#even a papasan chair

[theglitchos]

window-shopping apartments: hell & depression

window-shopping second-hand furniture on craigslist: bliss & desire

[petrichorium]

I wish my room were big enough for a double papasan chair I’m so obsessed w them

[theoneandonlyyeti]

guys i was in nonverbal +overstimulated mode just a few hours ago and also i was stuck in adhd paralysis like it was all the bad things

then i went out and picked the berries from our bushes, played a little to the left for a while, and then ate dinner and i was back to normal

THEN i legit cleaned and organized my whole room, i even took my comforter cover off and rotated the comforter and put it back on- AND remade my bed and everything

shoutout minecraft ost for getting me through this im so proud of myself

[acid-ixx]

why now? (again &. again chapter excerpt)

ft. yandere! damian wayne x kidnapped! reader

read until the end for an author's note. slight spoilers below.

"damian, tell me, why now?"

why now? you question that to yourself more often than you would want to. why now, instead of the past 13 and a half years when you were a nobody to the family? why now, when you had finally learned to love yourself and let go? why now, when you were finally out of their arms.

"huh...?"

your youngest brother snaps out of his focus on painting a canvas of you, body turning to your direction, curiousity peeping in his eyes. he acts like whatever you had said was bewildering, but you know he knows what your question meant, he doesn't need a repeat of your statement because damian is a no-bullshit brother— he simply wants to hear your voice.

his eyes used to look at you with contempt and disgust. you'd rather that than the current gaze of adoration from your brother, who now stares at your form seated on a papasan chair, now his muse for his current painting.

"why now, damian? why is it now that all of you guys are suddenly interested in me?" you repeat; exasperation, disdain, apprehension, all an amalgation of emotions in your tone. if he wants to play stupid, then fine, as long as you get what you want in the end.

you continued mumbling, voice echoing inside the room-turned-atelier. "last i checked, you were intent on murdering me just 'cause you hated me."

it was a quip, truly, a mere tease to his past actions. you didn't know just how much your statement offends him, eyebrowns furrowing as his gaze seems to harden.

it took him seconds to fully register what you had said. you wished you were quick enough to take those seconds to your advantage to bolt out of the room, to run away, but you can't.

"(name)," he sighs, standing up from his chair and easing his way to your seated form. you stand, too, not wanting to back out of what seems to be a forming argument.

he may be shorter than you by an inch or five, but you didn't want to admit just how much smaller he makes you feel.

"i have never told you i hated you." he says, as if it is a matter of fact, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe him, to believe what he wants you to hear. the wringing in your ears provides you the slightest bit of solace, but it wasn't enough to distract you from the words that come out of his mouth, words that contradict his past actions towards you.

"i may have injured you in multiple occasions, said hurtful things beyond redemption— for that i am deeply sorry for treating you, my older sibling, that way. but my intent to hurt you in the past never stemmed from hatred. i have never hated you, (name), and i do not have any reason to hate you."

you didn't know whether he was trying to convince you, or himself. you don't know how to feel, you don't want to feel anymore. fuck, you regret even talking to him in the first place. you feel so trapped, like you were in a dead end of a maze. you want to get out but you can't.

you didn't even know just how much you were heaving, tears welling in your eyes as you shiver; all the lies you had fed to yourself now biting you back in the ass.

you expected him to shift the conversation to something else, anything else, or even tell you to sit the fuck down so he could return to painting you.

what you didn't expect was, was his sudden turn of actions as his arms locked you in an embrace, his head nuzzling your chest as he pouts, head turning up, eyes gazing at you fondly like you meant the world. like he never once hurt you with his words and with his actions.

'push him away,' your mind tells you, but your heart clenches, beating erratically as if it was screaming at you to not let go.

you hate this. you hate that you feel conflicted, appalled at yourself for even fucking reciprocating his hug. it scorches you, you hate everything, you hate that you had always wanted this. you hate yourself for tearing up, hand shakily finding itself on his head, running through his hair.

you hate how warm you feel, how your chest aches at his affection, how both your grip on each other were strong as iron. how damian nuzzles deeper into the embrace, how he feels so vulnerable in your arms.

"why now, you ask? you always wanted this, right, (name)?" his words were muffled by your clothes, but you couldn't drown his voice out even if you want to. god, you wish you never asked him anything.

he continued, pretending as if you weren't choking on your own predicament, "dick was always the most experienced, tim the smartest even if i do not wish to admit it..."

he drawls on, listing every traits of your family, relishing in the thumps of your heart.

"—but you..." he stares at you deeply, fingers dig deep into your skin. but it doesn't scar you, not anymore.

"you are the most emotional... my older sibling, the one who got away. you're finally back..."

damian makes a show of tightening his grip, the space between the two of you near to nonexistent.

you had every strength to push him away, to send him tumbling to the floor unexpectedly. but he was always stronger than you, damian was always one step ahead of you. you're too tired to fight back, you want more. you need for him to let go but—

he has you in his arms.

you don't know how much time has passed.

"... i miss you and i love you, (name)."

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 974 words. inspired by this panel. sorry for the delay for the new chapter so i'm giving you guys this erm, i was experiencing massive writer's block and mood swings (and a bit of imposter syndrome when it came to my writing). this is a drabble for a future chapter (not the next one) where they had already kidnapped you. damian is one manipulative fucker and writing contradicting feelings hurts my brain lmao !!

[starspyder]

𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘕𝘦𝘢𝘵 // 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

Summary: Dean Winchester is a hardened man. While he would love to, he can’t maintain a proper relationship due to his line of work. With how much of a sweetheart you are, Dean finds it almost impossible to keep you at an arm’s distance.

Warnings: implied age gap but it's not fully mentioned (reader is 27, Dean is 40 in this if ur curious), moderate angst, AQUAPHOBIA WARNING (almost-drowning), witches, canon-typical violence, Dean saves you hehe, fluff, lowkey grumpy x sunshine, Dean is in denial and thinks you deserve better than him, self-hatred, guilt on Dean’s part, you’re both into each other but he’s so scared of hurting you, Southern!Reader bc i said so hehehe, Dean is YEARNING

Gif from Pinterest

Word Count: 1462

Dean would never consider himself soft. Sure, he was good with kids, but only because he basically had to raise Sam by himself. Those experiences in his own childhood slipped from his hands like sand in an hourglass, and that little ball of softness went right with it. 

Until one case in Louisiana, when it practically fell right into his arms. 

He and Sam had been there tracking a coven of witches in New Orleans, like something straight out of American Horror Story. Based on the news reports, the victims were all friends or family of one of the suspected witches– likely her initiation into the group, to prove she was worthy. A young girl had gotten caught in the crossfire, simply because she was roommates with one of them, and accidentally led the Winchesters right to the coven. 

He’d seen you right before they began the real hunt, having gone back to your house for a final round of questioning. Truthfully, he’d gone by to flirt his way into checking the house for any hex bags, but your witchy roommate was good about keeping it out of her living space. When he didn’t find anything, he couldn’t seem to deny your offer for a cup of coffee, while you did your best to inquire about the case. 

“Why do you think Rebecca is involved?” You asked, somewhat nervously. 

You sat across from Dean as he sat on the couch, cross-legged in a papasan chair, one hand tapping your thigh nervously and the other holding your floral patterned mug. 

“We’re just trying to rule her out as a suspect, Ma’am. As soon as we do that, the sooner we can get to figuring out what’s been happening around here.” He had reassured you. “Are you sure you haven’t been noticing any irregularities in her routine?” 

“We have each other on some tracking app, just to be safe, y’know? She tells me that she leaves her job at 7:30 every Thursday, which is a fifteen minute drive from here. Rebecca would always tell me when she should be home, just in case anything happened,” You sighed. 

Dean’s eyebrows raised as he waited patiently for you to continue. 

“About three months ago, she just kinda’ stopped doin’ it. She’s been going out a lot more than normal, with a big group of girls– met ‘em at work, she said.” “Do you know where they’ve been going?” 

“Mostly just to clubs around town. I checked one day because she hadn’t been home all night and I was worried. Her last location was some place near Lake Pontchartrain, a few miles deep into the woods. I tried finding it online, but nothing turned up. Rebecca hates being outside, she hates camping and all that stuff, so there’s no reason for her to be there.” 

“Do you happen to have an exact location?” 

Your head shook. “It’s a big area, not a lot of cell towers.” 

Dean leaned forward and took your hand, which had still been tapping against your leg. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Sweetheart.” The next night, a Thursday, Sam and Dean had tracked the coven down to some ritual spot in the middle of the forest. It didn’t take them long, considering that half a mile out, they could hear terrified cries for help. 

They found you, tied to a tree and begging for your life as the witches teased and taunted you– even the girl who you told them you considered your best friend. 

“You know, Y/N, you’re just too sweet sometimes. You even let an entire coven slip under your nose, because you couldn’t think for a second that your best friend would ever hurt you.” Rebecca sneered, kneeling in front of you and tracing the swell of your cheek with a knife.

“Please, Becca, don't hurt me, I won’t tell anyone!” You cried, tugging against the ropes that cut into your wrists. 

Dean was ready to jump out and kill her right then, but Sam’s arm across his chest kept him at bay. For now. “Don’t hurt me! Please, spare me. Killing you is the key to getting everything I’ve ever wanted! You’re the one who kept telling me to do what I wanted for once!” Dean watched as the large bonfire cast an orange glow over your terrified features, and his chest ached that he couldn’t quell that fear. It made him think back to Lisa, how much he cared for her. Only after a week, wasDean absolutely enamored with you. 

It didn’t take long for the brothers to swing into action, killing the witches with surprising ease. They were plenty in number, but their skill couldn’t rival the brothers’ experience. 

As Sam cut your ropes, Dean was chasing after Rebecca as she chanted out a string of Latin. By the time he killed her, the damage had been done and you were writhing on the forest floor, water coming out of your mouth like there was a well in your lungs. 

You collapsed into Dean’s arms, grasping at your throat as your eyes watered, chest heaving through the pain. 

“Find the fucking bag!” Dean yelled, maneuvering you on your knees, face pointed at the ground as you drowned in open air. Sam dropped to the ground, fumbling through piles of leaves and dirt to find the offending item. In the scramble, the hex bag was kicked near the fire, causing Dean to yank his gun out and shoot it, breaking the spell. 

You gasped for breath like a fish out of water as you coughed up the last of the water wheezing and panicking from the fear. “It's okay, you’re safe.” Dean comforted, holding you to his chest as your body was wracked with sobs.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart.” 

When they were leaving town, Dean made one last stop to visit you in the hospital where you were recovering. 

“How are you feelin’, Sweetheart?” He asked, sitting next to your hospital bed. The doctors had decided to keep you for observation for a few days, citing potential damage to your lungs. 

“Like hell,” You said with a grin. “Y’all headin’ off?” 

Dean nodded. “Gotta head back home. Do you have anywhere you’re planning on going once you’re out of this dump?” 

“Not really. I don’t have any family I’m close to, so nobody to couch-surf with. I’m definitely leavin’, though. ‘M not quite sure where I’ll end up.” 

He could hear the tinge of sadness in your voice. He knew what it was like to not have a family, a place to call home. He knew it all too well. 

“Come with us.” 

The rest was history. 

Dean couldn’t help but think back to that day often. How lucky he was to have saved at least one life that day. Your life. 

He often felt dirty. You were a bright young girl, who could’ve had a great future, had you not been caught up in the mess of their lives. Not once did you ever complain, going with the flow and learning what you could to help them. You were so selfless, almost to a fault; you put up with his temper, his yelling, and when he was feeling particularly annoying. You helped clean his wounds when he was hurt, and when he was once sick, you made him tomato and rice soup, that tasted just like what Mary would make when he still held his innocence. 

Dean took his whiskey neat, while you stuck to those same girly cocktails that Sam swore he didn't like.

You were too good to be tarnished by the likes of Dean Winchester. 

Dean would always be an eternally bitter man who was constantly angry at something. He rose early due to incessant nightmares, drinking black coffee at three in the morning to stave off his near constant exhaustion. When those nightmares were about you, as they often were, nowadays, he would poke his head in your bedroom just a few doors down, his heart rate calming at how soft you looked, wrapped up in your blankets and a small light on your desk casting a warm light around the room. 

Your skin would always glow under the light, illuminating your features and the curve of your nose, how your hair fell into your face and how you would let out a wistful sigh every so often. 

You were such a stark contrast to the man who stood in your doorway almost every night. If Dean was marble, you were a flower that could be crushed under it. He was the knife, you were the sacrificial lamb. No matter what universe, Dean would ultimately be your demise, just like everyone else in his life. 

As he would gently close the door, he would take one last look at you and whisper one sentence. 

“You’re too sweet for me.”

[stick-ball]

My takes on some of this fandoms most controversial issues lately:

• you can criticize and dislike whatever but you should never be rude and threatening about it??? This is going both to nora haters and to other fans haters

• Omfg sometimes characters don't get development because the narrator who's pov we are reading couldn't care less about their issues? Rings any bells? Seriously

• I get it you come from the anime trenches but just because there's a lot of fetishism of gay boys by women there, doesn't mean women can't enjoy queer books with men protagonists anymore wtf. Kinda sexist. Live and let live.

• yeah Kevin uses alcohol as an escape but that doesn't yet qualify as alcoholism. Alcoholism is a severe condition, seriously. That's like saying someone who's in a bad mood is suicidal immediately.

• I saw several complaints on goodreads that TSC should have had sensitivity readers bcs they dont like how Jean's trauma has been approached. 1. How do you know it didn't have sensitivity readers? 2. You complain when it's not even something you're sensitive to, so let me assure you as someone with shared trauma. It's accurate as heck get lost seriously.

• I'm worried we are glorifying Jean as gentle when in fact half of it is him trying to behave in a way that means he won't be punished for breaking any written or non written rules.

• I do not accept papasan chair slander. Meet me behind Waffle House at the witching hour.

Anyway, Have a winning day! 🌞🥰

[spiraledfaun]

a deerboy story

CW: In-text induction, suggestions to become weak to spirals, and become owned by spirals. Does contain suggestions to promote safety and agency, but mind the prior warning. Written in third person.

It was a cold, dark night outside, and a little deerboy was all snuggled up in his favorite blanket, in his favorite chair. He’d eaten some yummy food and two edibles, and felt perfectly content. In front of him played the inane comedy he’d chosen, something with a lot of hijinks and fun colors.

Everything was just so lovely.

As the energetic music blared in the background, the deerboy scrolled through Tumblr on his tablet. He always felt a little horny when he was high, so he checked out his favorite place: the hypnokink tag. Not all of it was for him, he wasn’t a “good girl” or looking to “sink into pink”, but there were some good finds.

But the best find of all sent through him an electric jolt, warmed all at once from head to toe.

Spirals.

He couldn’t quite explain what it was concisely, but something in the way they moved drew him in with a vice grip. Not all spirals of course, they had to be the right speed. The right smoothness. The right pattern. Once all the components were there, they would spin him deep into their control before he could even blink.

Of course, he had a collection. No one so taken by spirals wouldn’t have at least a few. This deerboy in particular had over 180. More than a few didn’t work on him anymore, or he had been fooled in the previews that it would be right. But he kept them all. Something about it just seemed right.

And tonight, as he scrolled through the hypnokink tag, he was hoping beyond hope he would stumble upon a wonderful one. A spiral that would make him get a little wetter every time he thought about how depraved it was. Regular people didn’t drop to lines on a screen. But he couldn’t help it when it just sang to his soul, and sucked him in. And the deerboy knew he would give in every single time he let it pull at him.

Even at just the thoughts, the possibility began to draw his mind down. The weed began to hit, and his head grew ever hazier.

Oh, he had just the thing.

The deerboy, with his short little antlers, a little past only just beginning to show, picked up his aphrodisiac pills and popped one into his mouth. He chased it down with a sip of his soda, and sunk a little further into the papasan behind him. When it hit, he would be pulled into a plush cloud of pleasure, just from doing nothing but watching his screen.

He passed by post after post, seeing a new one from yesterday that was actually pretty good. Another from a hypnoblogger with an imaginary scenario. Someone’s hypnostory released to a great response. An underwhelming spiral. An attractive blonde showing off her breasts and bobbing up and down. More fantasies.

But nothing that really drew him in.

And then he stumbled upon it.

One of the blogs had posted a link to a custom spiral maker. He’d tried them out a few times over the years, but some of them just hadn’t hit, or he wasn’t in the right mood for it. But he clicked on the link anyway.

The website opened up to a preview menu. Curious, the deerboy checked over the subliminal text. Suggestions to obey the spiral, not resist, drop, filled the screen. Unfortunately, there were a few lines of text that didn’t fit his preferences, so he edited the text and added some of his favorite mantras. The colors also weren’t quite right, so he made it black and white. A smaller example of the spiral played at the bottom of the page.

Finally, said his brain, leading him down into the winding curves. I can turn off.

He navigated to the main menu, eager. His breathing increased, excited to give in, excited to just lose. The deerboy hit the final button,

And lost.

Out of his brain dripped every single one of his thoughts, the boy’s mind flooded in ecstasy, the vision of the wicked spiral etched into his eyes. Unable to keep upright, he sagged into the grip of its winding gaze, will eroding with each pulse of the pattern, feeling utterly captured by its beauty.

No longer was his opinion required, no coherence asked, nothing taxing at all. Just looking, falling, dropping deeply into trance was all he could do. It was so easy and simple to keep staring. To lose himself in the ebb and flow, the smoothness of its movement, and give up thinking.

He didn’t need thoughts anymore.

That was for other people to have.

He just needed to keep looking into the Spiral, and get weaker.

Giving into the Spiral was what he was made to do.

The Spiral owned him now.

His body began to flutter, the space between his legs feeling warmer and warmer. The deerboy’s eyes started to cross, and his mouth drifted open. Nothing had ever felt so pleasurable in his life.

As he continued to lose control of his mind to some lines on a screen, his arousal kept growing. He didn’t notice that the hornier commands had been increasing in frequency, he just knew he was feeling better and better.

The boy continued dropping, train of thought entirely derailed, drool beginning to collect in his mouth. He was in the grip of the Spiral now, completely surrendered to the patterns before him. He knew what this was doing to him. He knew he was conditioning himself deeper and deeper. But he had his safeties. He had his protections, and he trusted himself.

But of course, to anyone around, it would look as though he was wide open to their influence, receptive to any programming they might want to put on him. He shivered to think of it, wishing, secretly, for someone to corrupt his mind into something unrecognizable from his everyday self.

This desire kept him enraptured, enshrining the key to his mind in a deep, persistent Spiral fetish. And maybe someday, he’d hand it to someone willingly. It wasn’t his focus, but it always hung around in the back of his mind.

Until then, the bright, weaving lines would hold him, and turn his gaze inside out, making him weaker and writing his thoughts. He shivered in their grasp, and his arousal began to increase again. Down, down, deeper the Spiral spun him, sending his head on a dizzy revolution, dropping him into a haze.

It was so hard to think now. There weren’t any thoughts other than the ones flashing in front of his face.

You can’t resist.

The Spiral makes you weak.

You love to stare.

Drop.

Give in to the Spiral.

You’re weak.

Staring makes you mindless.

His eyes kept crossing, his mind spiraling down into nothing.

The Spiral owned him now.

Submit to the Spiral.

Don’t resist.

You love to drop.

Obey and give in.

The deerboy drooled openly, lost in the movements on the screen, conquered by simple little lights.

The Spiral owned him now.

It wasn’t a question anymore, it was the truth, and the sooner the little deerboy realized that, the better.

His entire being belonged to the Spiral, and there was nothing he could do about it.

All at once, his cunt throbbed pleasurably, and the blood rushed to his tiny dick.

Fuck.

He’d never had such a good lover as a Spiral, and he knew it. It was just a part of his reality now, that Spirals controlled his mind, and fucked it as they pleased. It didn’t matter that he understood there was no sentience there, he couldn’t help but submit to their beauty.

The deerboy had assigned… names. To some of them.

It was just to think about, never to talk about out loud, but they turned over and over in his head as he stared, wondering what this one’s moniker would be.

And as he realized what this one wanted from him, the deerboy’s hole clenched, the high catapulting him into pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. He submitted, cumming on nothing and relinquishing his mind to the Spiral.

The Spiral owned him now.

The Spiral owned him now.

There was nothing else in that moment, just the deerboy and the Spiral. And sometimes only the Spiral.

He came his little heart out, tiny tail twitching and swishing as the orgasm overtook him, cascading up and down his entire body. Utter bliss. The deerboy gave in over and over again, until he felt wrung out and tight.

Maybe it was time to stop.

[theamityelf]

(Mini THH AU Masterlist)

When Nagito is given the student files, for beating the Final Dead Room, he puts Tiny Makoto on top of his head before he opens the binder.

"Hey, wait!" Makoto chitters, practically swimming in Nagito's tangled hair. (He uses a very sweet-smelling shampoo. Honey-like.) "Wait, Nagito, I can't see it from here!"

This was, of course, the point. Makoto being the Ultimate Hope has changed Nagito's treatment of him in a number of ways, but it hasn't changed his reluctance to share information until he's sure what it is.

"It's okay," Nagito soothes. "Just a minute."

Because Makoto has already managed to get his foot stuck, he is too busy untangling Nagito's thick, wavy locks from his left leg to quite notice the subtle change in Nagito's breathing and the haste with which he is turning through the binder until Nagito starts making odd sounds that theoretically resemble laughter.

"Nagito?" There is no response; the odd laughter continues, intermittently. Makoto has freed himself from the tangle, at this point, though he did lose a shoe in there. He makes his way to the front of Nagito's head, trying to see what's wrong, but Nagito finally notices him again and grasps immediately onto the reminder that he's not alone:

He drops the binder to the floor with a heavy thud, once again denying Makoto the chance to even glimpse what's inside, and swiftly removes Makoto from his head.

(Ever since learning of the 'Ultimate Hope' thing, he never lets Makoto stand on just one of his hands; he always cups both hands beneath him, like a papasan chair.)

"Oh, I understand now!" he exclaims, and Uh-oh, he's got that look in his eyes. "Why the Ultimate Hope was given to me. Now I understand. I understand." He repeats the words 'I understand' like they're his lifeline. His speaking rhythm is erratic, going from his usual slow, contemplative pace to something desperate, like he needs the words to leave his mouth because they disgust him.

"Nagito, what happened? What did the binder say?"

It's unclear whether he even hears him. "You should...hate me, you know. You should have hated me as much as I loved you. You should be repulsed to be held by me. I'm so filthy...I understand, I understand. If your goodness allows you to tolerate me, think what might have happened..."

"You're not making sense. Why would I hate you? You're my friend!"

"Don't say that."

"You are! Nagito, please just tell me what you read! You might have misunderstood it or something!"

Nagito violently shakes his head. (Makoto sees his shoe go flying across the room, but that's the least of his concerns right now.) Then he shuts his eyes and takes some deep breaths. When he opens them again, he has...a smile on his face. "I'm sorry. My self-indulgent reaction has alarmed you," he says. His head slowly dips to the side, his expression slackening. "I'd ask you to pardon my theatrics, but you've already pardoned far too much. Let's see..." He starts to semi-casually search the room.

"What's going on?"

"I think I'll explain it when we're back at the cabin. Okay?"

Makoto frowns, half-willing to accept the delay, but... "You seemed really upset."

"I had no right to be. Ah!" With a satisfied look, he opens some kind of cabinet. Makoto can't see what's inside, from the position he's in. "Perfect. Now, if this place is as well-stocked as I hope, I can wrap you in some kevlar and put you in my pocket."

"But what about the investigation?!"

"I'll get around to that. After all, we know better than to believe that the others will figure everything out on their own."

"Huh?" Makoto is stunned by the sheer reproach in Nagito's voice when he speaks those words. He's never heard anything like that from him before, least of all towards his classmates.

At the sound of Makoto's surprise, Nagito's gaze fastens on him again, instead of whatever is in that cabinet, and a wistful smile softens his face. His thumb caresses Makoto's cheek adoringly, almost involuntarily, it seems. (It almost reminds Makoto of Mikan, and how she would handle Taka. And thinking of Mikan reminds him of exactly how helpless it is to be this small.)

"Don't worry," Nagito says. "Ah, I know trash like me has no business giving you any command, but...what I mean to say is, I will ensure you don't have to worry. I will ensure it, with everything I have. If I can protect you...perhaps my worthless life has value. No, that's putting it strongly. It has use."

"...Seriously, what happened?!"

[rubydubydoo122]

Hc that Bruce got all the Robins papasan chairs (bc they look like nests) after being Robin fora bit

Dick lost his privileges to keep it in his room because he can’t sit still. On multiple occasions he’s toppled over in it and gotten trapped.

Jason really liked to curl up and read while sitting in it, and while he had a concussion, he just decided to make one for himself in his room. Bruce and Alfred were really impressed and bought a cushion for it. (Jason has debated multiple times if he should steal it back or just leave it in his museum of a room)

Tim has one, but you would never know because it’s covered in clothes.

Stephanie doesn’t have one because she was only Robin for a little bit.

Damian did have his in his room, but after he got Titus, Bruce made him move the chair downstairs because he didn’t want Damian getting hurt if Titus decided he wanted cuddles. (Damian does bring the chair back into his room when he gets bigger)

Duke once asked Jason if he could go into his room at the manor, and Jason was like ‘Dude, idgaf. You can even take most of the stuff in there’. So He stole Jason’s Papasan chair, but he uses the cushion from Dicks chair because it’s fluffier. (Bruce and Alfred noticed, but they weren’t gonna say anything about it)

This is what they look like btw

[jupipedia]

— www.spideypeoplemeet.com. - m. o'hara.

[ chapter two ] : mad, innit?

[ details ] : mentions of violence, cursing, ooc everyone probs, once again nothing too crazy.

series masterlist.

the silence that occupied your large studio apartment, along with your slumber, was interrupted by the monotonous beeping of your new device. you pushed away from your bed, not having remembered getting into your bed, let alone falling asleep. your newly acquired mechanism was sitting on your bed side table, lighting up on rhythm with the beeps.

your hand shot out to grab the device, tapping it a few times before a miniature hologram of a woman displayed from the screen.

"hi, y/n. we haven't met. i'm lyla, miguel's trusty ai," the hologram spoke as you sat the device back on your bedside table, placing your head back on the pillow.

"didn't know that being in the spider-society meant getting a wake up call," you huffed out, forcing your eyes to stay open.

you could tell you hadn't been sleep for long as your eyelids were heavy and your body ached for rest. your best guess was 3 or 4 hours as it was close to dawn when you returned from the society and it was only 10 in the morning.

"it doesn't, but jess thought that since you were off, you could use this time to get familiar with the base. meet a few other spider-people," lyla explained, seeming to move around your apartment and inspect your area.

"how do you know that i'm off? better yet, how do you know that i'm even employed?" you eyed the hologram skeptically before sitting up. you were glad to see that you had at least changed out of your suit before sleeping, knowing that you didn't have the will to wash your sheets again due to wearing a dirty suit to sleep.

"i know everything about you. i have since you stepped foot into headquarters. speaking of, you should really get going. hate to keep jess waiting," lyla said before vanishing all together. you hummed to yourself as you scratched your scalp through you bonnet.

you had partially convinced yourself that last night was a fever dream, your loneliness having finally caught up with you. you'd even scolded yourself for falling asleep due to exhaustion while on patrol, forcing yourself to stay out for an extra hour to make up for your supposed nap. the entire interaction with lyla confirmed that what you experienced was reality. there were multiple universes and each of those had their own spider-person.

you scrambled out of your bed as you recalled lyla's words, not having given them much thought in your tired stupor. you made it two steps away from your bed before stumbling over a stray shoe in your walk way. you spotted your suit sitting on your papasan chair and quickly pulled it on while searching for your mask. it hung on your key rack, earning a look of confusion for you as it has never end up there before.

you tapped you device a few times before a portal opened up. you smiled, proud of your achievement until you noticed a few of your items floating in the air. you looked at the portal and then back to your now airborne belongings before letting your shoulders drop and stepping through the portal.

the trip was just as fascinating as it was the night before. you even managed to land a lot better than the time prior, finding yourself to be on your hands and knees rather than sprawled out on your back.

"i gotta figure out how to land this," you mumble as you stand up, brushing off your suit. you looked around, noticing that you were in what you recalled to be the lobby. there were few spider-people than there was the day prior, but you assumed it was due to the time of day.

you followed the familiar long strip that led you the backroom, knowing that you were going the right way once you heard miguel's unamused voice.

"are wake up calls a part of this whole spider-society thing or am i just a special case?" you started, ( unnecessarily ) announcing your presence as you fully entered the back room. there were a few new people in the room, one masked figure whom you assumed to be a man, an older spider-man wearing a pink robe and baby harness, and another spider-woman typing away on one of the panels. "you know how i said try not to need me yesterday, this is kinda what i was talking about."

"y/n, glad you got my message," jess greets you, turning in your direction as you walked closer to the group before you.

"yeah, lyla paid me a visit this morning. which reminds me, did no one think to tell me that a portal came with zero gravity side effects? imagine my surprise when my tv started floating when the portal opened up," you dramatized, taking a seat on one of the stray stools.

"new recruit?" the older spider-man asked, gesturing in your direction.

"yeah, there was an anomaly last night and she took care of it before we got there," miguel muttered, turning away from the group to go to the platform.

"must got skill then?" the masked one said, accent surprising you a bit.

"british? hmm, didn't see that coming," you muttered to yourself. the masked one snapped his head to you, seemingly offended.

"problem?" he asked, noticeably raising a brow under his mask.

"not with you in particular. just not a fan of your parliament or royal family or the endless years of international colonialism. i mean, how do you fight in so many civil wars and lose just about all of them?" you shrug, not finding it unreasonable to be opposed to england.

"hmm, i like you," he replies, removing his mask and surprising you with his dark skin and wicks. he held an array of piercings that you almost felt jealous of, your septum and singular nostril piercing appearing lame in comparison. "hobie brown."

"likewise," you copied his action, allowing your own shoulder length locs to fall out of your mask and into your face. you didn't let them hang for long, quickly tying them up and away from your eyes.

"full of surprises, aren't you?" he chuckled, taking in your appearance.

"that's what i was thinking last night," jess chipped in. "miguel nearly popped a blood vessel when we brought her back here. she reminded me of you and miguel's words were 'one of him is bad enough'."

"he just butthurt because i skipped over his little ego booster of a speech. he'll get over it soon enough," you concluded, taking another look around at the place before realizing you didn't introduce yourself to the other spider-man in the room. "oh, my bad, i'm y/n l/n, spider-woman from earth number no clue but it's the year 2023 there so, do with that what you will."

"if you wouldn't have skipped over my ego booster of a speech, you would know what earth you're from," miguel spoke, startling you as you had not sensed his presence. "bet you care for that order now."

"nope, cannot say that i do," you said without pause, without turning away from the robed spider man. "never caught your name."

"peter b. parker and there is a flurry of red hair crawling around here named mayday. she's my daughter," he said, looking around the room before spotting his child, using his webs to bring her to him. "see, mayday."

"well, isn't she cute," you said before turning back to jess. "now is this little meet and greet over? i'd like to catch up on my interrupted shut eye."

"i take it we're gonna be good mates 'cause i was jus' thinkin' the same thing," hobie stretched for extra emphasis before walking away from the group. "i'll be around. nice meeting you, y/n."

"likewise. well, if you don't mind, i haven't had breakfast yet, so i'm gonna go find the cafeteria, assuming this place even has one—," you said, abruptly pausing as a beeping noise sounded and the unspoken spider-girl began to type furiously on one keyboard.

"might have to put a hold on breakfast, there's an anomaly on earth-50101. pavitr, this dimension's spider-man, is not a part of the society and he's only fifteen, so he could definitely use some help and reassurance," she said, projecting a hologram of the spider-man and the anomaly.

"well, y/n, this is your official welcome to the spider-society. time to do what you signed up for," miguel addressed before he began to bark orders to the other two spider-people that would be accompanying you, excluding peter as he had mayday to look after.

"damn, i was really counting on that coffee to get me through the day," you mumbled under your breath as you put on your mask and walked towards the newly opened portal in the middle of the room, looking around before you stepped through.

while the spider-society headquarters wasn't in your dimension, knowing and actively engaging with a separate realm was a lot more overwhelming than you initially anticipated. the aura of the dimension was very similar, yet vastly different to your own, there being a yellowish tint to the atmosphere.

this dimension's new york was similar to what you thought india would be like. busy streets, busy sidewalks, busy everything. there was a faint jingling of bells, accompanied with horns and shouting as cars saat in backed up traffic. there was aromas mixing together, different spices lingering in the air as vendor cooked their food at their stalls. there were pedestrians dressed in bright colors and patterns. it was beautiful truly.

"mad, innit?" hobie said as he approached your side. you couldn't even respond to him as you were too busy looking around. "just wait 'til you check out my parts, you'll love it. also, not sure if anyone's told ya', but don't take off the watch while you're not in your dimension. 's the only thing that 'lows us to be here without glitching."

"i'll keep that in mind," you mumbled as you shook yourself free from your daze.

"orden del día, find the anomaly. once we do, hobie, you take care of any civilians, clear the path to decrease the chances of a casualty. and y/n, you're gonna have to locate this dimension's spider-man. i assume that he'll be around when we locate the anomaly, so keep an eye out for him. jess and i will deal with capturing the anomaly. let's go!" miguel ordered, causing everyone to disperse into random directions. you shot a web in the direction of a tall building, projecting yourself to a better view point. you leaped from building to building searching the streets for anything completely out of the norm.

"i found it," you heard miguel's voice come from your watch. "come to the location and then carry out your tasks."

your watch lit up with a gps-like screen, dots indicating miguel, hobie, and jess moving across the map as you swung towards miguel's location. you almost made it when you spotted a swinging figure in your peripheral. you pressed a few buttons on the watch, not remembering much from the crash course jess gave you, before locating the comms button.

"spider-variant located. should i speak to him as i pursue him or just quietly follow behind?" you asked as you began to follow after him, swinging a few buildings behind.

"speak to him. let him know we're here to help," jess replied. you forwent a response as you increased your momentum to catch up with him. you were a few meters behind him when you finally called out to him.

"spider-man! spider-man!" you called out with no response from the other enhanced person. "pavitr!"

"huh?" he exclaimed, catching sight of you and missing the target for his web. you quickly shot a web out to catch him, effectively slinging him up to a nearby rooftop before landing there yourself.

"sorry, if that was a bit rough, didn't expect to startle you how i did. which is stupid because obviously, you'd be startled if someone called out to you using your name while wearing the mask since the whole hidden identity thing—," you begin to ramble before stopping to look at the slightly petrified boy and sighing. "right, sorry. i'm really new to this, too. i'm just like you, but i'm from another dimension and there are others out there that are just like us. the space and time continuum theory is real and super cool, but you'll get a run down later. but, for right now, i need you to trust me when i say we are here to help."

"i—you—we? there's more here? right now?" he sputtered, an appropriate reaction given the circumstances.

"the bad guy you're headed towards? he's not from here. there are other spider-people here who want to take him down and send him to his assigned timeline before he can cause any real damage. you just have to trust that we are here to help you solve this, okay? because this is way bigger than some wannabe-villian loser trying to cause trouble."

"if i'm going to trust you, then you have to promise to explain after this thing is straightened out," he said, looking in the direction of the destruction you assumed to be from the anomaly.

"when there is time, everything will be explained, but for right now, we need to help them out. and then i'll answer anything you want," you confirmed, earning a determined nod from the boy before he swung himself to a different building, advancing towards the scene. you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding before folling suit.

not too bad for your first time.

© jupipedia. do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

[skyler10fic]

Lighting Strikes Twice Ch. 6

Summary:

Carol begins to understand Skye's world and meets the Marias, which brings out a little jealousy in Skye.

Read on Ao3

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When Carol left the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower and now in Skye’s spare clothes, she caught a glimpse of Skye sitting on her bed, clutching a plush tiger as she wept. Carol started to go in but pulled away. She didn’t know this extraordinary, beautiful woman well enough yet to invade such a vulnerable moment. In Kree culture, it would be a violation of dignity to even see another cry. Carol knew Kree warrior honor culture didn’t apply here, but it would take a lot longer than a few hours to dismantle it from her mind after a lifetime of living it.   

Instead, Carol joined Phil and Melinda in the living room. They were whispering and stopped when Carol walked in. 

Phil looked at her as if she held some inscrutable mystery. “All this time. And now you’re here, in our daughter’s apartment. Just like that. How?” 

Carol shrugged. “It was the only place on earth my home ship had been before. I figured if I’m from Earth, this would be the best place to start. And now, I don’t know if I did the right thing…” She looked over her shoulder toward the hallway to Skye’s bedroom. “I got what I needed to know, but I’ve just made things worse for all of you.”

Melinda sighed and handed Carol a cup of green tea. “Here. This will help.” 

They all three took seats—Phil and Melinda on Skye’s couch and Carol in the gamer chair—and exchanged as much information as they could about each other’s cultures, filling in gaps where each other’s bare-bones research had failed. When they got to the night of the child abduction, they noticed Skye had been listening in the hallway. 

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Wanna come talk? How much did you hear?”

Skye shrugged. “Pretty much everything. It’s not a big apartment.” She wiped at her red eyes and sat in the papasan chair opposite Carol. 

Phil shook his head and smirked. 

“What on earth could be funny about this?” Melinda scolded. 

“It’s just, none of us actually remember it.” Phil gestured to all of them. “Skye was so young when she used the teleport beam down to earth; and just as young, Carol was taken by the teleport up to the Kree ship; and you and I weren’t there until after, when we found Skye and didn’t find Carol. The most significant event in all of our lives, and none of us can actually describe it happening. Just ironic, I suppose.” 

Skye swallowed. “It was dark and cold. And wet.” 

The other three fell silent.  

Skye stared at the floor and hugged her knees to her chest as she continued softly. “You’re right. I don’t really remember it. But I still get a lump in my throat when I see a baseball diamond. I still get nightmares when it storms overnight. It’s always someone hurting you two—” She nodded to her parents in the room. “But now I wonder if it’s a memory of someone else.” 

“Of your birth parents.” Melinda nodded. 

“They died because they tried to save me.” Skye’s voice broke. “I just know it. In here.” She placed a hand on her chest, where her breath was still burdened with uneven heaviness.    

Carol stood but realized she didn’t have anywhere to go. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— I’m so sorry.” She started toward the door, but Skye caught her arm. 

“No, no, thank you.” Skye sniffed and Carol met her bloodshot eyes. “I’ve been wondering all my life if they even cared. If my parents were the ones who abused me. I thought, maybe I didn’t want to go back as a kid because I was unloved and unwanted. But I wasn’t. And that means everything to me. Thank you.” 

“You don’t hate me?” Carol tilted her head. “Not even a little?”

Skye’s lip curled up in a rueful smile. “We have a saying here on Earth: Don’t shoot the messenger.” 

Carol snorted. “Someone should teach that one to the Kree. There’s been a lot of shooting messengers. And stabbing them with knives.” 

Skye shook her head. “You’ve been through a lot, huh? I’m starting to think I got the better end of this switch. Besides, how could I hate you when I don’t even really know you?” 

“Oh. Yeah. I know we just met, but it feels like we have known each other forever, though, right?” Carol looked from Skye to Melinda to Phil. 

Phil shrugged. “It kinda does. We’ve spent decades trying to figure out where you went.” 

“I’ve seen all of your baby pictures,” Melinda added, “but none of my own daughter’s.” 

Carol scrunched up her nose as she answered honestly, “The Kree didn’t really allow the inhumans to have cameras. The approved possessions list was really short for inhumans.” 

“I’m sorry, approved possessions list?” Skye blinked. 

“Yeah…” Carol took in Skye’s apartment again. “Do you not have weekly inspections at Shield?” 

“Not of our homes. Our weapons, sure.”

Carol remembered the way Alexander Pierce had examined her with equal parts fear and greed. “What are you using weapons for? Or, I guess, who?”

Phil stood with his phone in hand, with the screen unlocked. “Okay, I think we’ve had a good talk. Everyone learned a lot. Now who wants some pizza? Carol, there’s a great place down by the pier. We could walk along the ocean. Great view!” 

Carol understood that the conversation was over and dropped it, but Skye noted the diversion with interest. They would definitely be returning to that topic, along with how much she was allowed to tell Carol about Shield. 

They exchanged less sensitive information as they walked down to the beach and along the sidewalk to the pier. Carol had borrowed a pair of Skye’s flip flops and her hair was mostly dry by now in waves, so she fit right in with the Southern California beach aesthetic. To any observer, they just looked like two couples out to dinner—not an alien-raised superpowered human space warrior, a human-raised superpowered inhuman Shield agent, and two high-ranking human Shield agents turned adoptive parents. 

—-------------------- 

After the pizza was eaten and they were bonding like a family reunited, Skye leaned closer to Carol over the empty pizza pan.

“Wanna know a secret?” 

Carol’s breath caught at the way Skye’s tonguetip peeked out between her lips. Carol managed to nod. 

“This place is a Shield favorite. I could point out a dozen Shield agents right now.” 

“Yeah?” Carol looked around. 

“Subtle,” Melinda critiqued. 

Phil had more sympathy. “We’ll work on your spy skills. If you want to join that is.” 

Carol’s jaw dropped. One day and she was already being offered a job. Of course, he could simply be testing her. Trying to keep her close to watch her. It’s what anyone worthy of his position would do. The whole day had been a test, she knew. But it didn’t make it less of an opportunity for a new life. 

“Yes. Yes, I—” 

Carol’s sputtering answer was cut off by two women approaching their table. 

“Hey, Skye, Melinda, Phil,” the pale brunette addressed. “Who’s our new friend?” 

“Recruit, actually,” Phil answered and leaned in to emphasize the name. “This is Carol Danvers.”  

“Uhhh… wait.” The Black woman looked to Phil and back to Carol. “You’re THE Carol Danvers? The missing kid?”

“That’s her,” Skye said with a smile resembling pride. “Carol, meet the Marias. Maria Hill and Maria Rambeau.” She gestured to each as she said their names, and Carol shook their outstretched hands. 

Melinda raised her glass to Maria Hill and said to Carol, “If you do decide to join us, that’s the woman you want to impress. Hill is deputy director of Shield.” 

Carol’s heart raced. “Oh! Sorry. Ma’am!” She didn’t know whether to salute or even what gesture a proper salute was here. She settled for standing at attention instead, garnering snickers from all around her.

“Relax, soldier,” Hill ordered and softened as Carol sat back down sheepishly. “In here, we’re just hanging out. Save that for training. You’re going to need it if Agent May is your supervising officer.” 

Maria Rambeau cleared her throat. “And if you want your pilot license here on earth, Agent May can prepare you for that, but I’m the one clearing you for duty, understood? No more spaceships falling out of the sky. Here, we fly with style.” She winked at Carol.

“Yes, ma’am.” Carol blushed at the way Maria Rambeau was evaluating her already. Part cocky, part skeptical, part … attracted? 

Skye stood, but not out of respect for authority. “I think we should head back to my place. It’s getting dark, and this pier gets weeeeird after dark, trust me.” She pushed in her chair and tilted her head to the door in a hint. 

The Marias picked up on what Skye was doing, even if Carol didn’t, and raised their eyebrows at each other. They picked up their beer bottles from where they’d been resting on the table and held them with a matching cool-girl loose grip around the necks. Carol could tell that as much as old men in suits thought they ran Shield, it was actually this duo who held the real power among the ranks. 

“See y’all at work tomorrow,” Maria Rambeau said to Melinda and Phil. 

“Night,” Phil called after them. 

Melinda simply sent Skye a silent look that said “Really”? 

“What?” Skye mumbled in a protest of innocence.  

Carol missed all of this as she gave the pizza bar a final glance. She couldn’t tell yet who was Shield and who wasn’t. Just one of many skills she would need to learn if she was to fit in not only on this planet, in this city, but in this Shield family. 

Phil and Melinda walked ahead of Carol and Skye down the pier, Phil with his arm lazily around Melinda’s shoulder and her with an arm loose around his waist. A busker girl played an instrument under twilight streetlamps. A guitar, Skye explained and identified the song as Moondance. 

The girls slowed and stopped to watch. Phil turned to check on them when he didn’t hear their chatter behind them. 

“You guys go ahead,” Skye called. “We’ll meet up with you in the morning at work.” 

Melinda nodded and Phil waved, and the girls were alone. 

“This one is called Invisible String,” Skye explained as the busker began to sing. Skye sang along as she got to the chorus, “Isn’t it just so pretty to think, there was some invisible string, tying you to me?” 

Carol wet her bottom lip subconsciously. Skye leaned closer, but then the song ended and someone else who stopped to listen requested the hit country song of the week about a drunken party after leaving an ex. The spell was effectively and definitively broken, so Skye and Carol wandered on, passing performance artists and vendors selling glow-in-the-dark toys and jewelry. 

Farther away from the pier, the waves crashed in the dark void of the night ocean, with only the tiny lights of ships on the horizon to provide a reference point beyond the shore.

It was a perfect illustration: they didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or any day after. The future was just as mysteriously invisible as their pasts. But perhaps together, they could start to shine light on both.

[melmac78]

So… I’ve gotten the date set for the movers, so I have a week and a half before they load up the stuff at old place.

I’m taking today off from there for a news assignment and getting the w/d ordered. Kind of hope that it can be installed tomorrow before I go over to old town; however, it’ll just be nice to not have to take 4 hours to wash one load of laundry. (Repairing may be an option, but given the guy who gave it to me treated it poorly, the fact I was excited I got 5 years out of it said enough.)

I’ll get the electric at old place ended Monday, set end of month, with a note to check if electricity surges after the 28th (I have it in my name until the 30th).

I have found problem with 3rd floor is it’s a bit noisy when windy. Not a major bother though.

The base of my papasan broke, but I’ve MacGyvered a base using a circle chair and ottoman so I can a headrest chair. If I just want a regular chair, the top goes off.

Ash handling stuff better now. She is sitting in her cat tree which makes me happy because she used to hate it. She’s still unsure of being in the city but I can say at least she won’t be trying to go outside. (I’m happy we have a field across the street so it kind of feels like old place for her).

So am happy to be where I am, even if a short move this time (like I said best of all worlds for me.) just all the finicky stuff that’s annoying.

Oh and Ash says hi everyone.

[pwnyta]

My sister had basically a monopoly on the dog since we got her but now Storm has gotten a taste of my comfy papasan and now she gathers her babies (her toys) and puts them on my chair and cuddles up with them AND DOES NOT LEAVE. She loves the spot so god damn much not even asking if she wants to go out for a walk or my sister coming home from work will get her to leave.

When I kick her out at night she just whimpers at my door, with her babies and I feel like a fucking POS landlord but like... I dont trust her to not pee on my floor and I cant sleep with my door open cuz Im too paranoid so...

ALSO I kicked her out the other day for fucking attacking Natasha (who was completely unbothered hilariously enough) but like I guess she gets possessive of people when theyre on a bed? She acts like that with my sister and Steve too I guess... But like I was just laying down and Tasha came to lay down on me and the dog fucking LAUNCHED herself off the chair snarling and I had to grab her by the scruff and take her out of my room. She didnt seem to actually bite too hard or at all? But like... it sounded so VICIOUS and she just kept going after Tasha. I had to pile up her babies and drop them outside my door and again deal with her WHIMPERING but like.. dont attack my cat. Especially my tiniest one. I might have been more lenient had it been Tony because Tonys bigger than Storm but like... not my teeny tiny Tasha.

Honestly the damn dogs lucky I was in bed because had I been sitting at my chair I might have kicked her to save my cat and I would have felt terrible but I love my cat who I raised since she was a little bean more than the dog sorry.

If any dog thinks theyre more important to me than this little CREATURE-

Well.

[marceltheshellwithflipflopson]

🎨❤️✍️

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

oh my gosh, this is such a hard question!!! i think i'd be crazy rampage nuts if i didn't say ellie in her tie dye clothes and margaritaville hat from fisherman hats and carpet stains, though.

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

also a hard question!!! (not because i think i have a giant treasure trove of good lines or anything, more like as soon as the words go from my brain onto a word document i forget all about them lmao). for now, i'll say the ending of american teenager (even though it's not one line): Jackson made it all easier, though. They were allowed to be kind there, allowed to be peaceful. It was something they had to practice, her and Joel. Like flexing a muscle and keeping it flexed. But it was worth it. For Jackson. For home. For taking humanity in one fist and never letting it go.

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

lately, i've been doing most of my writing on my papasan chair. writing fic at a desk makes it feel too much like a job!

the ask game

[assembledpress]

I binged Heartstopper and now I can't stop crying 🍂

After a recommendation from a friend, I started Heartstopper. When I started the first episode, I expected to discover a fun binge-watch with cute characters. What I didn’t expect was a series that would consume my entire weekend and lead to an emotional breakdown on a Saturday evening. 

For those unaware, Heartstopper tells the love story between Nick and Charlie, two teenage boys who are learning to navigate school, friendships, and love. While the first season of the show came out last spring, I was too distracted by Bridgerton’s second season. As a former teenager myself, I have long been a fan of teen dramas of all different varieties; from The Vampire Diaries to High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (HSMTMTS) to Never Have I Ever to The Summer I Turned Pretty to Euphoria. I love the music montages, the fashion, and often, the drama. However, after season three of HSMTMTS, I found myself a bit disillusioned, as the show felt in many ways to be throwing random storylines to the wall to see what might stick. It ended up leaving a bit of a bad taste in my mouth for the entire genre.

But then, my trusted friend’s recommendation of Heartstopper led me to sit for nearly eight hours straight in my papasan chair wondering how I functioned for so long not having this show, its characters, and its storylines in my life. You may be thinking “So you found a show you really liked that is quite popular right now and had a proper binge of it. So what?”. 

For context, I’m a woman nearly two years post-grad who recently married her high school sweetheart, and therefore, I find myself at a point in life where I greatly miss my college friends and am super sensitive to any trope or story about first love or high school romance. What do you mean Peter Parker doesn’t stay with Gwen Stacey forever? In my head, she survives that fall and no one ever mentions MJ. Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez? Definitely happily married living in the suburbs with their athletic singing kiddos. Despite that hopeful romantic side of me, I’ve been informed throughout most of my life by almost all media and a variety of different statistics that first love doesn’t last. During the first several years of my relationship, I felt like people around me were waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering how long we’d last before breaking up. Needless to say, I approached Heartstopper with a pocketful of caution and an expectation for the show to be just like any other melodramatic teen soap I’d seen before. 

Boy was I wrong. Heartstopper approaches its main relationship with the utmost respect for how genuine those teenage butterflies are. It builds slowly, allowing time to focus on the sparks felt when your finger touches your crush’s at lunch, or when you brush shoulders in the hallway. It never takes the cheap way out, never having a character reconnect with a toxic ex, or forcing a drawn-out love triangle. Instead, the show opts to dissect the wholesome nature of a crush turning into an early relationship and eventually, through commitment and care, evolving into a deep love.

Almost as importantly though, Heartstopper emphasizes the love not just in Nick and Charlie’s romantic relationship, but within their friend group. Charlie and Tao’s deep friendship spans years and has equally as deep ups and downs, and the two friends, despite never having any romantic connection, talk about their feelings openly, never being afraid to say “I love you” to one another. 

And thus, my emotional breakdown. I realized through the show’s supportive and loving friend group how much I missed the people who know me best. I found myself reminiscing over the early days of my relationship rather than being present over dinner with the same person. Piled on with the nostalgia and butterflies, I found myself crying with the littlest of provocation, and just feeling in a funk. 

It wasn’t until I finished my first re-watch of the show that I properly processed that it was okay if the show deeply impacted me, and I didn’t need to feel guilty for feeling all those emotions. Despite there being a near-infinite amount of quality content available at my fingertips, this show spoke to my heart, which is an undeniably special thing. Further, Heartstopper is the first show in a while that has prompted me to want to create - to create videos, sketches, paintings, short-form content, playlists, and this written piece. 

To be fair, maybe I’m biased toward the show because my compulsive nature led me to read all the graphic novels and research everything I could about the cast and creator to learn that *spoiler* Nick and Charlie canonically stay together forever. It feels comfortable and safe and representative to me to see a relationship start with a first glance in a classroom and end with 'til death do us part. Regardless, I feel that the show exists to honor how pure first love is, and how much that can impact and shape a person for the rest of their life. Whether it lasts decades or only a few months, first love has a way of irrevocably changing you. It’s something I’ve experienced firsthand and something Heartstopper reminded me of - for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.

[rosie-b]

30, 17, 18, 19, and 1 for the soft get to know you ask game!

1. what song makes you feel better?

Well, I just listened to Gas Gas Gas to get over the funk my delayed/rebooked flight put me in, but it depends! Sometimes Blue Monday (the Baltic House Orchestra version) helps, sometimes an upbeat pop song helps, sometimes a quiet song helps. There's a piano song with my literal name that always makes me feel happy! I go to different songs at different times but I do need music to feel like me, if that makes sense.

17. fairy lights or LED lights?

Fairy lights, because LED ones are way too bright!! But I don't want to have to be the one putting them up hehehe

18. do you still love stuffed animals?

Stuffed animals were never really something I loved, exactly, but I did used to sleep with my favorite one! Her name was Doctor Rose, and she was a pink puppy with a med kit. I think she got too old and we had to get rid of her, but she was the stuffed animal I connected the most with, maybe because she was a gift from my older sister. Nowadays I have a couple of stuffed animals, but no strong bond with them, though I am protective of them.

19. most important thing in your life?

ooh, tough one. I am religious (not talking about what it is, dw), so there's that, but I don't know if there's One Thing I could call most important to me, even keeping it on the non-religious side. I value community, I value the idea that humans are mostly good and that there will always be someone there to help and someone who remembers you, even if they don't know your name. That's not a material thing though XD

Dark chocolate. Let's go with dark chocolate :D

30. what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

Hot tea, the smell of lavender, chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, my headphones/music, a soft papasan/round/bowl chair, cats (my cat especially), and flowers and springtime!

Thanks for the ask @luckychatons! <3