#foggy writes

[foggyfanfic]

Vent Post about Writing Woes

They weren't lying when they said middles are hard. Just finished part one of my current big project, and I got part two mapped out in a very broad sense, but I just, I am struggling. I am writing the same version of the scene below the cut for the third time and I don't know if I'm happy with version three either. I love this AU I've come up with, and I love the ending I have planned, and other than the fact I wish I had a team of researchers to help me with historical accuracy I love the world building I've done, but this scene! I've tried skipping ahead a little, and coming back to it, I can write it out again and again but each time it just doesn't hit the write notes and I love the character interactions but it's just not... it doesn't have quite the right punch.

This is the version I definitely won't be using, because as much as I love Leandra, when I decided I would reuse my OC's for this AU it was more because I needed side characters, not a protagonist. She's too centered in a scene that is ultimately supposed to be about Pepa, her anxieties, and her relationship with her family. The current iteration I'm trying is just between her and Bruno, time will tell if that sticks for me.

Anyways, I'm just venting, I'm frustrated; context (including the scene in question) under the cut.

Context: The premise of the AU is that Pepa is a Disney Princess tm except instead of a Disney movie her story is a political intrigue set in the Disney Princess Extended Universe (the DPEU if you will). In Disney Princess tradition I have come up with a fake country that is totally not Colombia in the same way Arandelle is totally not Norway or Denmark. It is ultimately an 1850-60's Pepa/Felix fake dating AU and in the scene below Leandra is in the process of being pulled into the Madrigals' orbit because I needed a character to play spy, she's pretending to be a man because 1) plot reasons and 2) I had an idea for the funniest idiots to lovers plot for her and Bruno.

The next morning, Leandra was woken by one of the Madrigal sisters shouting, “You agreed to do what?!”

Leandra drummed the fingers of her good hand on the blankets of her borrowed bed, then decided that yes, she was more nosy than was ultimately sensible and she needed to know what had been agreed to and why it was shocking. Or she would die, probably.

She grabbed the medallion holding her glamor off the bedside table and put it on, then grabbed her trousers off the bed post and stepped into them. When she peeked her head out her door she briefly made eye contact with Bruno, who was doing the same, then immediately whipped her head towards his sisters in hopes that he wouldn’t see her blush. The witch had said the glamor would basically just be her, but male, so she couldn’t count on it to hide her expressions. Anything more complicated would have been out of her budget and would have taken too long.

“-not that big a deal, geez Juli, you’re acting like I joined a death cult. And look, you woke up Bruno. And…”

“Raul,” Leandra supplied.

“Right… Raul.”

“You agreed to ‘fake’ court the king, who you happen to have a crush on, knowing damn well becoming queen would be your worst nightmare,” Julieta said, crossing her arms, “it might not be joining a death cult, but it’s certainly a brain dead decision.”

“It’s to help draw out whoever’s trying to kill Bruno!”

“How does uh how does you making yourself the protagonist of a cheesy romance novel draw out the person trying to kill me?”

“Maybe the killer likes romance novels,” Leandra said before she could think better of it, “have we tried leaving a few under a box propped up by a stick?”

Both Julieta and Pepa sent them “shut up” looks, so Leandra raised her hands in surrender and backed into her borrowed room. She left the door cracked open while she tied her sash and buckled her belt, so she could continue eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I am actually confused,” Bruno said, “h-how does this draw out the person trying to kill me?”

“By putting a target on your sister’s back,” Minister Alma’s voice joined the conversation, dripping with disapproval, “if the purpose of these assassination attempts is to weaken this kingdom, our killer will go after anyone the king shows signs of potentially marrying.”

“Which is exactly why it needs to be me. Because I can protect myself.”

Leandra nodded along with Pepa a little. She had heard tales of how powerful Pepa was, only an idiot would attack her. She frowned and popped her head back out.

“Everybody knows you can shoot lightning, the fact that it’s you might actually dissuade any attempts,” she pointed out, accidentally cutting off whatever Minister Alma was about to say.

The minister did not seem put out by the interruption however, instead she gestured at Leandra and said, “That’s an excellent point. You doing this might not even work. It’s entirely likely that the only thing that will come out of this is a broken heart.”

Pepa scowled at Leandra, “Oh, who asked you?”

“Um, kind of sort of the king,” Leandra said, shrugging her good shoulder, “he wants me to help catch the guy so…”

“I thought he wanted you to guard me?” Bruno said, then sputtered, cheeks bright red, “n-not that-! I-I mean, that’s j-just what he told me, you don’t have to-.”

“Both, technically,” Leandra said, trying to spare the poor man the embarrassment of further rambling, “he wants me to do both.”

“Ah,” Bruno said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ah-ha!” Pepa suddenly shouted, pointing a finger at Julieta.

Julieta scowled at her, “No! No 'ah-ha', I didn’t say anything!”

“But I saw it, I saw that look on your face, you just had a thought you don’t want me to know about. Probably because it’d prove that I should totally do this!”

“You don’t know that, maybe I was just thinking that your hair is stupid,” Julieta sniffed, pointing her nose in the air.

“Your hair is stupid,” Pepa retorted.

“Girls,” Alma said, sighing deeply, “you’re adults.”

“Exactly, I’m an adult, which means I get to make my own decisions and I’ve decided to try and trap the asshole trying to kill my brother.”

“Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you’re a smart adult, apparently,” Julieta said.

“Except I am a smart adult, and you know it, because you just had ‘Pepa has a point’ face,” Pepa accused.

Julieta didn’t say anything, she just scowled at her sister.

Leandra shuffled her feet, examining Julieta, then slowly guessed at what Julieta had been thinking, “Having Pepa on his arm will probably dissuade any attempts to attack the king directly?”

Julieta whipped her head around to scowl at Leandra again, “Oh, who asked you!”

“The king did,” Pepa said, smugly, “and it is another excellent point. Thank you…”

“Raul,” Leandra reminded her.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Thank you Raul.”

“It might be an excellent point, but it is one that contradicts your stated reason for doing this,” Alma huffed, “you can not help draw out our killer if you are also dissuading them from acting through your mere presence.”

Pepa frowned, but apparently didn’t have an argument ready for that.

“Are uh are you sure you’re not just doing this so you have an excuse to flirt with the king?” Bruno asked.

From the way Pepa grimaced, Leandra knew that was at least part of it. From the way she set her jaw, Leandra could tell it was only part of it.

“No,” Pepa said, then spent a few seconds struggling to find the words.

“You want to help and don’t know how?” Leandra asked.

“Sí,” Pepa said, at first triumphant, happy to have the words handed to her, then a little sheepishly, “sí, I… hate that somebody is trying to hurt my brother and I don’t want to just wait around for each assassin they send. I want to stop them. Don’t you guys?”

“Not if it puts you in danger,” Bruno immediately huffed, drawing Leandra’s attention. He had taken her by surprise before, so she studied him carefully while he spoke, “the last thing I want is you putting yourself in danger for my sake.”

“Well the last thing I want is for you to be in danger, so I guess you’re just going to have to deal.”

“Except you’re out voted, I would also like it if you didn’t put yourself in danger,” Julieta said.

“Sí. If I had my way, none of you would be in any danger, ever. It’s one thing that outside forces keep endangering your brother, I don’t need you endangering yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Pepa waved their concerns off, “and even better, I will be involved in the investigation. I won’t have to wait around and hope, I’ll be doing something. That’s- you can’t stop me.”

Leandra leaned against the doorframe and watched the other occupants of the room to see who would break against Pepa’s stubborn will first. She expected Minister Alma to be the strongest hold out, but she broke second after Julieta, it was Bruno who held out the longest. But eventually he sighed and shook his head, then turned back into his room.

See what I mean? Leandra is too centered. Tried writing the same argument without her there but then I have to make the Madrigals way better at communicating with each other as a whole than they would be. That's how I arrived at doing this one on one, if their dysfunctional family is anything like mine then they are way better at talking to each other in pairs than they are all together. It's going fine but I'll have to see if it's still fine when I've finished writing this scene again, I'll have to see if the mood flows from the chapter before this one, into this, into the chapter after this well. Then I'll go from there.

Ugh! Whatever. I refuse to give up on this AU but part two is definitely kicking my ass! Might continue ranting about this one to help myself stay motivated, because I will finish this one. I will.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ “i can’t…” prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ “i can’t believe you lied to me.”

²⁾ “i can’t do this anymore.”

³⁾ “i can’t talk about it. i want to, please believe me, but i’m just not ready.”

⁴⁾ “i can’t sleep. mind if i join you?”

⁵⁾ “i can’t stay with [name] when i still have these feelings for you.”

⁶⁾ “i can’t wrap my mind around why it happened.”

⁷⁾ “i can’t be the only one who sees how she looks at you.”

⁸⁾ “i can’t keep putting you in danger! being with me isn’t worth your life- you must realise that!”

⁹⁾ “i can’t find it in myself to care anymore.”

¹⁰⁾ “i can’t watch.”

¹¹⁾ “i can’t stand by and look on while you keep putting yourself through this.”

¹²⁾ “i can’t keep this from them and you knew that when you told me!”

¹³⁾ “i can’t stop seeing it. every time i close my eyes it’s like i’m right back there, reliving it over and over with no way to change the outcome.”

¹⁴⁾ “i can’t believe you remembered.”

¹⁵⁾ “i can’t face them on my own- please come with me.”

¹⁶⁾ “i can’t be with you like that. not anymore.”

¹⁷⁾ “i can’t tell you how much i appreciate this.”

¹⁸⁾ “i can’t break the lock! how are we going to get out of here?!”

¹⁹⁾ “i can’t stand him. please bail me out of this, i’ll owe you forever.”

²⁰⁾ “i can’t shake the feeling that something bad’s about to happen.”

²¹⁾ “i can’t keep lying to everyone… it’s killing me.”

²²⁾ “i can’t possibly ever tell you just how much i adore you, but i’ll damn well spend the rest of our lives trying to.”

²³⁾ “i can’t bear that prick.”

²⁴⁾ “i can’t believe you drinking straight bourbon in a paddling pool isn’t the weirdest thing i’ve seen this morning.”

²⁵⁾ “i can’t get to you, and neither can the team. you’re- you’re gonna have to make it out of there on your own, kid.”

²⁶⁾ “i can’t get passed over for this promotion again, not after working myself like a goddamn dog to see it happen.”

²⁷⁾ “i can’t be expected to feign interest in a conversation whilst you look as good as this, now can i?”

²⁸⁾ “i can’t walk in there dressed like this- in your clothes!”

²⁹⁾ “i can’t shake the feeling that something bad’s about to happen.”

³⁰⁾ “i can’t believe a bullet wound still isn’t enough to get you to lay off those stupid pickup lines.”

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 29]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.4k

ao3 link

Foggy never thought he would be babysitting Matthew Murdock’s kid.

As much as Foggy loves Matt - and it is a lot - he is the first to admit his best friend is more than a bit of a disaster. Matt is brilliant and kind and truly a good soul, but he is also a self-destructive idiot with more baggage than any airport in the nation. He always tries to do the right thing, but the right thing never seems to involve taking care of himself. And that doesn’t even include all the Daredevil bullshit.

If Matt had come to him a few months ago and told Foggy he wanted to be a father - to go out and have a kid at that exact moment - Foggy would have beat him over the head with the nearest solid object. Matt can barely run his own life - there was no way he could raise a child.

Matt was still working on even managing to have friends and a real life outside of his mask and his ability to balance it all had been on thin ice. Matt getting into a serious relationship had been a laughable idea and that relationship leading to a baby wasn’t even a thought. 

As far as Foggy had been concerned, as long as he was Daredevil, Matt was destined to be a bachelor. 

So, of course, God’s favorite punching bag was told he already is a father. 

The change in Matt isn’t what Foggy expected. He expected panic. He expected Matt to be in Church for eight hours a day praying for guidance while he had a crisis. He expected Matt to spiral.

He hadn’t expected him to take to being a father like a duck to water. He hadn’t expected it to completely rewrite his best friend’s DNA. 

It seemed like overnight the dumpster fire of a man he knew was replaced - born from those ashes was someone who Foggy almost didn’t recognize. 

It was a Matt who cares about himself. One who isn't being reckless. One who no longer hides things from Foggy and Karen, who lies about injuries and thinks he is a one-man army. 

In the office, if Matt isn’t working, he’s listening to self-help or parenting books. He talks to other people, and he actually makes an effort to not look like he’s getting abused. He’s focused in a way Foggy hasn’t seen since college and it makes Foggy so so happy. 

But it also terrifies him because he doesn’t know how long it will last. Is this a temporary change or has Matt finally learned he isn’t alone, and his actions affect others?

It is too early to tell and Foggy feels like a complete asshole for doubting his friend and waiting for the ball to drop, but he feels like he’s also being realistic. 

Matt has hurt him so much over their friendship - and Foggy has hurt him, too - and his sweet angel of a child doesn’t deserve to have that be a possibility for her. 

As far as Foggy can tell, Minnie inherited all the best parts of Matt - his smile, his charm, and his inherently good nature. He knows if Matt doesn’t manage to fuck it up - and Foggy prays he doesn’t - she is going to grow up to be a beautiful woman, heart and soul, with no reason to yell at God. 

He couldn’t ask for a better little girl to babysit. 

All she wants to do is watch Lady and the Tramp over and over and Foggy couldn’t be happier to oblige. It is easy to sit back and watch the movie - he hasn't seen it in a long time, and he forgot how charming all the characters are.

It is halfway through the third viewing of the movie when big brown eyes finally tear themselves away from the screen. Foggy watches curiously as Minnie slips off the couch and toddles over to her toy chest in the corner of the room. She methodically begins going through her things, lifting up each toy and giving it a good once over before setting it back down.

“What’cha doing, squirt?” he asks.

Minnie does not look back to him as she replies, her tone making him feel like it is the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m gonna make dinner.” 

Dinner was had before Foggy arrived for babysitting duty, so he guesses it is time for some make believe. He is very much used to this from watching over his nieces and he wonders what kind of play will be in store for him. 

The first toy she deems worthy to have a seat at the table is a Barbie and the second, almost immediately after, is a floppy looking bear that clearly has had another life before this one. The pair are transported to the coffee table and delicately sat down before Minnie whips her head around to look up at Foggy.

“They need says-or-eases,” she says seriously. He can barely get out a confused ‘okay’ before she’s scampering down the hallway to the bedroom. He decides to sit and wait to see what is going to happen. Moments later, the little girl is back in the living room with an armful of supplies. He can make out a lot of costume jewelry, and among the fake pearls and gems, a pair of fake glasses. 

It is all dumped in front of the table unceremoniously before she is off to collect something else. 

Foggy stays on the couch as markers and a variety of play food join the pile on the floor. He has no idea what could be going on in the mind of the toddler, but it is amusing that she is so determined in her task.

Finally, everything is gathered and Minnie plops down in front of her toys, mouth turned down as she focuses. She starts sorting through things, making multiple little piles, and Foggy can’t help but ask, “Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m a Big Girl,” she replies factually, not even bothering to look up. She’s completely locked in on whatever it is she is doing, and since she’s doing nothing deemed risky, Foggy lets his eyes go back to the movie. 

As Lady roams the streets of some unnamed city, Minnie dresses up her toys. Barbie gets draped in so many necklaces her torso is no longer visible, and the bear gets the glasses. She hums and haws over the positioning on his muzzle for a good minute before she takes them off and disappears from Foggy’s eyeline. Her feet pop up a second later and he determines she is laying tummy down on the ground.

He checks his phone as she plays - replying to messages from Marci and Karen and going through a few work emails. 

He is in the middle of checking his calendar when Minnie’s curls reappear in front of him and she is back to trying to balance the glasses on the bear’s face.

Except, now, the lens of the glasses have been colored over in red marker and Foggy knows exactly who the floppy bear is meant to be.

“Is that your Daddy?” he asks, not at all containing the glee in his voice. Karen is going to Love this. 

“Uh-huh,” the baby tells him as she finally manages to get the accessory to stay on. She grabs the doll next and holds it up to show it off. “This is Mommy.”

“That’s Mommy?” Foggy confirms. He quickly switches his phone over to his camera app to start taking a million and a half pictures.

“Uh-huh. They are on a date. Like Lady and Tramp,” she explains, “We gotta make them dinner.”

His heart absolutely soars and he knows this is one of those stories he is going to tell everyone - Matt’s precious little daughter pretending her toys are her parents on a date, while her real parents are out on their first date. It is some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen and he’s glad he’s the one who agreed to babysit. 

He pushes himself up into standing, so ready to get in on this make believe action, “Of course. What are we making them for dinner?”

They spend the next five minutes rearranging things - the play kitchen set is moved into the real kitchen and Foggy drapes a throw blanket between two chairs so the dining guests can’t see the food being prepared. Mommy Doll and Daddy Bear get a plastic Pooh Bear plate between them, and an LED candle is scrounged up to give the date the right ambience. 

Foggy gets designated as the Waiter - he even slicks his hair back and lets Minnie draw a pencil mustache under her nose and she, of course, is the Chef, as well as puppeteer of the toys. 

Once everything is set up - the make believe begins.

“Oh, ho, hon,” Foggy says in a horrible French accent as he kneels beside the coffee table, a pad of paper and a pen in hand. “What a lovely couple! You are looking so beautiful this evening, mademoiselle!” 

“Thank you!” Minnie chimes, altering her voice just a little to be higher as she takes hold of the doll to make it bounce as it ‘talks’. “You are beauty-fulls too!” She then grabs the bear with her other hand and shakes him just a bit, making him sound gruff as he chastises, “What about me?”

“You are as handsome as ever, sir,” is his cheesy reply. With too much flourish, he brings up his pen and positions it on his paper, “What drinks can I get started for you? Water? Juice? Wine? May I suggest a bit of hot cocoa?” He over emphasizes the last word, making the little girl start to giggle.

“We don’ts have cocoa! Only water and appy juice!”

Foggy dramatically throws his hand over his heart, “My apologies! The chef has let me know our options tonight are Water de Aqua and Appy Juice.”

“We want appy juice!” Daddy Bear tells him, and he makes sure to write the order in nice big letters.

“A wonderful selection, sir! We get it from the finest grocer, and it is chilled to perfection. Shall I get you started with some appetizers?”

Minnie squints over to him, tilting her head to the side and doing a wonderful impression of Matt as she asks, “What is an appy-tiger?”

“It is a snack you get before dinner, so you don’t get hungry while the Chef makes the food,” he explains in his normal voice. 

The toddler nods like she really understands what he means, then she turns her two toys to face each other. Mommy Doll is moved first, “Do you want an appy-tiger?” 

Daddy Bear’s head nods as Minnie grumbles out, “I want a cheese stick and ice-cream. Please, thank you.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Mommy Doll replies. She is turned towards Foggy so hard her necklaces clatter together, “I want a cheese stick, too. Please, thank you.”

He writes down the request and promises, “That will be right out.” As he pushes himself up onto his feet, Minnie streaks past him to get to her kitchen before him. He purposefully takes his time, letting her get herself set up before he arrives. “Order up! We got two cheese sticks and an ice cream for the couple at table one.”

“Two cheese sticks and ice cream!” The little girl calls back excitedly. She moves to start digging through her plastic food, but then she freezes, and she gets a look on her face Foggy has seen so many times on Matt’s that he’s lost count.

She’s heard something. 

Before Foggy can ask what it is, the unmistakable sound of a fuse being blown fills the air and the power dies, leaving them in a deep darkness. A brief panic takes a hold of him - he’s been in far too many situations where this sort of thing means danger - but logic prevails, and he rushes over to the window to assess the damage. 

The neighboring buildings still have their lights on, so someone in the building must have overloaded something. It happens all the time in the heat of the summer and not a cause for him to go into fight or flight mode.

“Looks like it is just us,” he tells Minnie as he turns back to her. He can only just barely make out her outline - there is only one window in the room, and it faces an alley. There is next to no light filtering in and the only thing still going in the apartment is the weak LED candle.

He expects Minnie to be scared - after all the sudden lack of light is kind of terrifying - but she seems completely unaffected. 

“The tee-vee turned off,” is what she replies with, sounding annoyed as can be. 

“Everything turned off,” Foggy counters. “We’ve got no electricity. We have to wait for it to come back on.”

He hears her huff as he makes his way back to the couch. He’s careful as he moves, not wanting to accidentally crush any of the playthings that have been spread around. 

“Do you still want to play Dinner Date?” He asks. It is pretty dark, but if they just stick with going between the couch and the fake-kitchen, he thinks things should be okay. 

“No, I wanna watch Lady and Tramp.” There is a slight whine in her voice that makes him think this might turn into tears and his heart breaks a little. He doesn’t want to be the one to deny her anything. 

“The power is out, squirt. The television isn’t going to work. We have to do something that doesn’t require power.” 

“Why?” He can hear the underlying Murdock Anger in her question, and he notes it is something he’ll have to tell Matt.

“Do you know how it usually makes this sort of noise?” Foggy asks before humming. He can sometimes hear electricity, so he knows she must know what he’s talking about. She confirms with a little ‘uh-huh’ and he continues on. “Well, that means it is getting power and can work. It’s not getting power right now, so it can’t work.”

He hopes the logic makes sense in her little brain. 

She doesn’t respond right away and that worries him. He plucks the little LED candle up from the coffee table and holds it up like a torch. It barely casts enough light for him to see his hand and does nothing to help him locate the curly haired toddler. 

He walks slowly over to the kitchen, hoping to find her pouting by her toys, but the area is empty. He did not hear the pitter patter of feet and groans at the thought of another ninja in his life. 

Of course, Matt’s child would be able to sneak around in the dark undetected. Why wouldn’t she?

“Minnie,” he calls out softly, hoping this doesn’t turn into a game of hide and seek. “Where are you?” 

He turns in place, trying to remember if he left his phone on the table or on the couch. The battery is in the forty percent zone, and he’d rather save it than use it as a light source. He’s pretty sure he was told there are flashlights under the sink, but he can’t remember if it was the kitchen or bathroom sink. 

He decides to try the kitchen sink first and blindly makes his way there. He admittedly doesn’t have the best vision anymore and his eyes are taking forever to adjust to the meager amount of light, so he has to move slowly.

“Will you read me Lady and Tramp?” a tiny voice suddenly asks from right beside his knee and Foggy totally doesn’t scream.

“You totally need a bell,” he tells the child before rubbing at his face with his candle free hand. “If you help me find a flashlight, I can read to you.”

The noise of annoyance Minnie makes is right from Matt’s playbook, “why do you needs a flashlight?”

He wonders if this is the first power outage she has experienced, but if that was so, he doubts he would have been told where the flashlights were. Though, Minnie’s mom is a bit paranoid and anxious, so it could have been a ‘just in case’ thing, but who really knows.

It is a question for later. Right now, he has an annoyed toddler ready to bite his ankles over Lady and the Tramp.

“It’s too dark for me to read,” he tries to explain, hoping she will accept the answer. 

She doesn’t.

Instead, he gets sassed.

“It’s not dark.”

“It is, too,” he counters. 

He can perfectly picture little hands-on hips as she doubts him, “Not-uh.”

He resists the urge to say ‘uh-huh’ and attempts to rationalize with her, “Mouse, I can barely see past my nose. It’s too dark for me to read to you without a flashlight. Can you help me find one?”

He can just see her curly head of hair looking up at him and he doesn’t need to see her face to feel her judgement. With the huff so haughty it could rival Marci, Minnie plops down to the ground and drops something that sounds like a picture book in front of her. 

His suspicions are proved right when he hears the soft fluttering of pages. 

“El…ay..dee..why. El..ay..La! La..dee…Lay..dee..Lady!” Her little voice is full of frustration as she tries to sound out the word Foggy knows she can’t really see and his heart pangs in sympathy.

“Minnie, don’t strain your eyes. Let’s just find a flashlight, it’s too dark to read.”

“I want Lady and Tramp!” The little Murdock barks at him, “I can reads it!” He hears what must be her finger hitting the page and he pictures her trying to trace the words. “La..La..lady. Lady. wuh…wuh..double-you ay ess. Wuh…Wuh-ah…Wuh-ah..”

“Was?” he tries to supply, feeling so guilty. He should just step away and find the flashlight before she really hurts her eyes, but he doesn’t want to leave her when she’s getting into a mood, even if it’s a few feet.

Apparently, helping is not what she wants, because he instantly gets her tiny wrath, “I can reads it myselfs!”

Foggy’s hands shoot up in front of him in the universal ‘my bad’ pose and he apologies, “I’m sorry. Let me get the light and we can read together.” He decides, if anything, he’ll just go grab his phone and waste the battery. Anything is better than upsetting Minnie the first time he properly babysits her. She’ll never want to stay with him again and he’s pretty sure Matt would easily bend to her will. 

“But I can sees it!” She practically yells it at him, her voice getting wet and wobbly. There is a hint of desperation in it that makes Foggy feel like an absolute villain for not believing her. “I can sees it and reads it by myself!”

He gives up on trying to convince her and pivots to go to get his phone. As he carefully steps around her to find his way back to the couch, she picks up her watery ‘reading’ again.

“La..Lady wuh-was a…Lady was a..el..el you..el you see kay…”

Foggy locates his phone on the coffee table and it wakes up as soon as he picks it up. The light hurts his eyes, and he has to look away so he isn’t blinded by it. 

Daddy Bear looks up at him from his interrupted coffee table date, beady little black eyes hidden behind red lenses and so suddenly, with enough force to cause him mental whiplash, Foggy feels like a complete idiot. 

He turns to shine his phone on Minnie, who is hunched over her book, trying her very best to sound out the words. 

“See..Kay…Luh…Luh..see..kay..why..Luh see kay why.”

She is trying to read the word ‘lucky ’he realizes. He knows kids can memorize stories, but there’s no way such a little baby can memorize how to spell all the words and pretend to read them out loud. 

But this isn’t just any normal little baby. 

This is Matt Murdock’s little baby. 

Matt Murdock - who has enhanced senses and passed them on. 

Matt Murdock - who is blind and wouldn’t know what it would be like to have enhanced eyesight. 

“Holy shit,” Foggy says to himself. “She’s got dark vision.”

--

a/n :

i'm sorry, this chapter fought me so much. Foggy refuses to cooperate with me :( this is nothing like i was planning and I kinda hate it

--

tags:

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13 @hashcakes

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[laurachouettepoetry]

WE ARE OUR OWN CREATION

How high a sinful mind can wander before it reaches heaven?

How deep a second love can run before it is forgiven?

How many lines a poet can write before being criticised?

How many lines can a painter create before being copied?

I say, there is no limit to any of these for we are still our own creation.

- LAURA CHOUETTE

[aiktad]

"you don't actually take selfshipping seriously, right?" i do yeah. im holding the plushie i named after him. we're watching roblox video essays until my melatonin kicks in

[sunflowersandsapphires]

hello my darling love i would like to purchase a peony!

Matt and Foggy trying to cook dinner in college once they finally get a room with access to a kitchen 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

i just think they’d both be hilariously clueless

Flinching at the sound of thick metal slabs clanging together, you dug your nails into clammy palms. “Are you sure you don’t need any help in there?”

”NO!“ ”All good, bug!“ Were the two responses that flew from the warm light of the kitchen, the men yelling them still concealed by the thin wall separating you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you willed your anxiety to quiet, running through the quickest route out of the building in case a fire broke out. Which seemed far too likely at this point.

You couldn't blame the boys for their excitement, living a whole year without a kitchen must've been torture. But you didn't quite trust the pair of them with knives. Or open flames.

Unfortunately for your anxiety, they'd insisted on cooking you dinner when you got back to town. It was sweet and so adorably them that you agreed to the idea, only regretting it when their smoke alarm was set off. For the third time.

Abandoning the code of manners you'd been bound by, you darted into the kitchen, fanning a hand in front of your face to waft the pale smoke away from your nose. Blinking through the sudden irritatant assaulting your vision, you made out the shadowy outlines of your two best friends, the shorter of the pair straining to reach the ceiling to reset the smoke detector. Poor Matt had his hands mashed over his ears, hunching further and further in on himself as the white disc shrieked from above.

Jogging past Foggy, you placed a hand on Matt's shoulder, leading him out of the room when he toppled into you with a whine. Once you'd half-walked, half-carried Matt over to their second-hand couch, the beeping ceased. Both of you sighed heavily, tilting farther into each other's space with relief.

”Ow,“ Matt chuckled weakly, nudging your pulse point with his nose.

Humming sympathetically, you brushed his fringe from his forehead. ”You should take some aspirin before you get a migraine.“

”I would, but all my stuff is still in boxes.“ He murmured with a shudder.

”Well,” Foggy entered the room, looking like a weary housewife with a scorched tea towel hanging over his shoulder and a fraying apron tied around his waist. “Chicken's toast. No coming back from that. Ideas?”

“Pizza?” Matt suggested, his voice still hushed, as if he were still hearing the beeping and his vocal chords hadn't adjusted.

“I could eat pizza.” You agreed, stomach grumbling its assent. Looking to Foggy, you beamed at him when he gave a firm nod.

“Great plan kids. Hang tight.” Whipping out his phone, he paced toward an armchair while dialing.

“Probably for the best,” Matt remarked with a smirk. “There was no way you were making it out tonight without food poisoning if we cooked for you.”

With a shrug, you elbowed him gently. “Cut yourself some slack, trouble. You have plenty of time to practice.”

[e-nonsense]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟'𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵. 𝘻𝘦𝘳𝘰

prev / next | masterlist

pairing. batfam x batsis!reader + platonic!matt murdock x batsis!reader

warnings. swearing, child neglect, mentions of an accident that makes you blind, canon/typical violence, nothing goes with comics

series masterlist

You got to Gotham city when you were five, you didn't want to go but you had no choice your mother was dead, and had left you in the care of your father.

But even at five years old your father had no time for you. Always busy with the public, or with Batman.

At the time Dick was fifteen, he had no reason to care for a little sister, but Jason. Oh Jason Todd, to you he was an angel.

Your big brother who at eight years old you deemed cooler than Dick Grayson.

Everyday after patrol, he'd come up and check on you, tell you a story usually a more child friendly version of his missions.

You kept him grounded, you made all his anger go away, an anger you blamed Bruce for because when you two first met he wasn't angry he was a happy kid. Everytime you called his name, the soft mutter of "Jay" would knock some sense into him.

But after the accident, the one you went blind, you were nine nearly ten and Jason would stay fifteen, in that year you had lost two things.

Your sight, and your big brother.

You were often met with pity than concern because of it. Everyone always asking if you were alright, but never truly caring about the answer.

You heard about the headlines when it happened, "Y/n Wayne, gone blind" or "Gotham's little princess now Gotham's latest victim"

It's not like they actually cared, no of course not they only gave a shit about the publicity they'd get from selling stories like this.

You were only nine years old, you'd think five years would be enough to adjust.

Apparently not..

"Miss Wayne" you heard a gentle knocking at the door of your father's office- well it's your office now. Bruce signed Wayne Industries off to you, because it would make everyone's lives easier if you (someone they deemed quite useless) were actually doing something important, it gave them more vigilante time. Besides you finished school already, you were a smart kid, always top of your class you managed to skip a couple of grades and graduate early like super early.

You were a disappointed when nobody but Alfred turned up, then again you'd stopped caring about that a while ago. Jason - your beloved zombie brother - wouldn't stop apologising, and he took you for ice-cream and hung out with you for the rest of the night as an apology. You couldn't stay mad at him.

"Yes?" you'd been running the company for a few weeks, Alfred was usually helping you. Reading out things that weren't in braille, but since the first thing you did when you got Wayne Industries was buy braille embossers mainly 'cause you knew Alfred would always be there to help you with everything.

"Sorry to disturb you Miss, but y'know that guy that you fired last week?"

"Yeah, the one that was caught uh- having sex in the storage room right?"

"The very same Miss" if you could see right now Tani's face would be littered with pink on her cheeks, "He wants to sue"

"And?" you groaned, that came out harsher that you intended, you could sense that she understood.

"Well he's got a pretty compelling case against the company. When your father owned it that is, very incriminating"

"shit" you muttered under your breath, mentally thanking any godly being out their that Alfred wasn't there to hear you.

"how hard is it to get a good lawyer?"

"No" Matt's voice was firm, he didn't want to take the case and nobody could make him.

"no what do you mean, no" Foggy didn't get it, I mean he sort of did but you were offering a nice pay- like more than what's in their pay grade- but it had nothing to do with criminal law, sort of.

"I don't want to do it Foggy, it has nothing to do with my job or qualifications"

"I'm going to do it then"

"No" Foggy wasn't even listening, he had already walked out of the room and went to reply to the email your secretary had sent to him and various other lawyers.

Foggy stepped up to Tani's desk- Matt beside him- and smiled, eying to the elevator that led all the way up to your office, two security guards on each side. You had put them there for Tani because when she didn't let people up they'd harass her.

"Hi, we're here to see Miss Wayne" Foggy's voice only slightly louder than the crappy music in the background. Tani looked up, "name?"

"Nelson, Foggy Nelson"

For the first time since they arrived Matt talked, but only to utter his name.

"Through the elevator please"

They walked as silently as possible, neither in the mood to talk to one another. Once they were inside and going up Matt was talking.

"Y'know kid’s probably just gonna be another spoilt rich kid, who's daddy running the business behind their back because they can't do shit"

Foggy only let out a sigh, and walked through the elevator doors when he saw it open, only to reveal another door, one he assumed led to your office.

He was shocked to hear laughter coming from inside the room, what ever happened to professionalism?

"Alfie, I swear this guy was high-"

Matt heard a this 'Alfie' guy chuckle "Miss Wayne you can't say that about them, they're lawyers that came hear to help you"

"I know I know, but you should've seen them" you exaggerated the word seen and it made Alfred laugh.

But the laughter stopped when Foggy knocked on the door and Alfred cleared his through smiling while gesturing for them to come in.

"Oh my god, she's blind Matt" Foggy whispered, as he watched you move from leaning on the desk and stood up straight.

"Sorry I'd shake your hand but I'm not exactly sure where you are"

Matt smiled at that "Don't worry 'bout it, 'cause I don't know where you are either"

"He's blind" Foggy not so discreetly whispered to you.

"I can see that" you whispered back with a chuckle, you cleared you throat "now onto business then?"

"Of course"

Okay maybe Matt was a little wrong about you, alright very wrong about you. You were nothing like he imagined, but then again he hadn't put much thought to what you might be like.

He could tell that you could handle yourself, and that impressed him a lot. He could also tell that you were still grasping the ropes of being blind.

And well he wanted to help you, to train you. He thought it was funny, him training someone but he wanted to try. Maybe you could be the next Daredevil.... scratch that he didn't want that for you.

Now how is someone supposed to reveal a secret identity to a complete stranger?

ᴛᴀɢ/ꜱ: @fandxmslxt69 @jaguarthecat @bxdbxtxh15 @byebyeeye @8-29pm

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[etiamverba]

Went for a walk and got lost in the fog

[demonzoro]

anyone got art/writing/life goals for the new year?

[amhrosina]

oh god, i made more. i can’t stop. here’s more marvel textposts (seriously sos i can’t stop).

[foggyfanfic]

Fixations

Summary: Once upon a time, all over the world, nobody knew how brains worked. We knew they were there, we knew if you take the brain out of a person the person stops working, but we didn't know all the ways a brain could be sick or disordered. Once upon a time, people weren't autistic, they were quirky, or eccentric, or creepy, or weird.

Or: I play around with what being mentally ill in an isolated, magic village is like, while also exploring how the Madrigals might come off to the rest of the villagers.

Adelaide

It wasn’t like she had expected school to be uniquely horrible, on the contrary she had expected school to be exactly as horrible as most things were. She had expected people to tell her she was too quiet, too serious, a little creepy. She had expected people not to get her jokes, not to care about the book she’d last read, not to sit with her and allow her to just be there without contributing to the conversation. She had expected school to be more of the same.

But it wasn’t. And she knew exactly why.

The first day of school had started out pretty much as she expected. The other children were off put by her lack of smiles, by her overly precise words, by her even tone. Somebody, she wasn’t sure who, decided that she must be a doll brought to life.

On a side note, this was how Adelaide learned that she was something called “pretty”. It was not a word she’d ever heard in her home life and at six years old she had only read nonfiction books that described things with much more precision than the other children were capable of. But she was duly informed that she was very pretty and very expressionless, and very short, and that made them think she was some sort of creepy living doll. She would later look up “pretty” in the dictionary and be a little flattered. None of the adults who had called her too serious or creepy had ever tacked on a compliment as well.

But other than being called pretty, the day started exactly the way she expected it to based off of her limited experiences. The other children did not like her, and they avoided her other than to inform her they did not like her.

The children did like the Madrigals, both of them, although Adelaide noted they were liked in different ways.

Mirabel was friendly and had something nice to say about everybody. She was happy to help however she could and was fun to sit next to in arts and crafts because she would hand you a crayon and tell you the color would look perfect next to that cute little caterpillar you’d just drawn. Mirabel didn’t tell the funniest jokes, but she laughed at other people’s jokes; she didn’t have the absolute coolest stories, but she listened avidly when others wanted to tell a story, and even remembered it well enough she could tell you to repeat it for another kid to hear; she didn’t have a magic gift, but she did spend the snack breaks showing everybody how to make friendship bracelets. Some people were jerks about the no-gift thing, but they were quickly shut up when Mirabel said her Má told her to only share the cookies she’d brought for lunch with nice kids.

Then there was Camilo. Camilo did tell the funniest jokes, he did tell the coolest stories, and he did have a magic gift. 

The other kids sat next to Mirabel when they wanted to talk about their favorite animals, but they sat next to Camilo when they wanted to be amazed. They would ask Mirabel about the simple, crooked, butterfly she had sewn onto her school bag, they would ask Camilo to shapeshift into the teacher and make fart noises. People wanted to play tag with Mirabel, people wanted to watch Camilo put on a show.

Being six years old, Adelaide wondered which was better, whether Camilo or Mirabel was more popular. Now at fourteen she understood that Camilo was more popular, but Mirabel had more friends.

“Hey, uh Adelaide,” Camilo called out and she felt her cheeks warm up automatically. She knew she was hardly the only girl at school to have a crush on Camilo, which honestly just made the way her heart pitter pattered in her chest when he said her name all that more annoying.

She was different in almost every other way, didn't fit quite right with any of the other girls, even the ones who liked her and called her a friend. But this! This stupid, embarrassing crush! This was the one thing she shared in common with other girls. What? Because he had probably saved her from a lifetime of bullying? Ridiculous.

Adelaide turned to look at him and he jogged up to her with a friendly grin. He looked directly at her, not through or past her like some people did, but his smile was the same smile he gave his favorite teachers. It was not the smile he greeted Mirabel, or his two actual friends with. She wondered if underneath it all he was actually like her, but able to hide it because he knew how to act.

Maybe that was why, on the first day of school, when the other kids asked him to act out the story the teacher had read right before lunch he had asked Adelaide to narrate for him. Maybe that was why he kept asking Adelaide to narrate for him. Maybe he knew exactly how much he had helped her, how much it affected the way people saw her, by making her his designated narrator.

“La Señora Florez asked me to do story time for the seven year olds, I need a narrator. You free? I’d let La Señora Florez do it but between you and me, her pacing is always off.”

Or maybe he simply thought she was a good narrator.

“I am,” she said, with a tiny nod.

“Great,” he almost yelled, clapping his hands together once, “let’s go.”

He led her back to the school, at their age they only attended school in the mornings and were sent out in the afternoons to get their work done or so they could do chores for their parents. Adelaide had been half way to the library, but this was better.

“How is your day going,” Adelaide asked, because it was one of the five questions she knew to ask in social situations.

“Pretty good,” he said, “how about you?”

She hesitated, this part was tricky, she was apparently only supposed to say pleasant things but to be honest her day had been pretty boring. Was she supposed to lie? She must have hesitated too long because Camilo turned his head to look at her.

“I… am glad you asked me to do this, it’s always fun.”

Camilo’s face did something that Adelaide did not understand, his eyebrows twitched through a few expressions, his lips pursed, then almost frowned; it was not the face people made when she did the people thing correctly. But then his usual grin came back, he more than anyone else, more than even Mirabel made an effort not to make her feel as awkward as she was. Or maybe Mirabel was making an effort but this was another way that Camilo’s talents as an actor shined through. Mirabel herself could be a bit awkward at times, Josephine said it just made her more likable though, “She’s the relatable sort of awkward” she had explained. Adelaide idly decided that yes, Mirabel probably did try to make Adelaide feel not-awkward just as much or maybe even more than Camilo did, but Camilo was just better at it.

“Were you not having a fun day before?” Camilo eventually asked, in a prompting sort of voice, making her realize she was probably supposed to say more.

She didn’t let herself hesitate too long this time, if she kept pausing to think her answers through people usually assumed that meant something was wrong, instead she gave a shrug just big enough to be noticed and told him, “I thought the history lesson was boring. I always think the history lesson is boring… I think I might not like history lessons.”

Camilo laughed, and she wasn’t sure if he was laughing because what she said was funny, or because he thought she was funny. Despite a love of mischief, he was generally well meaning, so she decided to believe it was the first one.

“Sí, me too,” Camilo said, then looked around at the other passerby, he must have been checking to see if anyone was listening because he dropped his voice before continuing, “don’t tell the other guys I said this but I just don’t give a shit about wars. At all. I want to learn more about inventors and stuff.”

“I can tell you everything you could ever want to know about how telescopes were invented and developed throughout history,” she blurted.

He grinned, and it may have been wishful thinking on her part, but it seemed a lot closer to the smiles he gave his friends than the smiles he gave everybody else. He started to say something, but then somebody called his name. A boy from Juan’s class, the class above them. Camilo turned and greeted him with a shout and brief clasping of their hands. He didn’t pause, but instead twisted as he walked to explain why he couldn’t stop and tell the other boy he’d “catch you later”.

When he turned back around he said, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” she all but whispered, “I know it’s what you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“You act like you’re hosting a party, even when you’re just walking through town. It’s what people expect.”

“Is that so wrong?” He frowned at her, eyes narrowing. It was the face people made when she said something that bordered on rude but wasn’t completely offensive.

She shook her head, “I do what people expect too. It’s easier.”

He didn’t respond, disrupting the natural rhythm of the conversation, she looked at him but couldn’t read him. Had she said something wrong? Something too serious? Too familiar?

They were almost back at the school.

“What do people expect from you?” Camilo asked.

“They expect me to ask ‘how is your day’ and answer with something positive when I am asked the same, even if my day was boring,” Adelaide said, she stopped walking and turned so she could stare up at him when he stopped too, “they expect you to do stuff like that, only they expect you to be perfect at it and exciting about it. It is admirable that you succeed.”

Maybe the honest compliment would fix whatever she was doing wrong.

He opened his mouth to say something, then didn’t say anything. He just stared at her. Some day he would tell her how startling it always was that she seemed to see through him so easily.

She glanced at the school, then looked back at him and took a chance, “Camilo? How was your day?”

He laughed a little breathlessly, then said, “Honestly, I didn’t get a chance to grab breakfast so I’m really hungry.”

She nodded once, then took off her school bag and dug around in it until she found her lunch sack. Without a word she offered it to him.

“Aw geez, I can’t take your food,” Camilo said, shaking his head.

“When story time is over I can quietly slip away and get myself more food. You will probably be expected to do something else for somebody.” She took a half step towards him so her lunch bag was now pressed against his stomach.

He nodded a little sideways, then regarded her with his lip between his teeth before asking in a quiet voice, “You sure?”

She nodded.

“Absolutely positive?”

Another nod and she swung the bag so it gently whacked his stomach.

“Gracias,” he suddenly burst, diving forward and briefly hugging her, “you’re a lifesaver! You have no idea!”

Her face burned and it felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest, but she just nodded and relinquished her bag to him. As they finished the journey back to the school he scarfed down all of the food with impressive speed. Adelaide glanced at him then tapped the corner of her mouth. He thanked her, wiped the errant sauce into his mouth, then thanked her again. He led her to the classroom the seven year olds usually shared with the six year olds, except the six year olds were visible out the window, learning about plants in the school’s garden. 

Adelaide envied them a little, the lessons on how to grow food had been her favorite once upon a time, but had morphed into lessons on food storage and such as she grew older. Much less fun.

The younger children perked up when they saw Camilo and Adelaide waiting by the door, he grinned at the few who stared, then winked and tapped a finger to his lips before pointing at Señora Florez. Most of the children did their best to pay attention, despite their clear mounting excitement.

“-and I think most of you have guessed what we’re doing next,” Señora Florez eventually said, when she was done explaining the different accent marks, “everybody, write the accent marks on your slate and hold it up for me to see when you’ve done so. …Bien! Muy bien! Now, Señorita Adelaide, and Señor Camilo are going to tell you a story, and I want you to try to keep track of how many times you hear each accent mark.”

Señora Florez handed her a book, which Adelaide immediately showed to Camilo. He flipped through the illustrations and briefly turned into each of the characters that had a speaking role. Then handed the book back to her. He fetched her a stool to sit on, front and center of the classroom, and she could feel him hovering at the ready right behind her.

The minute she started reading he warped himself into the shape of the book’s main character, he buzzed around her as she read, bringing the character’s actions to life as she described them. Once in a while she had to pause so he had time to fully act out this page or that. When they came to a bit of dialogue, she held the book up for him and he read the dialogue himself. He still wasn’t great at changing his voice when shape shifting, so he just did voices for the characters the same way their non-magical teachers did during story time. Then when he was done with the dialogue she kept reading on.

As she read, she did her best to emphasize the accent marks, to make it easier for the kids to catch them. Camilo did the same, but was hampered by the funny voices he was doing.

When the story was done the children clapped for Camilo as he bowed left and right with many a flourish. He stepped aside and gestured grandly at her, inspiring another wave of applause, she stood and gave a slight curtsy. Camilo laughed a little, just a breathless little laugh.

Some day he would ask her “The thing with your face, it’s not on purpose, is it?”

And she would say, “No, it is not. I don’t know why I don’t know how to have facial expressions, I know it comes naturally to everyone else, I know I’m supposed to know, instinctually, when to smile or frown. I know I'm supposed to know what each facial expression means. But I don’t and I don’t know why.”

It would become immediately obvious to her that he hadn’t meant to start a serious conversation, because he would look startled, so incredibly startled that even she of all people could read it in his eyes. On that day, many years into their future, she would be suddenly convinced that she was too awkward, too serious, too not quite right, to ever be loved by somebody like Camilo. For a split second she would wonder how she ever thought that this fairy tale would have a happy ending. She would draw in a shaky breath, to apologize for being everything that she was, but never get the chance to do so.

Because Camilo would hug her and tell her she didn’t need to know when to smile or frown, that her monotone delivery made her jokes funnier anyways, and that he just wanted to know if it was ok that he thought it was cute. When prompted, he would shrug and admit he’d always thought watching her do normal stuff with such a serious expression was cute. He’d just wanted to make sure he was laughing with her, not at her, so to speak.

And that would be the day Adelaide truly trusted Camilo, it would be the day her fixation with Camilo, her admiration for him, would finally become love.

But for now, she spent the rest of the day wondering what that little laugh meant. Was she not supposed to curtsy? She always curtsied when she read for him. Or did she do it wrong? Maybe she had been holding the book in a weird way when she did it. Or maybe it wasn’t a laugh at all, maybe it had simply been an exhale that had stuttered on the way out. Maybe the world was kinder than she thought, maybe the world wasn’t completely horrible, and it had been the sort of laugh that Josephine had said people do when they are simply happy or comfortable or fond of whoever they are looking at.

Lying in bed, almost scowling over the fact that this single laugh was keeping her awake, she would acknowledge that the laugh might not have anything to do with her at all and instead it could have been born of Camilo remembering a funny joke.

But despite admitting that, she would stay up all night, thinking about Camilo and how naturally he moved through life, wondering if he secretly thought she was weird, or too serious; or worse, if he thought nothing of her at all. She would stay up all night haunted by all possible versions of Camilo, versions that were kind, versions that were cruel, and versions that were simply apathetic. Then in the morning when she was struggling to stay awake at her desk, the version of Camilo that was real would plop some coffee down in front of her, alongside her empty lunch bag.

“Thanks for the save yesterday,” he said, not bothering to be quiet, not caring that all eyes were on him, that the whole class listened to his every word in hopes it would be said to them next, “you were right, I didn’t get another chance to eat until dinner.”

“De nada,” she said, for once happy her face didn’t automatically respond to her emotions like a normal person’s. With the entire class paying attention to them, she was glad that her blush was hidden, that her breathless joy was invisible to all but Josephine. Camilo nodded at her one more time then his eyes went past her, to Josephine, hopefully he couldn't tell that she was grinning slyly at Adelaide.

“Hey Jo! Real quick, before Mirabel gets here, what’s a good sewing thing to get for her birthday?”

“I’ll see if I can find out what she’s working on,” Josephine said, “embroidery thread’s always a safe bet for her.”

“What about your birthday?” Adelaide interjected, “It’s next, isn’t it? What do you want?”

It seemed the entire class leaned in, and Camilo’s face did something strange, his eyes flicking around to everyone around them. Then he put on that big showy grin of his, the one that wasn’t genuine.

“What I want is to just this one give Mirabel a better gift than she gets me,” Camilo laughed the question away, with a shake of his head and a shrug, “she always knocks it out of the park, leaves me looking like a total jerk in comparison.”

A few people rushed to contradict him, tell him how nice he was. Adelaide cocked her head and considered what she knew about him.

“A book about inventors?” She asked it quietly, taking advantage of her naturally low voice to turn the conversation private in the middle of the crowd. A look of surprise flickered across Camilo’s face, he opened his mouth then froze. He glanced around. 

The problem with always being the center of attention was that people were always paying attention to you.

So it wasn’t subtle at all when he leaned in and told her as quietly as he could, “Yeah, or a working model I could fiddle with.”

She nodded, mind already racing with ideas.

Then he stood up with a grin, “Just don’t tell Mirabel I said that, the last thing she needs is help beating me.”

“Beating you at what?” Mirabel asked, walking through the door with Katrina.

“Did you know you and Camilo are competing over who can get the other a better birthday gift?” Josephine said.

“We are not,” Mirabel rolled her eyes, then smirked at Camilo, “that would imply Camilo has a chance at winning.”

A few people oohed while others laughed.

“Oh ho! Thems some fighting words,” Camilo crowed, “just you wait Mirabel, I’ll kick some gift giving ass this year, I’m going to give you something so great it’ll make you cry.”

“Oh really?”

“Sí! Really,” Camilo gestured grandly at Josephine, “because this year I have a secret weapon.”

“I don’t think ‘buy her string’ is the winning advice you think it is,” Adelaide pointed out, meaning to be genuinely helpful, but people laughed as if it was a joke.

Some day Adelaide would admit to Camilo that she didn’t learn how to tell jokes until she was seventeen, and didn’t master it until she was twenty-one, any time she was funny before that was by accident. He would admit to her that he’d always been a little jealous of her mastery of the deadpan delivery, and the things she said became even funnier now that he knew she meant them.

In the here and now, Camilo gasped and theatrically put a hand to his chest, “Oh! The betrayal! I thought you were on my side.”

“I am, and I am also correct,” Adelaide said with a shrug.

“She is sorta correct,” Mirabel said, giving Josephine an apologetic smile, “I love that people keep giving me embroidery floss but if you’re going for some sort of wow factor…”

“Alright, fair enough,” Camilo shrugged it off as easily as he shrugged off most things, then he grinned at Adelaide, “coming in for the save again, I guess.”

“I try,” she all but whispered.

“Well cut it out, I can’t go buying you coffee every day,” Camilo’s words were harsh but his tone and smile were friendly, she was pretty sure he was joking.

“I also accept payment in candle lit dinners,” is what Adelaide would have said if she was a few years older and way bolder. “I also accept payment in chocolate,” is what she would have said if she thought of it in time. “We’ll call this one a freebie” is what she actually said, which wasn’t bad as far as replies went, but she only thought of it so quickly because it was a line from the book she had read for him the day before.

He smiled then, and it was a smile that Adelaide didn’t recognize. A smile that would someday become familiar to her, that she would someday know to be the way he smiled when he was in on an inside joke. It was not a complicated smile, or one that denoted anything groundbreaking.

Which just made it all the more frustrating to her that her next sleepless night was spent fixating on it.

A/N: I know I've mentioned that I created Adelaide to be the reason Camilo ends up with very autistic kids, but when I actually started rotating her in my head I liked the idea of her being very calm and understated in contrast of his showy personality, and that became her being somebody that struggles to mask. I think we've all been in that place where we know we're not wearing the right facial expression for the situation, and I assume a lot of people have found themselves over thinking what their face is doing. That is Adelaide, every second of every day. She's observant and intelligent, but god damn it, was she supposed to laugh at that or look sympathetic? Therefore she spends her youth absolutely fascinated by Camilo's ability to mask (because even if you don't see him as neurodivergent I still subscribe to the theory that he has identity issues he's hiding from everybody). Combine that with the fact that he almost single-handedly saved her from a life time of being the creepy kid when he decided she would be his designated narrator and she ends up with a crush that really pisses her off. (Something else I assume everybody else experiences.)

[pulim-v]

Okay I see no reason not to post this rn other than inactivity (and I can always tag people so eh)

Oh also relevant disclaimer this might be weird but the feathers on a bird's head are referred to as "hair" in fgcc. Don't ask me why idk either.

Fern's Crush: a Foggy Glasses and Corroded Copper Scene

"Via... we need to talk." Fern said, startling Via with her sudden appearance.

"What's up, Fern? Everything alright?" Octavia said, looking directly at Fern as she took note of his appearance.

Fern looked... messy. His hair was ruffled, her face feathers intensely ruffled, forehead glittering with sweat and chest quickly moving with his rapid breaths.

Fern took a step forward, entering Octavia's dorm room, and she directed him to the bed next to her. As she sat down, Octavia turned off her computer screen, took off her earphones, and directed her gaze to Fern again, waiting to see what she would say.

It took him a few moments, as he sat there silently, still seeming extremely nervous, but eventually he started talking:

"I... I think I have a crush on Spark. I don't know how long it's been, I just know the other day they hugged me and I started blushing and I can't stop thinking about them, and oh gosh what do I do, Via? Please help me, I don't know what having a crush is like, what if they reject me?"

"Oh," Octavia said, startled, "is that it? Like, just that?" She twirled a part of her hair with her finger, pondering on what she'd say to help.

"What do you mean "just that"? I'm freaking out over here!"

"Yeah, sorry about that", Octavia chuckled, "it's just that... can't you just confess to them? I get that it's new to you, but that just sounds like the best option".

"I don't know, it's complicated!" Fern started running his hands through his hair, exasperated "Like, what if they reject me? What if they don't want to talk to me ever again?"

"Okay, let's calm down a bit." Octavia said as she grabbed Fern's hands and pulled them down, placing them on Fern's lap. "Let's just try to imagine what could happen." She said, holding up a hand so she could count. "One: Spark doesn't reject you, everything turns out fine, and you two start dating. Two: Spark does reject you, you move on, you two remain as friends. Three: Spark does reject you and doesn't want to be friends, you move on, I give them a piece of my mind and you go back to being friends."

"It's not that simple," Fern scoffed. "you cant just force us to be friends like that!"

"Yeah, but Spark would have been a terrible person if they stopped being friends with you over this." Fern started to intervene, but Octavia held a finger out, asking him to wait until she was done talking. "Besides, it's better to actually ask them out than to pretend like you don't like them, that just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen"

"That's easy for you to say, Mrs. "I'm clearly in love with Dew but won't do anything about it"!" Fern almost shouted, getting up slightly from the bed.

Octavia felt her face getting warmer. She started to get nervous, so she reached out to her hair to start fidgeting with it, forgetting that it was untied. She took a few locks of hair in her hands and started messing with them, thinking of what to say. Meanwhile, Fern was still exasperated, but seemingly shrunk back into the bed.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for" he said, looking away from his friend.

"Was it that obvious?" Octavia furrowed her eyebrows and bit her cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to calm her down.

Fern chuckled. "Via, you're the least expressive person I know, and your face still turns bright red whenever they talk to you"

Octavia's face started to get even warmer, at which point she buried it in her hands and averted Fern's gaze, looking at the black screen of her computer. She took note of her own reflection in it: her face had a bit of sweat in it, her hair was messier than usual, and even through the tinted screen her snout was visibly reddened. She slowly took a breath, turned back towards Fern, and replied:

"I don't know... that's different... it would be really awkward, I don't want to sacrifice the friendship we have."

"That's what I'm saying with regards to Spark! They're my crush, yeah, but they're also my first friend... I can't afford to mess it up with them." Fern said, her voice clearly strained.

"I... I don't know Fern, I think I understand what you mean a little bit more now. Gosh, I'm a real hypocrite, huh? I'm really sorry for that"

"No need to apologize, I'm just too pathetic to actually take your advice to heart," Fern chuckled and extended their arms, "can I..."

Octavia hugged Fern, running her large hands through his soft hair. She felt his hands grab her back, touching the thin fabric of the simple dress she was wearing. The two stayed in there for a few seconds, with Octavia feeling Fern's heartbeat slow down and his movements get subtler. At one point, she heard a chuckle.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing", Fern said, "it's just that now that I think of it, aren't we both just kinda... pathetic? It's stupid, we don't even have the guts to do something as simple as confessing a crush"

"Hey! Don't say that!" Octavia broke free from the hug, looking directly at Fern. She quickly let her gaze wander, though, contemplating his words. "Yeah... I guess we are..."

"Thanks for this, Via" Fern said, pulling her back into the hug and letting his head rest on her shoulder.

"No problem, Fern" Octavia said, lost in thought as she let her hand run through Fern's hair.

[kayawolfhorse]

The changes were as gradual as gaining new extremities overnight could be.

First came the ears, tufted in fur the same brown as Pearl’s hair, pricked upright upon her head. The morning they appeared, Pearl’s waking thought was how much louder the birds’ chirping tune seemed to be, how she was able to pinpoint exactly where they perched, along the roof of her tower and in the boughs of the highest treetops below. She tried not to think about the whispered remarks made behind her retreating back she could hear all the clearer now.

The tail appeared next, and Pearl almost crushed it rolling out of bed. Though it was often hidden by the drape of her scarlet cloak, Pearl liked her new tail, and petting the long, coarse fur soon became as natural to her as idly playing with the strands of hair that fell loose around her face.

On the third day, Pearl awoke with a bleeding mouth, pierced by long, pointed canines she wasn’t used to having. Those took the longest to adjust to, weeks of bruises along her bottom lip as Pearl learned how to hold herself, how to rest, in harmony with her new traits. The teeth felt most natural bared in a snarl. Their sharpness didn’t quite fit into her soft, human mouth. Pearl made it work.

The other differences weren’t as initially noticeable. At night, Pearl’s vision seemed sharper, and with the moon shining above her, she could see just as clearly as she could during the day. When running together, Tilly didn’t have to slow her stride to keep pace with Pearl, and leaping over a fallen trunk or puddle hardly became a feat at all.

Pearl’s favorite change of them all was her newfound ability to howl.

She’d always responded to Tilly’s call in kind, but Pearl’s vocal cords could only mimic so much. Now, between them, under a clear night sky filled with more stars than Pearl had ever seen, they created a choir, two voices pitched to sound like ten.

Pearl had howled to an empty, half-built tower the night Tilly lost her first life, before she’d found her way back to Pearl.

Perhaps it was her new wolfishness, perhaps they were the desires Pearl hadn’t allowed herself to feel, that made the pangs of loneliness worse.

She had Tilly! She’d always have Tilly, Pearl would make sure of it. Her beloved wolf was her true soulbound, the tail and the ears and the teeth said as much. Tilly protected her and Pearl defended her fiercely in kind. Pearl wouldn’t be alone ever again. It was fine. Pearl was fine.

In the quietest cracks of the day, between the time the moon set and dawn colored the sky, Pearl admitted to herself that she wasn’t fine.

The yearning ached in her chest, next to the invisible spool of thread that connected Pearl to a partner who never wanted her. She’d never be invited to the fireside circle, accepted into the band of safety and trust the other pairs had found in each other, in their alliances, however unsteady those tended to be in a place like this. At least there was ground to shake beneath their feet, purchase Pearl had never felt so high up in her tower.

Even with Tilly at her side, Pearl was a lone wolf, and she knew, like every abandoned dog did, how badly she longed for a pack.

—

An excerpt from a piece I’m never going to finish, but liked enough to toss onto Tumblr away. Reblogs do more than likes and all that

[returnsandreturns]

@snakeoilsalesdepartment, I saw you reblog the original one and my brain spit this out. For you:

All that Foggy hears is someone frantically saying, “Kiss me,” before he makes eye contact with an objectively hot guy and kisses him first. The guy backs him up against the nearest tree and they make out for about a minute before the guy backs up.

“We could have stopped that like forty five seconds ago,” the guy says, breathlessly, patting Foggy's arm, “but you're an extremely good kisser, dude. Gentle but firm, somehow. Props for that.”

“Thanks,” Foggy says, laughing. “Are you going to explain what just happened? Did you suddenly get hit with the need to kiss someone and I was the closest person? I'm Foggy, by the way.”

“Shawn Spencer,” Shawn says, “and I'll have you know that I am extremely discerning about the people I kiss to hide myself from the very large men who chase me because they think I cheated at poker games that I actually won because I have a keen sense of observation and, also, natural charm.”

Foggy takes a second to process that sentence.

“Are you implying that you're chased by large men frequently?” he asks.

“I live a wayward life, Foggy,” Shawn says. “I'm a nomad. A vagabond. Frequently unemployed. So, I occasionally sneak into high stakes poker games to keep food in my belly and gel in my hair. The essentials.”

“You seem. . .very interesting,” Foggy says, slowly.

“You have the softest hair I've ever had the honor of touching,” Shawn says, reaching up to tuck Foggy's hair behind his ear which is stupidly charming, “and a truly stunning smile. What do you say we ride this moment out as long as we can? Coffee? Laser tag? Gay sex?”

“Let's. . .start with coffee,” Foggy says, grinning and letting Shawn throw an arm around him as they walk. “See how it goes.”

—

“How did you know I was into guys?” Foggy asks, when they're tucked away in the corner of a small coffee shop.

“Oh, I didn't,” Shawn says. “You just had a kind face that also said ‘strong ally or a Kinsey two and a half,’ so I figured you probably wouldn't punch me, at least. Then you kissed me, y’know, the way that you did, and blushed when I touched your hair. Adorable, by the way.”

Foggy blushes again, shaking his head when Shawn beams at him.

“Adorable,” he repeats. “So, laser tag?”

“Or gay sex,” Foggy says.

“I'd be interested in exploring a hybrid of both,” Shawn says, warmly, “but I'll admit, the second one sounds—oh, shit.”

He grabs a pen from Foggy's messenger bag and scrawls out a phone number on a napkin before giving Foggy a firm kiss, saying, “Please call me,” and jumping over the table to run out of the coffee shop.

Closely followed by multiple very large men.

[mc-tummy-blur]

The long distance is due to him waiting for Nick to get into Hell (also just used a background from the dlc I was not in the mood to draw the background lmaoo)

Based off of this pic:

Click for better quality

Check my pinned post to see links on how you can help the people of Palestine

[moweh]

still getting the hang of procreate, have a baby jay in the snow while i practice :)