"Well, you're strong, very resilient, and almost similar to that of a protector of the realm," Jaskier beamed with poetic pride.

Upon hearing those words, a sense of pride and appreciation washed over you. It was rare for a Witcher to receive such positive recognition, as they are empty vessels of beings whose sole purpose was to slaughter monsters and collect payment. Being regarded as a hero was a new and unexpected experience for you. However, it was evident that most people still saw you as an exterminator who only existed to rid the world of dangerous pests rather than a true hero. All you let out was a slight chuckle.

Jaskier turned his head towards you, and his eyes met yours. He noticed the corners of your mouth curling up, and your eyes sparkled. Curious, he leaned slightly to his right and tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of what had caused this reaction in you. "What's so funny, Y/n?" he asked, his voice full of genuine interest and amusement.

"Oh, nothing," you jested. With a look of concern on the bard's face, he turned his gaze back towards his musical instrument, the loot. He asked in a questioning tone, "Is there something wrong with my song? Don't you like it?"

"I assure you that I like it," you said to the worried songwriter before returning to warm your hands by the fire. "Please continue."

Jaskier's face lit up with joy as he responded, "As you wish." He meticulously plucked the strings of his lute, producing a melody that seemed to flow effortlessly from his fingers. His body swayed with the rhythm, and it was clear from his performance that he was a true virtuoso of his craft.

"In the heart of the woodlands, where shadows dance and play Beware, beware, the Stag is on her way For monsters she'll conquer, with every foe she'll slay

You'll know, you'll know, the Stag brings light to the gray."

You were captivated as the bard plucked at the strings of his lute, his voice soft and sweet as honey. The music wrapped around you like a warm embrace, easing the tension in your body and calming your mind. The bard's songs were beautiful masterpieces of melody and meaning. What impressed you the most was how his music seemed to capture the essence of the world around you, bringing to life the sights and sounds of your travels in a way that words alone never could. Being a Witcher often meant living a life of solitude and danger. It made you feel isolated and alone. But having the bard by your side changed everything. His easy conversation and quick wit were a constant source of comfort and amusement, and you eagerly looked forward to every new adventure with him by your side.

By the end, you knew you could never repay the bard for all he had given you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

"You know one thing," you thought to him, "you remind me of a Warbler."

The bard chuckled at you with his sweet smile, "a warbler?"

"Yeah, those birds that sing a lot," you recalled.

As you reminisce about your childhood, your mind wanders back to when you were a young girl, growing up in a Witcher school. Life wasn't easy for you, especially since you were a frail child with a mother who struggled to provide for you. Days at school could be long and tiring, and you often find yourself exhausted by the end of them.

One particular memory that stands out to you is the sound of the Warblers that would perch on the window sill of your room. Their melodic songs would echo through the walls, piercing your ears and keeping you awake at night. You would try to drown out the noise by covering your ears with your pillow, but it was no use - the Warblers always seemed to find a way to sing their way into your thoughts. Despite the annoyance they caused, however, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in their presence. After all, they had been a constant presence in your life for as long as you could remember.

"They were annoying when I was young," You scoffed playfully, "I hated listening to them sing whenever I wanted some peace. Now that I'm older, I wish they still sang to me," you look at the burning bonfire as the warmth engulfed the front of your body. “I like your songs, jaskier, even if you played the same tune for a week. I won’t get tired of you.”

"Huh…" Jaskier gave your statement some thought, "I've never had anyone think of me that way." He sat over next to the fire, feeling a bit cold.

"Why? May I ask," You cocked a brow at him.

"I'm a bit of an exasperation and––" Before Jaskier could continue, he stopped himself. He could ruin his godly reputation in front of you, and he did not want that.

"A skirt-chaser?" You continued.

"Oh- No, no, not that," you can sense the embarrassment that overcame his confidence.

"right, alright," A mischievous chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the mention of the notorious bard. His reputation preceded him, and you couldn't help but be amused. Word on the street was he had a knack for breaking up marriages or being the third person for sleeping with married men's wives. You won't deny it. Jaskier was handsome and quite the romantic.

The atmosphere was serene as if the world had a standstill. Not a sound except for the gentle rustling of leaves as the wind passed through the trees. "Can you sing me a song, Jaskier?" You asked, "Please?"

As Jaskier continued his endless string of tales, you couldn't help but politely express your reluctance to hear more. In response, Jaskier flashed a sweet smile and said, "Yes, you may, Y/n."

One day, Jaskier won't be around you. One day, you won't ever see him again, and it will be just you and Melorax on the lonely road. It could happen tomorrow, or it could be years from now. You tried not to dwell on that possibility, but it was always there lingering at the edges of your consciousness. But that did not matter now. It was a love that grew deep inside you that you have never felt. It's a companionship that was a strange yet familiar feeling. One day, he will see you as a monster like everyone else did when they saw you. Despite this, You listened intently to his stories and musings, even when they seemed nonsensical or meandering. You laughed at his jokes and marveled at his wit. You knew these moments were precious, and you never took them for granted because you will never know when that moment will end.

A/n: hey guys :) I apologize if my interpretation of Jaskier and the Witcher universe had errors. I was busy with school to read the books and watch the show for extra context and accuracy and did this all by itself. Overall, im unite happy with how this turned out.

[super-paper]

you don't have to respond to this if you don't want to, but--I saw you mentioning you felt stupid earlier and I'm going through the same feelings myself but I just wanted to say that your analysis of my hero academia was genuinely the best I'd ever seen after following the comic for almost an entire decade(I've been here since almost the beginning...). it's not your fault if the writing took a bizarre turn, you were correctly recognizing things about the story that was presented to you and I've really appreciated your presence ever since the first time I read one of your posts.

Thank you for your kind words, they really helped me feel better. I always enjoy reading your thoughts as well, so I hope you are able to feel better soon as well.

At any rate, I think I'm a bit calmer now-- At the risk of setting myself up for more heartbreak in two weeks, I really think there's no way for it not to be a fake out because Tenko dying sincerely is a failure on every level for so-so-so many characters and the story as a whole. Izuku wanted to redefine OFA as a power meant for saving not killing, yet OFA ends up killing Tenko anyway? We get a scene where the main villain literally mocks Tenko for having never been his own person and commands him to disappear, and he does?? Nana ultimately fails to save her family from AFO a third and final time??? The Yoichi expy is ultimately forced to die while tethered to his abuser and is never allowed to truly escape or live a life outside of AFO???? Spinner pushes himself to his absolute limit and Kurogiri sacrifices himself because they both want to save Tenko, and it ends up being all for nothing????? Toshinori never gets any resolution with his beloved mentor's sole remaining family and has to live with the pain of once again failing to save her legacy?????? Tenko wants to become a hero to the villains, to the LOV specifically, but dies while all of them are literally hanging on by a thread at this time???????? Gran Torino was right??????????? There's bittersweet endings and there's bleak endings, and this is absolutely bleak if true.

Like, I know death and rebirth are huge themes in MHA-- but this is a case where the overall build up and execution of the chapter has left much to be desired. Still, the fact that Tenko says the name "Shigaraki Tomura" in quotation marks in the raw text does lend to the idea that this is actually the death of his villain persona rather than the death of the individual-- my other big concern rn is how Tenko's rebirth will ultimately be executed, since he still asks Izuku to pass a message along to Spinner on his behalf. Like..... a resurrection that has him losing his memories of his life as Tomura, or reverting back to his young "untraumatized" self, obviously feels wrong for entirely different reasons-- but this is just speculation atp and I don't wanna get worked up over smthing that hasn't happened yet.

Tenko's ""death"" also shares explicit parallels to both Toshinori's and Katsuki's brushes with death, so I do think Hrkshi could make things come full circle in a satisfying way here-- if Tenko's death is the only one that actually sticks while the heroes are allowed to defy all odds and resurrect/be reborn as the best possible versions of themselves, then obviously there's no salvaging the story. But I wanna have faith.

(Side note: Tenko/Toshi/Katsuki's (and even Touya's) limbo scenes depict them as surrounded by light and "sharing" that infinite space with someone who sincerely wants them to live-- and these scenes are starkly contrasted with AFO's limbo scenes, where his moments before death all depict as him being surrounded by darkness while being mocked by the vestiges of his victims.)

Anyway!!! At my own peril, I'll be leaning hard into the "Tenko Shimura: Rising + quirk awakening + aura!might using his vestige and the remnants of OFA to fill in the gaps of the broken reconstruction quirk (thereby fulfilling Izuku's wish to turn OFA into a power that exists to save while also helping Tenko symbolically embrace that he has the power to do more than just destroy-- he can save the villains through creation, not destruction)" theories from this point forward.

[poor-mans-productions]

(This is self indulgent fic about the Thistlesprings killing porter there’s blood mentioned but idk any other trigger warnings)

The Thistlespring tree shakes as Gorgug’s head connects with the top of the doorframe. Windows rattle with the force of impact. And the truly massive stack of books clatters from his arm in a rowdy cacophony. 

“Whoa, there bud,” Digby says rushing into the room. 

“Been awhile since you bumped the ole’ doorframe. What’s going on? Do ya need some ice? Or-”, Wilma says fussing over her son.

“No, I don’t need ice. I should actually get to work I didnt get it all done at Fabian’s”, Gorgug’s voice was tired.

“Get to work? Well, jeez there kiddo I love the hustle but it’s the first day! Come, come sit a bit let’s talk about it”, Digby says.

Gorgug puts up no resistance as his parents shepherd him into the kitchen. His chair sticks out like a sore thumb from the set sized for his parents. But it’s still a bit too small. 

“So what’s going on? How can we help?”, Gorgug can't tell whose saying what. They both use this phrase so much that it blends together. Help. Gorgug needs help. He knows he needs help. But what can they actually do?

“I just had a long day. I’m fine”, Gorgug cringes as the lie leaves his mouth. 

“Well, bud-” They know. “ Your Mom and I know-ya know. You’re a young man. You’re entitled to your privacy-”

“I think I hate Porter. And I know what you’re gonna say. Hate is a strong word. And you need to use your words and all that and I do! I did! I told him- I told him,” Gorgug’s face was hot. His eyes going black with rage, as tears stream down his face. 

“Hey, I know you tried kiddo. I know”,  Wilma’s voice is soft.

Gorgug tenses as she reaches out a hand. The Thistlesprings share a look at this, full of concern and a desperate need to help. Gorgug knows this look. The look accompanies his rage more often than not. A strange bittersweet reminder that while his parents love him they do not understand him. He sighs. 

“Sorry. Ok here’s what happened.” Gorgug is careful as he recounts the event. Keeping the rage in check as he tells them everything. Tells them about his MCAT being denied. About the 4 years' worth of classes he has to take. About how he’s still the kid from freshman year who sings songs.

As Gorgug mentions their song, a change begins. In perfect harmony, the looks of concern fall from his parents' faces. Replaced with a look he was intimately familiar with. Dark dilated pupils that swallow their irises. Blood pumping hard enough in their veins you can see it move. And each of their tiny hands curled into fists. 

A chill runs up his spine as he watches them become unrecognizable. Any trace of the kind, patient, loving parents he knows so well is gone. Replaced by these stone-faced automatons whose purpose is to contain this emotion. Rage.

“Hey, hey it’s ok. I got it. Artificing is all about perspiration. I can handle it. And you guys can help w-with stuff,” Gorgug’s voice has never been this soft.

Digby is the first to return. Shaking his head slightly like he’s brushing something away. His smile is shaky but sincere as he reaches for Wilma’s hand. 

“Mom?”, Gorgug reached for her other hand.

“I’m gonna take care of it,” her smile was unnerving with her eyes still so dark. She hops down from the table and turns toward her son. “Here’s what’s gonna happen you’re gonna go straight to bed and get some rest. And then tomorrow we’re going to go down to the school and have a chat.”

“Mom, are you sure you’re ok?”, he’d never been scared of someone else’s rage before.

“Think we’re gonna have a lot more to talk about from now on,” her smile is different than it used to be. The devotion there is no longer blind. There’s knowledge there that she didn’t have before. Allowing mother and son see each other in a new light.

🛠️

Gorgug’s alarm doesn’t go off the next morning.

Or rather it does but a tiny clockwork toy muffles the speakers. Gorgug’s sleep is uninterrupted as the bells of Augefort chime. And two gnomes slip out the back door.

Wilma stalks forward clad in armor that hums with energy. Adjusting the calibrations on her gauntlet as she walks. Digby scrambles behind her looking guiltily between her and back toward their home.

“I just think ya shouldn’t have lied”, Digby insists

“I didn’t lie. If Gorgug wakes up before noon and comes down that’ll be just fine. If he’s mad at me for gettin’ a headstart that’s fine too. But I just wanted some one-on-one with this Porter first.”, Wilma’s lip curls as she says his name.

“Now I don't see why you’d need all this armor just to talk to the man.”, Digby says.

“Oh, I’m gonna talk. I got quite a bit I wanna say.”, Wilma brings out a set of whirling ion stones as she speaks. They swirl in a dark halo around her head. Just as agitated as their master.

“Wilma I think we should take a minute before-”

“I’ve taken plenty of minutes. I got a full eight hours, made my breakfast, and now I’m on my way to meet the man who made my son cry. Made him cry, Digby! Do you know how many times our son has cried in his life? Six. And we have been there for him every single time! And that’s not gonna stop now!”, Wilma’s voice raises with every word until she is screaming.

“Please just let me take the lead. I know you don’t wanna do anything to embarrass Gorgug. It’s his teacher Wilma he’s gonna see him all year! We gotta at least try to keep things civil”, Digby says placatingly.

“You wanna take the lead on this you can take the lead on this. But I’m not taking the armor off.”, Wilma says walking through the school's doors.

Digby knocks on the door hoping silently no one is there. No such luck. A powerfully built stone genasi opens the door before the second knock. The barbarian looks down at the pair and raises his brow. The silence is violent as Digby struggles with what to say.

“Mr. Cliffbreaker hi I uh my wife and I wanted to talk to you about our son. Gorgug Thislespring.”, Digby’s voice squeaked.

Porter barely bothers to hide his smirk. 

“This is about the MCAT I denied I take it”, Porter says walking back towards his desk. Digby spares a glance back a Wilma before following. Her smile is a tightly coiled spring, tense and metallic.

“It sure is! We just don’t quite get what it is that’s going on here. We were hoping to hear it from the horse's mouth”, Wilma pipes up.

Digby chokes. Porter laughs. 

“You know if your son showed a little bit of that kinda fire in class we wouldn’t have this problem”, Porter chuckles.

“But we do have a problem Porter. We have a problem and a little thing about me. I’m quite good at dealing with problems”, Wilma’s voice is ice cold.

“Is that right?”, Porter says.

“Well! I think we just gotta, we gotta start chattin’ and figure it out huh gang!”, Digby is desperate.

“Alright, I’ll put it plain. If Mr.Thistlespring has what it takes to multiclass I haven’t seen it. Now if he wants to break his back doing all that Articifer stuff I can’t stop him. But I haven’t seen the rage I need to believe that”, Porter says kicking his feet up onto his desk.

“And that’s fair but what we’d love is just some clear-cut goals that he could be working towards. Cause he’s a straight A student, so from our standpoint, he’s doing plenty already”, Digby says.

“I’m sure you all feel that way but I don’t. So we’re done here.”, Porter says walking towards the door.

“Well now wait a minute! I’m not done talking!”, Digby insists.

Porter keeps his pace carelessly bumping into Digby. A slight he’d experienced a thousand times. It doesn’t bother him there’s still a chance here if he could just make him listen.

🎶”If you just give this song a chance

Our words will do the conversation dance

Let’s talk it out, let’s talk it out, let’s”-

“Enough”, the strings of the ukelele snap in Porter’s grip, “I’ve heard enough of these fucking songs from your son.”

“I don’t think you have”, the office door locks behind Wilma.

“Mrs.Thistlespring what is it you think you’re doing here?”, Porter says.

“Funnily enough I find rational thought quickly leaving me”, Wilma punctuates her words with a snap of her fingers. 

Chains streak from Wilma in a silvery blur. Porter barely manages to bring his hammer up in defense from them. When Wilma herself flies at his face gauntlets rippling with electricity. He snatches her from the air a second before she reaches him, hand wrapping around her throat. 

A ukelele splinters across the back of his head. Wilma tumbles from his hand. As Porter whips around to his second opponent. Digby tosses the ruined instrument aside as their eyes meet. 

“What the hell is wrong with-”

“Enough talk!”, Digby cuts him off with a wild punch.

Porter loses hold of his hammer as Wilma gives a powerful yank. Porter stumbles and growls. Sending Digby careening across the room with a backhand. He wheels around kicking Wilma hard in the gut. She grabs his ankle sending a vicious current of electricity into her adversary. 

Digby bleeds, turning on a white hot blowtorch. A look of dark determination on his face. Wilma giggles. A mirthless noise is as sharp as the sawblade she brings out. They work in perfect tandem. Taking every injury in stride as they go to work.

They analyze his weaknesses and exploit them mercilessly. Their movements brutally efficient as they take him apart in every sense of the word. They are mechanists and he is nothing more than a pile of parts. 

⚒️

Gorgug has never been late to class. Worry fills his stomach as he rushes into Porter’s office. 

“Sorry Mr.Cliffbreaker my alarm, it didn’t-”

Gorgug stops speaking as he sees his gore covered parents in the middle of casting revivify on what looks like a pile of rubble.

“What the fuck is going on?”,Gorgug had never been more confused in his life and he’s been pretty confused.

“Hey there bud! We’re just about finished up here!”, Digby says finishing up the spell.

The pieces snap back in place in a flash of light. Porter gasps back into life. Jolting to his feet as he looks around wildly. 

“We just wanted some time with your barbarian teacher here”, Wilma says patting Porter's arm. 

“Uh, Gorgug why don’t you and I talk about that MCAT?”

[rosewoodconch]

RWCH Readathon 2024:

Undercover Princess - Chapter 1

The way this chapter emulates both the same and opposite atmosphere as the prologue still astounds me. I adore Lottie's introduction and Ollie really livens up what could be a bittersweet moment.

The setting and introducing Lottie:

The way this chapter opens and aligns with the prologue, a long winding paragraph with gorgeous imagery is so beautiful. But it contrasts too:

Where the previous chapter explained the whimsical feeling and gives examples, the bakery is the example.

Then it continues to introduce us to Lottie. Where the previous chapter used Ellies full princess title, Lottie is just simple Lottie, this is a place she feels like herself, she's comfy, it's her sanctuary, so we are introduced to her as 'herself'.

We can already she Connie indicating that difference of Ellie needs a safe place and safe person. Rosewood is that safe space and Lottie will be her safe person

she radiates warmth and makes even the most drap, dusty attic space, somewhere she can feel at home.

The bakery gathering dust and fading while Lottie moves away to fulfil the promise she made to her mum will never not sting a little bit.

Family dynamics

I really enjoy again the comparison of the two girls. Like in the prologue, we're introduced to Lottie's family - kind of. We see quickly how different they are again. Ellie having a supportive, yet strict family dynamic with her dad; where Lottie isn't really supported by Beady (her step-mother), but she has more freedom to make her own choices, as long as she works for it.

We never hear of her father in this scene, and it's implied with the state of the bakery that there is no longer a 'Ms Pumpkin' around.

I really love that it's not explicitly said just yet, and that we have to make assumptions based on the setting, and circumstances, until it's finally revealed that Beady, was left to look after lottie after her mum died, with still no mention of her father.

Ollie

I adore this child and I would commit atrocities for him.

he's so sarcastic and sassy but in such a way that comes off as endearing rather than annoying. The way Lottie reacts to him coming into her room so clearly shows their dynamic as unrelated siblings in a way.

I love that you can tell that they've been friends for ever and their dialogue never feels stale to me, they always manage to pick up where they left off their last conversation (like about beady finally turning green for example - that shows us that Ollie knows and understands Lottie's frustrations with her and that they've joked about the wicked witch idea before)

everything about them just feels so natural.

I especially love the story of them at the midsummer nights dream performance as it echoes their personalities now, even if they've been muted.

Ollie always acts silly and mischievous even when he's hurting, while Lottie is more mature for her age, even back then.

I also love that the tiara only gets a small mention here, to make sure that we know of its existance and importance to lottie.

Other Notes:

I really enjoy that even this early on we can see Lottie being compared to the princesses in her fairytales, slightly hinting that she herself may be royalty

Alexa play *You can tell shes a princess* from barbie princess charm school

with the classic 'dead parents' disney princess trope, and the 'wicked' stepmother - who while baring resemblance to characters like mother gothel, and 'turning green' is portrayed as simply an adult who didn't want a kid and got handed one anyway. She's dismissive but not cruel, and Lottie emphasises with that.

Which please note. isn't healthy. and i wish Lottie and Beady both the best of luck in therapy

In summary. this chapter is a fantastic sequel to the prologue, mimicking certain parts and twisting the tale so show the girls similarities and differences.

Two girls on their journey to Rosewood, and the thousands of things, large and small, that define and differentiate them.

[viennacherries]

what is your favourite thing that you’ve ever written?

this maybe isn't the answer you were looking for/expecting, and it's a little bit personal/deep, so sorry for that.

my actual favourite thing i've ever written is the eulogy i wrote and spoke at my mum's funeral. she passed when i was 16 after a long battle with cancer, but her passing was still very sudden. we were told she had about 6 months just days before she died.

it was more of a 'celebration of life' rather than an actual funeral. my mum wasn't religious and we wanted it to reflect on her more rather than a god she didn't believe in. it was amazing. friends she hadn't seen in years travelled from across the country and even the world to come and say goodbye to her. there were so many people that we didn't have enough chairs, and the room was completely full because people had to stand at the back and sides.

i've put it below the cut, if anyone wants to read it. it's obviously very emotional, so be prepared. but it's also very hopeful, in a way that i think you have to be when you experience a profound loss.

i turn 21 in just over a week, and i think about her and this speech around my birthday. 16 year old cher was very scared, but hopeful that things would get better, and im glad she was right.

I think everyone is aware of the fact they'll have to say goodbye to their parents someday from quite a young age. I think the problem is I never imagined it would be this soon.

To an extent I had prepared myself when mum was first diagnosed with cancer. I had to accept that there was a chance I had to say goodbye. But then I didn��t have to.

I never got the chance to prepare this time. Maybe that's what feels so bittersweet. Would things have been different if I’d known sooner? If I'd known the last time would be the last time. Would I hug her tighter? Would I say all the things I needed to say?

Or would I have just never let go?

Would any of the words felt right? Would any of it have felt enough? Or would I have spent forever regretting the words I misspoke or the ones I missed? Maybe this way is better because it was unclouded by the fear of the future.

There are so many things I wish I'd told her. That I didn't blame her. That it wasn’t her fault. That I loved her more than she knew. That I hoped she found peace.

I really hope she has. I think in my heart I know she has.

I see her in everything. In the sunset and the sunrise when the sky is clear. In every Robin or Blue Tit that seems a little too calm around me, that lands a little too close or sings extra loudly. I see her in the kindness others give me, because I know she has inspired it because they loved her. It's like she’s talking to me. Like it's her telling me things will be okay. When I hug my family or friends I hold on extra tight as though it's her, and I never ever want to let go.

I think something I hadn't considered is how hard listening to music would be. Because suddenly all these words have a new meaning and you hear them in a way you never have before. Or a song comes on that I know she loved and I realise I'll never hear her sing it again or watch her dance to it while we're stopped at traffic lights.

For the last four years people have told me how strong I am. I don’t think it's true. I think she was strong. She pushed through every day. She put up with [brother's name] and I at our worst and our best. she brought people joy and she made people feel loved. She never stopped fighting. I don’t think I'm strong, I don't think any of us are. I think every day she kept going she gave everyone a little bit of her strength. I think she made us strong by being strong. I think her strength inspired ours. Everything I am is her. Some days I look in the mirror and I feel like I'm looking at her, if not for the way I look then for the person I am. Because I'm a reflection of her. Of everything she taught me. I have always lived every single day of my life trying to make her proud. I hope wherever she is she knows I'll never stop.

She always gave the best advice, even on the days where it wasn't what I wanted to hear or I got angry because I didn’t think I agreed, she always knew what to say. I only wish I could ask her one more thing.

What do I do now? What happens from here? How do I keep going without you?

I'd like to think that I know what she'd say. She'd tell me I'm strong. She'd tell me she's with me. She'd tell me she believes in me and she'd hold my hand.

All of my memories of mum right now are painful. Because I know they're just memories. But they make me hopeful because I can hold onto them forever. They make me hopeful because someday remembering her won't hurt, it'll feel warm and I'll feel love. Someday we'll all be okay.

Our memories of mum keep her alive. Even when she’s gone. I want you all to think of her and when you do, I want you to smile, just like she always made us all smile.

Remember her with love. Remember who she was. She loved you.

So to you mum. Because I know you're here and I know you're listening. I hope you see how loved you are. I hope you feel it. I hope you know I don't blame you. I hope you know it wasn't your fault. I hope you've found peace. I hope you know just how much I love you. How much we all do. I can't wait to see you again.

[arissaamr]

Embracing Our Unique Journeys: Celebrating Growth and Resilience

1) The Challenge of Comparison

In a world that constantly showcases success and achievement, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and question our progress. Have you ever looked at someone who has reached their goals and wondered if you need to catch up? You're not alone. Many of us grapple with these feelings, but it's important to remember that every journey is unique, and the road to success is often paved with unseen struggles and hard work. Join me as we explore the beauty of our paths and the importance of celebrating the destination and the journey itself.

2) Questioning Our Pace

When I see someone achieving their goals, I wonder if I need to move more slowly. Am I running out of time to reach my dreams? This thought lingers in my mind day after day. Yet, I remind myself that life is full of opportunities and gifts that come our way, which I believe are blessings from Allah.

3) The Illusion of Social Media

Social media often presents an idealized version of happiness, offering only a glimpse of what people choose to share. Everyone who achieves their goals tends to showcase their successes but trust me, everyone has struggles that often remain hidden. Our community frequently focuses on results rather than the journey, overlooking that we alone walk the road of our experiences. Only we know the pain and bittersweet moments of pursuing our dreams.

4) Embracing Our Unique Journeys

This brings to mind Paul Kim's poignant song "The Road." Its lyrics beautifully capture the essence of our journeys, reminding us that it's perfectly okay to take our time. The song emphasizes that every step, no matter how slow, is part of our unique path. It encourages us to embrace triumphs and challenges, finding meaning in every experience.

5) Spreading Positive Vibes

As we witness others achieving their dreams, let's spread positive vibes. We should celebrate their journeys and successes, allowing their achievements to motivate us. Instead of feeling spiteful, let's pray for ourselves so we can also reach our goals one day while wishing the best for others. They serve as examples of what's possible, which can be a powerful source of inspiration. It may seem small, but cultivating this mindset can create a positive impact that helps us embark on our journeys. Who knows what doors it might open?

6) Celebrating Others' Successes

I truly hope that when we see others achieving their goals or receiving good news, we can comment with positive messages like "Congratulations!" or "I'm happy for you," instead of simply saying, "You're gifted." Trust me, it's not just about being gifted; it's about the effort you put in. If you want to achieve something, dedication and hard work are essential.

7) Embracing Our Unique Paths

What we truly need to focus on is enjoying our journey. Life is an adventure, and while it may be filled with obstacles, we want to embrace it wholeheartedly. Yes, it's not easy to create a fulfilling life because, ultimately, we are responsible for shaping our reality. We refuse to dwell on past regrets. Instead, we strive to improve ourselves and become people of value, thriving in every aspect of our lives. We want to love ourselves and recognize that our past experiences have taught us invaluable lessons.

Ultimately, the road we travel is ours alone, and we are learning to appreciate every moment. Each twist and turn teaches us something valuable, shaping us into who we are meant to be. We're committed to moving forward, embracing the uncertainties, and trusting that our journeys unfold as they should. Every challenge we face is an opportunity for growth, and every success, no matter how small, is a reason to celebrate. Together, we can find strength in our experiences and continue to pursue our dreams with hope and determination.

As we navigate our paths, let's remind ourselves to be kind and supportive to ourselves and others. Each achievement we witness is a testament to resilience and determination, and rather than comparing our journeys, we can find inspiration in them. Life is about the goals we reach and the lessons we learn along the way. So, let's embrace the adventure, cherish the moments, and trust that our unique roads will lead us to our dreams.

Reflection: In pursuing our dreams, it's essential to remember that success is not solely about talent but effort, perseverance, and the courage to keep moving forward. Celebrate your journey, support others, and know that every step, no matter how small, brings you closer to your aspirations.

From my heart ♡: To everyone struggling like me, don't give up! Let's embrace this journey together, knowing nothing is impossible if we work hard. I'd love to hear your thoughts—what challenges are you facing, and how do you stay motivated? Please share in the comments, and let's support each other as we navigate our unique paths!

[synergysilhouette]

An alternate take on "Big Hero 6" (2014)

I wanted to rewrite this since there were some things I wanted to change. Maybe I'll start doing this with a couple other Disney films, likely from the renaissance to revival eras. Just to note: I LOVE this movie. This is just stuff I'd change/add in hindsight--or if Disney did the smart thing and remade THIS instead of the classic films (come at me).

Make Fred half-Ainu and able to turn into a dragon. I say “half” despite him being full Ainu in the comics is just so Stan Lee can still be his dad. Plus I’d love it if he had his more level-headed, reserved personality (as seen in the comics) when he’s alone, or as the result of the stress he's going through. Plus since he’s mixed, I’d probably make Hiro and Tadashi fully Japanese to avoid criticism. Not sure if I'd keep his ability to turn into a European dragon or change it into a Japanese-inspired dragon. Maybe he can swap back and forth? While I like the idea of him being born with this ability (in a way similar to X-Men), it'd be a nice reference to Spiderman if he was bitten by a unique species of reptile that allowed him to become dragon-like, or perhaps he was kidnapped and experimented on as a kid (ie the superhero equivalent of relatives of rich people IRL), explaining why he always tries to stay happy-go-lucky a lot. Giving the team more backstory/development in general is always a plus.

2. Incorporate more of GoGo's criminal past from the comics. Maybe explain that her gang-related activity is how she meets Hiro when he's bot-fighting, and explain that Tadashi and the Nerd Club vouched for her from being thrown out of school due to her academic ability, though joining the NC was part of the circumstances for her staying. Maybe Fred has even helped pay for her to be bailed out of jail before--something that's not revealed until the team discovers that he's rich, and GoGo develops a crush on him (her VA Jamie Chung mentioned that she believed GoGo had a crush on Fred).

3. Highlight Hiro and Tashadi's parents more, and (controversial idea) make Baymax Hiro's project. I say this because in the comics, Hiro creates Baymax himself, and Baymax is programmed with his late father's brain engrams. I'd like more focus to be brought to Hiro's family in order to show that Baymax is modeled to be like him. With this, the microbots are instead Tadashi's idea who he introduces to Professor Callaghan, and Baymax is what Hiro creates for admittance into the San Fransokyo Institute, though Tadashi does assist. As such, Baymax is still kind and caring, but his protective and flexible personality from the comics is still incorporated. When trying to quell Hiro's anger, Baymax shows Hiro personal videos Tadashi filmed for him during his time in helping make Baymax. The OG version was emotional just seeing Tadashi again, but in this version, Tadashi's videos would reinforce Hiro's moral compass and make him strive to make Tadashi (and his family in general) proud. Hiro mentions at the end of the film about making Baymax a synthformer.

4. More emphasis on the Japanese influence on San Fransokyo. I feel like even though it's a futuristic place with Japanese accents here and there, I do kinda wish more was done, perhaps taking inspiration from manga like Naruto, which lends Japanese and Western concepts.

5. Highlight Yokai more, revealing his identity earlier to give Hiro more time to process is rage and sadness at Tadashi dying seemingly for nothing. Include more of his backstory from the manga. Using this early on would make it seem like a bittersweet death for a man wo's already experienced so much heartbreak, so when it's revealed that he's alive--and the villain--it reopens the wound. Exposing his identity earlier allows him more screentime, as well as giving us more backstory concerning Abigail. And they'd actually REFER to him as "Yokai" in the movie, rather than "the guy in the kabuki mask." And I'd actually like for him to APOLOGIZE to Hiro. I know he does in the show, but I just want that closure, especially since Hiro sees how grief can ruin you.

6. Nit pick: I’d want the team to have more standout costumes like the X-Men, Inhumans, and Eternals. I’ve never been a fan of the team uniform. While they have unique colors, their looks (save for Fred, who in my version would be a dragon anyway and thus not need a costume--but probably not publicly reveal his identity).

7. Give Honey Lemon abilities similar to their comic counterparts; Honey Lemon would be skilled at martial arts, though I guess her nano-purse can stay the same as the film. Speaking of, probably drop more hints that HL is Hispanic. I'd also like to lean into her embracing the "popular nerd" trope (I'm thinking Tecna from "Winx Club" meets Jean Grey from "X-Men: Evolution"), as concept art of her makes her look like a popular girl. I'd like to think she has the best of both worlds, though she may embrace her nerdy side in particular to avoid pretty privilege/the curse of being the pretty girl. If there is time, perhaps give a flashback to how her genius is underestimated because of her stylish appearance. A piece of concept art gives me Elphaba and Galinda vibes between GoGo and Honey Lemon, and I love that they had a rocky relationship at first.

8. Just like Honey Lemon, make Wasabi a bit closer to his comic counterpart. Wasabi’s qi manipulation would be a neat trick, especially if he was Afro-Asian to help explain his affinity to it. I also love the idea that his superhero persona gives him much more confidence than his usual neurotic personality (he's like this in the movie, but it's not super obvious). I do like the idea that GoGo helps him get tougher, making him similar to Bishop from Marvel.

9. Tying into my 3rd point, show us who Tadashi is besides his scientific interests. We get such a short instance to see his relationship with Hiro and his friends, and it'd be nice for the team (and Aunt Cass) to bring up memories of him more to flesh out who he was as a person, explaining why he wants to help others. I could honestly go either way about him being Sunfire.

You know what? Just make this a 150-minute movie to cram all this is. Lemme know what you think!

[fnaffancontentbutmostlyglamrocks]

SB & Ruin Spoilers

I wouldn't mind Monty getting the most beat up and defeated if it didn't seem so unfair.

He doesn't do anything to Gregory that Chica and Roxy didn't do. All three have a habit of saying something sweet to try and lure Gregory out. Followed by aggression.

Chica is the most "kind". Will occasionally shout Gregory's name harshly.

Roxy has zero patience. Practically having some of the meanest lines, too. (It’s partially why I don't like how Ruin made her personality like Freddy. We have hints from the announcement in Roxy Raceway that she isn't all sunshine. Give the dog some bite)

Monty is right in the middle. He doesn't really try, honey. I think the nicest thing he does is give Gregory a nickname. Even his breaking point and meanest lines are rather tame.

Monty is given the most dammage after his fight. Losing the lower half of his body and his arms casing. Despite his main draw being a claw upgrade.

At least in SB, this could be credited as having him fit into the vents later on. Plus, it's obvious the original upgrade was his legs before it was changed.

Then you get to Ruin, and he's reduced to an endoskeleton. Acting more like a gaurd dog with nearly zero sense of self-awareness. Then he's electrocuted and probably died

Chica at least got to stay herself. You still find her looking for and eating trash. Now, she is always looking backward when eating. She'll peacefully shut down after her big encounter. With an option to be nice and give her a voice box.

Roxy even ignoring her turn has the best deal. She's completely aware of herself. Acting nearly exactly as she did in SB. Even sprinkling her preshatteted personailty in. That and she gets the nicest treatment of the trio. Staying fully active at the end of the story.

Monty's fate is supposed to read as karma or get back at him for stalking Cassie. Except he doesn't act any differently than Chica or even Roxy. Yes, he is after you. So was Chica. Who even tried to grab Cassie twice. Roxy is after Gregory, but she will kill Cassie if you encounter her early. He just stays in Monty Golf for most of the game until he stumbles into the waters of the sewer. He really does stumble into it. He fell harshly and didn't notice Cassie until she opened her mouth.

Then the sign.

Omfg. I'm really hoping that's just to foreshadow Bonnie Bowl being the next section and not anything to do with a certain theory. Cause if that's the confirmation. I hate it.

I feel they should have just definitely proven it wasn't Monty. Not just the gondola ride. Have a big piece of evidence that would show Monty wouldn't hurt Bonnie. At least not of his own free will. It can be hidden like Bonnie too.

The kindest thing they could do to Monty in that game would be to show he had good qualities and is a tragic figure. Broken by envy and rage. No longer in a position where people will fix his mistakes. His mind like the body he's wrecked in blind anger is broken.

Then when he's electrocuted. It's almost like you're finally forcing him to rest. (Okay, yeah, a bit aggressive approach compared to Sun and Chica, but let's be honest. Monty needs tranquilizers, not melatonin and some hot milk, to calm down). It ends on a bittersweet note.

Or alternatively.

Make him a full on villian. Give him voice lines that indicate not only is he aware. He enjoys the hunt. He's taunting Cassie. He describes how he'll dismember her. Give him lines that indicate not only did he kill Bonnie. He's proud of getting away with it. He's a complete monster. He is no longer having to hide who he really is. The Pizzaplex is abandoned. He's lost everything. So what if Cassie knows the real him. What? She gonna call and make a complaint? Naw, he knows that there isn't a point in putting on a mask. Now he's fully showing his real colors.

Then when he's electrocuted. You wish he dies, and it feels great to see karma hit him like a truck.

I'm really hoping Ruin isn't the end of Monty.

[rainyraisin]

23 23 23

OKAY

Jeez this’ll be a long one

Honestly, what I hope people notice when looking at my art is the small details. But the thing is, unless you’re actively looking for them, you probably won’t notice some of them, which leads to you being like the only person who realises dhjsbfkd- I love your silly little analysises sm though so idm that much‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖🫶🫶🫶

There’s even more small details than these (keeping it to these because of the mobile photo limit) but I don’t do them as often as I’d like to, honestly I might ramp it up a bit at this point because I had a lot of fun with them in one of my latest pieces. Btw there are small details that I like more than these but some of them are reticent spoilers so I’m gonna keep from talking about those for now.

(Putting this all as a read more as this post will be LONG.)

Starting with one of the most obvious small details but one I just like a lot, the staff magical girl Ret!Don holds is shaped as a flower made out of octagons (which is the main shape I try to go for when it comes to Dee’s patterns but sometimes they turn out as hexagons dgehbfjd I mix them up a little bit)

Edit: forgot to mention, I picked a flower specifically cause silly guy loves botany hehe 💖💖💖

This one appears in a LOT of my drawings of tot Ret!Don, this is the way I like to convey a character not having their glasses on. Since he doesn’t get his glasses till he’s 7-8 years old (doing a timeline rn so we’ll see exactly when at some point dhdjhfjf), the majority of drawings of younger Dee will have this feature, especially as I tend to start drawing them with full eyes rather than line eyes at 9 years old (the pupils still look like this but the eyes as a whole are different)

Another silly tot thing (this is just smth I’m working on btw I haven’t posted any of it yet, dw about it tho :)))) ). I gave Leo this silly shirt to convey that this is the year that Splinter appoints him leader after stripping the role from Raph. Guy is already exhausted from his new role but he’s powering through it, look at him go!!! (That’s not gonna last long)

This is one I’ve already pointed out but it was a while back so I figured I’d include it here too. On Donnie and Karai’s refs (from April 13th and April 17th respectively), they both have a pattern of three dots in a sort of arch shape above their right eyes, Donnie’s showing whilst his mask is off and Karai’s showing whilst her mask is on. This particular pattern only shows for each character when they’re involved in a certain clan :) It also illustrates their connection later on in the show, far prior to the arc even occurring (still got a while to go!)

Two out of three of the images on these next two examples are from a piece I’ll prolly be posting later today! Basically in that piece I have included a couple of polaroids in characters decorating the room as I like to do that a lot for characters who I think would have these kinds of photos (Leo doesn’t have as many, only keeping two in his room but Don and Mikey display them on the walls whilst Raph has a small collection hidden away). This first one is in Donnie’s room and depicts the day Donnie got his glasses with April’s help!! The guy was ecstatic fr‼️‼️💪💪💪 April isn’t much of a hugger but she decided it was fine this time.

These next two images are from Leo’s and Donnie’s room respectively. I figured it would be nice to have a picture that all four brothers own, even if it’s bittersweet given later context. This was taken pre-leader Leo, so whilst Raph isn’t having the best time (the poor guy :( ), this was probably the best the other’s lives were for ages.

Okay, now we’re getting into stupidly small details. In the Top Of My School animatic, Mikey is drawing a picture of ice cream kitty during the second lyric “Some people never learnt how to be driven, some people don’t even try”. Other small details in this animatic include Leo’s trophies and blue ribbon which he scavenged from the dump, the Hamato Clan box which was retrieved in episode 1, along with the picture of Leo Mikey drew when he was younger, which (other than the hamato box) all first appeared in a drawing of Ret!Mikey and FA!Mikey spray-painting Ret!Leo’s room and were later mentioned in Chapter 3 of Reticent, “Consequences”. Another small detail is in one of the final scenes of the animatic whilst Leo is staring at himself in a mirror, realising some… not so nice stuff about his self worth, he replicates Splinter’s words and actions from earlier in the animatic.

I think the ice cream kitty detail is smaller but i wanted to keep these last two together (and also I talked about more than one small detail in that section). The first one is Mikey’s little stickers on his nunchucks in Season 2 Part 2!!! Just a little guy :) some are random, some are references to other characters, some are references to other iterations of Mikey (wonder which sticker that one is CHXJHDJF)

Now, this one is STUPID SMALL, to the point I don’t even think you can see it without zooming in on the original via Procreate (might prove myself wrong later though dbsjfbdj idk). During Season 2 Part 1, Casey’s purple detail are him changing his studs to be purple. I later considered changing it to something bigger (although I had NO clue what that would be, his sneakers maybe?) but then I thought about it more and honestly, I think Leo would be kinda peed off with him if he wore anything bigger/more noticeable cause honestly I bet he didn’t even notice the change the entire time Casey had these in-

Basically, the entire point of this post is, I like small details and I might have hints to past or future events in reticent in pieces via those small details, so be on the lookout!!! Thank you Aaron for asking a question, especially this one, it was very fun rambling, and THANK U FOR ALL UR ANALYSISES SO FAR‼️‼️💖💖💖🫶🫶 (I know it’s difficult to do them since ur co-creator so like u have to try avoid spoilers but I appreciate them all the same :D)

[v013d]

🫶

thinking about love in the metaphorical hypothetical again & i should probably stop saying no one has ever been in love with me. it's the end of october & this fantasy always comes up, that there will be someone who is in love with me, there will be a beautiful chance encounter and from this a life will grow hand in hand with this other person. persons, even, if i'm lucky. but as i know more about who i am now, at the end of the long road, it is bittersweet. more comfortable in my body, my self, means that i am acutely aware and out of denial that i am too anxious to have sex, to be kissed, to take any initiative, and that any inkling of desire in my mind quickly warps into a panic attack nobody asked for. i can't go on casual dates, it would ruin me. i can't sleep around, i'm old enough to know that doesn't work for me and i'll probably end up punching someone's lights out at this point anyway. the people who might love me, might have loved me, are all too far away. the parameters of my search are so precise and narrow as to constitute an abuse of search engine optimization, but i am comfortable now to say i would rather be alone forever than settle down. i'm an aromantic romantic, which of course convolutes it all. i'm not sex repulsed but i'll be honest i'm not a fan of the idea of it either. i can do fine on my own. i've let go of the idea that i cannot let go. and i remind myself in patient tones that there is love out there, waiting for me, and all things come in time. it's a beautiful mantra now. when i feel scared, anxious of being left, fearful of the end, i only need to remember that i have felt this all before and all of it passed and i have only ever found better and better people. to know that no one can be obligated to change and you cannot treat anyone as the version of themselves you only wish they were instead of who they are, it is so freeing. it is hard to feel neglected or abandoned when you remember the reality of the people you know; you are not neglected you are simply a person that they are not obligated to. and i don't want anyone obligated to me. love or no. i want to know every life involved in mine is in turn leading a full and vibrant life. for my own reasons, some sad. most happy. i know there is a medical chance i will not survive most of the people i love if they do stay with me long enough. i will die young, all signs point to, and i do not want to create so great of a vacuous hole when i go that there is nowhere left to go for anyone i know i will leave. i am increasingly at peace with this. and i should stop saying i've never been in love with. it's just that it's a good shorthand. because the truth is, i never have, least, not by anyone who would do anything about it, and not by anyone who is in love with me enough to do anything about it, or they love me but it's too far to get to me, our lives beautiful and incompatible. i will leave & i will be left. the people who loved me enough to do anything about it didnt love me enough for what they did to be kind, and that will always hurt. there isn't enough of me to deal with a break up or to not be constantly afraid of one even if i was in a relationship, so it's probably better for everyone that i do nothing with it. inert. i am not made for anything that involves a partner, really. i can't go to parties, i'm sober, i don't like crowds or casual sex, or casual dating, i'm touch averse until i adore you and mostly i like to be quiet and plain. i'm more passive than i want to be and i know nothing about being good at topping and i embarrass myself expressing anything. i can only do what i can control. i want to see the penguins again soon. i don't want to obsess over love. it only will make me sad. goodbye, love. goodbye

[bby-gay-space-princess]

another giant post nobody asked for

on the Mother 3 OST,the song I keep thinking about most is Phantasmagoric, both in what's happening when it plays and the meaning in the name. spoiler-heavy, this is literally about the ending

if you know me don't read this unless you wanna think "huh, he's gay AND stupid AND weird" I promise there is nothing of substance here

So, first up I tried looking up the definition again and it looks like the definition I loved earlier wasn't in the first 3 places I looked lololol. The definition that I think fit best was "having the surreal, incredulous, or horror-like feel of a dream."

I think that fits best with the song bc that's the epitome of what you're seeing on-screen. Lucas has been told by so many characters that he's doing what he has to, and that this is going to save everyone rather than leaving the last needle and hoping nobody else with the power of PK LOVE does the same. Throughout everything he's shown that he does have the right heart to do this and stop the world from being completely destroyed, but this is all coming from people who heard the legends told from long before anyone saying them were alive.

He pulls the needle, the song plays, and you're sitting with uncertainty that this was the right thing to do. You're seeing the last living part of the world fall apart before your eyes, hoping that everything turns out right because what else could have been done? Let Claus pull the needle? Walk away and hope it the needle remains untouched forever? Stop playing the game and leave everyone and everything unresolved and abandoned? Playing Mother 3 after obsessing over Undertale 9 years ago really made me consider the meta context of what playing the game means, which adds to the slurry of emotions that play out as you're watching the consequences of actions: yours, Lucas', Claus', Porky's, Flint's, Hinawa's, everyone you've met in this game and fought with, against, and for.

So you're sitting there, wracked with indecision, hope, horror, and the bittersweet knowledge that this is the end. Even if not for the characters in the game, still the end of your ability to make a difference and your ability to see what happens. Whatever is going on in this moment is going to happen and you're unable to stop it, just watch as their world is torn into pieces as the dragon underneath the island awakes. Watching as all the places you've visited are falling apart at the seams to make way for this dragon that you're just hoping has the same kind heart as Lucas despite the uncertainty of legends that were made for a story long before anyone can remember on an island that was otherwise abandoned by the world forever until some time 15-20 years ago.

Every time I listen to it I tear up, if not full-on bawl my eyes out, from remembering what all happens when this plays as well as how incredibly well the song itself pulls the emotions it's meant to. It pulls the phantasmagoria, the dream-like wonder and horror, like it's a lullaby trying to ease you into a dream where your brain is stuck making the chemicals that cause wonder and fear. Stuck with raw emotion and your own imagination to fill in the gaps. Cutting occasionally to different melodies as if you're being shaken from one dream to the next. Not a smooth unseen transition, just suddenly in another place and time with the same feelings as before. A new setting for the same story you're still playing out.

The phantasmagoria of it all also plays well into the bittersweet feelings of the end of the game. What happens with Lucas and Claus, what's happening to the world, what's happened with Porky, none of it is a clean-cut "this is a happy and good end for this story." It's all tinged with bittersweet, it's all imperfect and at least a little sad while knowing that this was still the best way it could've turned out.

I think it's a nice mirror for the bittersweet ~everything~ about Hotaru in Sailor Moon. She's struggling to stay alive in a body that was forcefully brought back from the brink of death, fights against Mistress 9 to try and stop her from destroying the world and killing the few friends she's finally managed to make, struggled since the accident to keep back Sailor Saturn and the looming threat that she entails for the world, and in the end she manages to help stop Mistress 9 and keep her from taking over her body, but dies in the process leaving Sailor Saturn in control to finish the prophecy that comes with her reawakening. To finish the prophecy that "when Sailor Saturn awakes, the world will fall silent with the fall of her scythe." Just like all those millennia ago when the Moon Kingdom fell, she used her scythe and the kingdom went silent as the Dark Kingdom destroyed it.

And then Saturn rises, Hotaru has died, but Saturn still remembers Hotaru's life and all the misery, the joy, and the love she had for her father and Chibiusa. She doesn't use her scythe to end the Earth, but the invading planet instead, and lets Usagi and the others know that she's not just the guardian of death to bring destruction to everyone and end the world: she is the guardian of destruction as it comes to the circle of life. The same way that living things die and nourish the earth and living things in nature, she plays her part in that cycle to bring about rebirth. That's why her attack isn't just "big ultimate final death boom" it's ribbons, a play on the word "reborn" to bring an end to what's currently alive so that what comes next can come and thrive.

All that off-topic rambling to say: it's similar in that bittersweet "the world we're in must end to make way for what is to come" kinda way. It doesn't mean everyone and everything has to die, but it doesn't mean that it will all survive either. There's uncertainty and fear and hope. And in an ironic way, relief too. Relief in the sense of the fights and struggles that we've been facing are over. Relief in the sense of "whatever happens can't be worse."

And that bittersweet feeling is something that I've come to really enjoy in a weird way lately. Mother 3, Robot Dreams, Yinu's story in No Straight Roads, Giegue's story in Mother and Earthbound, they're all tinged with that feeling and the complicated way our hearts handle it. There's something comforting about it, about knowing there is no one perfect way to live happily ever after forever. About knowing that all the ups and downs on the rollercoaster of emotions we're all going through is okay, and that you're not alone on that ride.

Phantasmagoric does a great job at portraying that. It gives the perfect feeling of a dream you're being shaken around in from moment to moment, watching in wonder and horror as the pieces fall in/apart around you. It gives that sense of comfort that while you're watching this all play out that there's still hope at the end, that maybe despite what you're seeing that there is still a chance for everything to play out for the better.

Idk man ramble ramble blah blah blah buh buh Mother 3 blah blah stupid little thoughts blah blah happy Earth, Wind, & Fire day go watch Robot Dreams

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, TOOTH FAIRY. 🌗

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: mio age: 24 pronouns: he/they/it ooc contact: @ensemblestars on twitter other characters in xc: lucrais, jeremy, jacob, emil

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: tooth fairy age: 25 pronouns: she/her, they/them series: reverse: 1999 canon point: post-update 1.2

app triggers: child injury, car accident, medical malpractice, death by chronic disease, tooth horror/mouth trauma, mention of eating mythical creatures

personality:

as a nurse, tooth fairy is a naturally patient and kind person. she believes heavily in helping others, and will do everything she can in her power to assist people who are injured and in need. though patient, she is also incredibly straightforward and pragmatic. if she can get down to the root of a problem, she will do so immediately and wastes no time dawdling to ensure her goal is accomplished.

whilst an erstwhile calm person, she is vehement on seeing what’s right through. she has a sound moral compass, and dislikes unnecessary cruelty and harm. if you are ever caught crossing her path when you’ve wronged people, then expect a face full of fist in accordance as a reward to harmful selfishness. she even dislikes it when people are complacent an inactive against the terrible things happening in front of them.

something your muse struggles with: seeing a day where arcanists and humans can be together

your muse’s greatest strength: medicinal knowledge

history / background:

tooth fairy’s beginnings are a nightmare for most arcanists. as a child, she had a terrible toothache. it was constant, and never stopped. upon one fateful night, she would feel another sharp pain in her mouth, as the tooth had been pulled out by a small winged creature. without even a moment of hesitation, she would snatch it in her hands and on instinct place it in her mouth. all the aching stopped, and rather than blood she tasted the bittersweet sensation of a tart raspberry and sweet sugarplum. it was a delight, and one that she felt must be shared.

the tooth fairies, of course, cursed her. they told her they would take all her teeth, and watch her die as a lonely old crone. in turn, she began to wear an exterior brace, and learned how to talk to the tooth fairies and use them in her arcane arts. thus, began her continued effort in sharing the wonders of the tooth fairies. in particular, she wanted to use them for medicine, and thus began her journey into health.

the campbell family has a high prominence to it, even in human society. eclectic medical practitioners, but ones that have an importance to them. there were difficulties in spite of this. in that way, human children and arcanist children are all the same. trying to blend the societies together, you will be outcast by both. mingling with humans, or being an arcanist monster. regardless, she persevered, and it’s because of this that she was able to enter into the field of medical science so easily. during her years of study at the university, she would happen upon an accident down the interstate highway. the child had come out of nowhere, and when she got out of the car she observed the many injuries he head. his health came first, and so handful after handful of the fairies were broken and battered and smashed into medicine and salves for him.

later when he would wake, she would come to visit his mother with him. the scary part of disease isn’t just the death that comes, but the exposure. your body decays, and it doesn’t give you any dignity. weakness bared, bone, skin, and all. there isn’t anything she can do for her, but she kept the child and his mother in her head as she made her way to a prestigious conference for humans and arcanists alike.

the medicine they had intended to use would be a miracle cure. a blend of technology between both worlds, to solve and cure disease that afflicted each. she thought, perhaps, this would be the way to help that child and his mother. they were the first to acknowledge her as an arcanist, and she would do anything to pay it back.

which is why it is a shame that she did not listen so closely to what was proposed. infatuated with the possibility of this miracle, she threw her name behind the project. mellophine was well on its way to being produced to the public, and she secured john and his mother a place in its clinical trials. alas, she had been fed fake reports by the people who worked the volunteer trials. the drug worked wonders…for pureblooded arcanists. humans and those who did not share the privilege of being wholly magical would be destined to die, decay, and decompose quicker than ever.

including john’s mother.

a form of interception was made immediately. she could not stand to watch her professor lace his pockets with bloodied money. she would have no part in it. the numbing of pain is a sweet addiction, and perilous to the mortal condition. she did all she could, but in the end it was no use. even after she had claimed the tooth of a man she hated, mellophine came to the market, and she had no choice but to watch as her action led to the death of many. some lives might have been saved. she was the reason the fda put warning labels on the box, and removed the extract of arcanist ingredients from the drug. yet it was still addictive, and still being marketed.

it was at this time she was given the opportunity to work as the st.pavlov foundation, as the school physician. taking care of children…it may be easier to watch as they unfold the future. humans are humans, and arcanists are arcanists. that wouldn’t change by her hands, but perhaps she would be able to raise and care for ones who could grow into making that change possible.

powers / abilities:

arcane arts: with her abilities, tooth fairy is able to command and utilize the small winged fairies that she keeps in her jar. they will attack on her behest, and in conjunction with her medicinal skill she is able to utilize them to aid in healing. while she is no illusionist or able to cast evocations, she is able to extract power from teeth, and can resonate with the feeling of them in people. with this, she’s able to cause debilitating mouth pain to people in her way, and cleanse her allies of side effects with a gentle song.

inherent abilities:

medicinal training: she is a college graduate for general medicinal sciences, and specifically has a special interest in dental work.

items / weapons:

aluminum topped jar: a trusty jar with an aluminum cap that twists on top. inside of it are the numerous tooth fairies that tooth fairy has captured and carries with her in travel. she is able to summon them from inside the jar, and can find tooth fairies wherever she goes.

subaru: svx model, red. a trustworthy mode of transportation, and one gifted to her as an 18th birthday gift.

flannel pouch: a sentimental item containing the various teeth that tooth fairy has collected. she can tell each one apart just by touch.

starting ability: arcane arts starting item: aluminum topped jar

extra:

she studied at a university in rochester minnesota

specifically, she studied at mayo clinic college of medicine and science

she attended during the introduction of the interstate highway act, so her birthday is somewhere during 1938

just realized it's nov.27, 1938

she drives a subaru svx, red

umh….a tooth for her troubles?

discord id: toothfairy.xc passcode: yall know its me mio....