#foil blocked invitations

[ghostytoad]

hey so how do you think the rottmnt turtles would deal with the boys being busy and s/o comes up behind them and gives them a hug and then lets go and somehow they had snuck a xmas gift bag on their lap and s/o is gone from the room. Inside the gift bag is three things; Something they’ve been wanting for fun, something domestically useful and homemade cookies?

i'm gonna have to break this up into 4 parts again because it's a bit too long for tumblr's block limit agaiiin

* Season of Surprises *

ROTTMNT Boys receive an unexpected gift

Summary: The boys have been working themselves to the shell. Between patrols, kicking villanous butt, and general hero business, it leaves little time for their darling Reader. Fortunately, 'tis the season of gift-giving.

Oneshot for: Raphael

GN! Reader; Romantic; Fluff; Mild angst; Pre-established relationship || Words: 1k

Donnie | Leo | Mikey

Raph:

His fun gift: A giant turtle plush

His useful gift: Phone big enough to fit in his big hands

His cookies: Chocolate chunk cookies

It had been an entire week since Raphael had gotten any sleep and the low, unintelligable mumbling that rumbled in his chest made it obvious that he could really use the rest. His body, mind, and very spirit were aching for a peaceful night's sleep and Raph was determined to will himself into bed despite the aches that riddled his body threatening to topple him over. He had barely reached past his room's doorway before he collapsed forward with a thud and a delayed groan, his face colliding with the cold, hard floor.

'Well, this isn't any better-' he thought to himself and struggled to wriggle and worm his body across with floor, the dragging of his spikes leaving scratches and cracks on the unmoving concrete. He'd worry about the scuff in the morning For now, his bed was far too inviting for his overworked body to ignore and by god was he going to get some sleep tonight. The week prior had been nothing but back to back patrols, the brutal rate of which started taking a major toll on the titan's massive form. The long-neglected bruises, scratches, and scrapes dotting his body made his quest for a good night's sleep all the more pressing. He was only inches away from the foot of his bed when his trek was interrupted by the pattering of soft footsteps beside him.

"Mikey, I'm not carrying you back to your room." he deadpanned, flattening his raised torso back onto the floor hoping to discourage his playful little brother from jumping onto his back and demanding a piggyback ride. As the footsteps stopped right next to his face, Raph turned his head and looked up through squinted eyes. Instead of olive green legs standing beside him, he was met with what he recognized as his significant other's kneeling form next to his face, a wrapped box being held out toward him. Raph blinked slowly up at Y/N and reached a tenative arm up to accept the gift.

"Babe, hey!" his voice was deeper and much slower than he'd wanted it to be, "What's with the-"

As soon as the parcel left their hands, Y/N wordlessly smiled down at the snapping turtle mutant and started back out the door in a haste.

"Uh… Th-Thanks! Love ya too!" he'd called out after them, the last part sounding uncertain considering they'd left in a hurry without so much as a greeting. Did they hate him all of a sudden? Were they mad at him? Did they mean to leave him a present sooner? Did they think he was unattractive lying on the floor like that? Okay, maybe the last one was a bit of a stretch, but nothing was off-limits in Raph's overthinking mind. But they'd left a gift, surely they must still at least LIKE him?

The turtle had glanced at the box that sat in his large palm, sitting himself up to examine his partner's handiwork. Chuckling to himself, he admired how delicately the red foil wrapping paper had been folded, edges neat and free of crinkles. The golden lace bow that sat so beautifully on top could only have come from their careful and precise hand; if there were ever someone with a knack for gift wrapping, it was his beloved Y/N.

In a thoughtless swish and tear, he unwrapped the plain medium sized box that hid underneath. His attention was caught by the little sticky note taped to the side of the box, reading:

Merry Christmas, my Red Angel!

I know you've been working extra hard and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you and everything you do! Let me know how you like your new gifts!

Love, Y/N

PS. I named him Raph Jr.

"Raph Jr, huh?" he'd hummed while a cheeky, lovesick grin stretched across the boy's face and a dark blush colored his green cheeks. What did he ever do to deserve someone so wonderful and thoughful? How could he ever hope to repay them for such a kind gesture? His dreamy eyes read over the love note again and again, drinking in every sweet little word. All he could do was flail his hands and giggle like a little girl, fangirling quietly on the floor of his room not wanting to bring his brothers' attention to his silly little display. If they knew what a lovesick mess their big brother was and how easily Y/N could fluster him, the teasing would be merciless.

Lovingly, he eagerly dug in, tugging and pulling at the stubborn object packed tightly into the little box. After a few gentle and ineffective yanks, he gave a strong pull and forced the soft gift free of its tight enclosure, causing him to stumble onto his back in the process. The plush gift decompressed mid-air with an audible POOF and in a bounce, landed on top of the unsuspecting ninja.

"Wh-What the-?!" it took him a minute to focus his eyes on the large, green turtle plush that continued fluffing itself up to its full huggable capacity.

"Raph Jr…?" he snickered and sat himself up once again with the oversized stuffie letting out a squeak as he rested his elbows on its fleece shell.

"You can't sneak up on people like that!" Raph cooed in his baby voice, "Must've been a rough ride being stuffed into that itty bitty box, poor lil' guy. Don't you worry, wittle one, Papa Raph's gotcha now~"

Giving the plush a tight squeeze in his large arms, Raph let himself fall back onto the floor, nuzzling into the cozy warmth of the stuffed animal and slowly started to drift off. Falling deep asleep in a matter of seconds, he hadn't realized the cookies and even smaller box that still sat in the gift box. By far, the plush was more than enough for him now.

[mbruben-stein]

I fucking love your work

And can you make a TMNT 2012 Leo x Chubby/Curvy Reader?

I love your TMNT work God bless you sweetie🤗💕

I love you the way you are.

TMNT 2012 Leo x chubby/curvy reader.

A/N: I was having a little bit of trouble riding this one. I was just stuck on writers block for a while. I hope everyone enjoys what I write. Have a lovely day everyone and remember that there's always going to be someone that loves you the way you are.

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, pinching the soft flesh around your waist. No matter how much you work out and eat healthy, you can never seem to lose the curves and extra weight. Sometimes you feel insecure about your body, wishing you had a lean, slender figure like April or Karai.

As much as you try not to let it get to you, the negative thoughts creep in more and more lately. It doesn't help that you have a huge crush on Leonardo - strong, disciplined, heroic Leo. You're sure he would never be attracted to someone with a body like yours. He probably goes for fit, athletic girls who can keep up with his intense training.

Feeling discouraged, you throw on some loose clothes and head over to the lair to hang out with the turtles like you do most days. You've been close friends with them ever since they saved you from some Purple Dragon gang members a year ago. Although you adore all four brothers, you find yourself most drawn to Leo and his sense of honor and leadership. You try to hide your feelings, not wanting to risk your friendship or face inevitable rejection.

When you arrive at the lair, Mikey bounces over to greet you. "Y/N! Check out this new pizza recipe I invented - pepperoni, jelly beans and garlic! I call it the Mikey Surprise!"

You laugh and pat his shell. "That sounds...interesting Mikey. Maybe I'll try it later." You scan the room and spot Leo practicing katas off to the side. He notices you and gives a quick smile and wave before resuming his focused movements with his katana blades. Your heartbeat quickens at the mere sight of him.

"Whatcha staring at, Y/N?" Raph teases, plopping down on the couch. "Could it be our fearless leader over there?"

You feel your cheeks redden. "What? No! I was just spacing out. Not staring at anyone in particular."

Donnie looks up from the gadget he's tinkering with, raising an eye ridge. "Uh huh, sure." He exchanges a knowing glance with Raph.

Wanting to change the subject, you ask, "So what's the plan for today guys? Any missions to foil the Foot or Kraang?"

"Nah, it's been pretty quiet," Raph says. "Probably just training and patrolling later."

As if on cue, Leo finishes his katas and strides over to the group. "We'll head out in a few hours to scout the city. There's been reports of increased Purple Dragon activity by the docks we should check out." His ocean blue eyes turn to you. "Y/N, you're welcome to come if you'd like. We could always use an extra set of eyes. And I know you can handle yourself in a fight if needed."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Leo has never invited you on a patrol before. "Really? You'd want me to come with you guys?"

"Of course," Leo says warmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're part of the team."

You beam at him, heart fluttering at his touch. "I'd love to come! Thanks Leo!" You try to sound casual and not too eager.

The next couple hours pass quickly as you all eat pizza, joke around, and watch Mikey and Raph thumb wrestle. Soon it's time to head up to the surface. The turtles gather their gear and you all climb out of the sewer into the dark city night.

You follow the brothers as they sprint and leap across the rooftops with ease. Even with all the training they've given you, you still struggle to keep pace with their mutant speed and strength. Not to mention your curvy body feels cumbersome and heavy as you try to gracefully jump from building to building like they do.

After a few minutes, you need to pause to catch your breath. "You guys go on ahead," you pant, waving them on. "I'll catch up in a sec."

Leo frowns and hangs back as his brothers continue forward. "You okay, Y/N? We can take a break if you need to."

You force a smile, not wanting to slow him down. "I'm fine, Leo. Just go with the others. I know I can't keep up with you guys."

He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you behind. Here, climb on my back. I'll carry you the rest of the way."

You hesitate, self-conscious about your weight. "Are you sure? I'm probably too heavy..."

Leo gives you a look. "Y/N, you're not too heavy. It's no problem, I promise. Now hop on before the guys get too far ahead of us and Raph starts calling me Lame-o-nardo again."

Biting your lip, you walk over and carefully climb onto his shell, wrapping your arms and legs around him from behind. He easily hoists you up and takes off running, not showing any strain from your added size.

"Is this okay?" you ask meekly, convinced you must be crushing him.

Leo cranes his neck to give you a reassuring smile over his shoulder. "You're perfect, Y/N. I've got you."

Something about the way he says that makes your stomach flutter. You rest your head against his shoulder and allow yourself to relax as he carries you across the rooftops. Being this close to him feels amazing.

After a couple minutes, you catch up to where the others have stopped on a ledge overlooking the docks. Leo gently lowers you to the ground. You immediately miss his touch but try to focus on the mission.

"What do you see?" Leo asks his brothers.

Donnie peers through the scope on his goggles. "Looks like your typical Purple Dragon deal going down. I count maybe a dozen of them and...is that Hun? I thought he was still locked up!"

Raph cracks his knuckles. "Not anymore it seems. And it looks like he brought backup." He points to several black vans pulling up.

"Foot soldiers," Leo says grimly as the doors open to reveal Shredder's men piling out. "Just what we need. A Purple Dragon and Foot team-up."

You look at Leo in concern. "What's the plan, Chief?"

His brow furrows in thought before he nods decisively. "We go in quick and quiet. Take out as many as we can before they sound the alarm. Don, Mikey, you guys handle the Purple Dragons. Raph and I will deal with the Foot. Y/N, I want you to stay up here and keep watch. Let us know if any more show up. We'll regroup once it's clear."

You frown slightly, wondering if he just wants you to stay back because you'd get in the way with your lack of ninja skills. But you know he's just trying to keep you safe, so you agree.

"Got it. Be careful down there guys." You give Leo's hand a quick squeeze. He returns it before signaling his brothers forward.

You crouch on the ledge and observe as the four ninja turtles silently take out the guards and make their way through the shadows. It never fails to impress you seeing them in action.

Things seem to be going smoothly until you notice another black van pull up and even more Foot ninjas spill out. "Guys, heads up! Reinforcements incoming!" you say into your T-phone.

On the ground, you see Raph groan. "Aw shell, not again."

The new wave of Foot rush to aid their comrades, turning the battle into an all out brawl. You wince as you watch the turtles begin to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies surrounding them.

Suddenly, you notice Leo get knocked back by a powerful punch from a hulking Foot ninja. The brute raises his sword to deliver a finishing blow while Leo is dazed...

Without thinking, you leap off the ledge and land shell-first on the Foot soldier, knocking him to the ground. You roll to your feet in front of Leo protectively. "Stay away from him!"

The Foot ninja rises and growls at you, but you stand your ground. As he lunges, you sidestep and use your lowered center of gravity to grab his arm and flip him over your shoulder, slamming him hard into the concrete.

Leo stares at you in awe. "Y/N! That was amazing!" He seems to notice your fierce protectiveness of him and smiles softly.

You help him to his feet, blushing. "I couldn't let him hurt you. Now let's finish this!"

Side by side, you and Leo rejoin the fight. It feels so natural, moving in sync with him as you take down Foot ninja after Foot ninja. Your curves make you surprisingly agile and powerful.

With your added help, the turtles manage to beat back the Purple Dragons and Foot clan, sending them retreating into the night. You all cheer and high five in victory.

"That was so cool how you just jumped in like that, Y/N!" Mikey says excitedly. "You were all fierce and BOOYAKASHA!"

"Our girl's got some moves!" Raph agrees, giving you a fist bump. Donnie pats your back proudly.

You smile shyly at the praise. Your eyes find Leo's and he is gazing at you with open admiration. "Y/N, you were incredible. Thank you for having my back. You're a true part of this team."

Your heart soars at his words. "I'll always have your back, Leo," you say sincerely.

On the way back to the lair, Leo insists on carrying you again, even though you aren't tired. Not that you're complaining. Being held in his strong arms is something you could get very used to.

When he sets you down in the lair, he keeps his hands resting on your waist. "What you did tonight... it showed me a side of you I've never seen before. Your strength, your bravery, how you didn't hesitate to protect me."

He looks deep into your eyes. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now. The reason I get so protective of you is because...I care about you. As more than a friend. I have feelings for you. Strong feelings."

You stop breathing. Is this really happening? "You do? But why? I mean, look at me..." You gesture helplessly at your curvy figure.

Leo cups your face tenderly. "I am looking at you. And I see a beautiful, courageous, amazing woman. Your body is perfect the way it is. Soft and strong. I love your curves." His thumbs stroke your full cheeks. "I love every inch of you, inside and out. And if you'll have me, I promise to show you just how much every single day."

Tears fill your eyes at his heartfelt declaration. "Oh Leo... I feel the same way! I've always loved you!"

Beaming, Leo pulls you flush against him, your soft chest cushioning his hard plastron. "Yeah?"

You nod shyly and he grins. "Then allow me to make up for lost time..."

He leans in and captures your mouth in a passionate, loving kiss. You melt into his embrace, finally feeling fully accepted and cherished exactly as you are.

In Leo's arms, with him kissing you like you're his whole world, all your insecurities fade away. He loves you, curves and all.

[mochiwrites]

Any thoughts to share about the secret husbands reunion? It's giving me such brain worms, they're so soft!

ofc!!! :D

so after they reunite on mumbo’s redstone world and catch up, grian stays there for a few days with scar Constantly visiting. and honestly I think it’s an opportunity for mumbo and scar to become better friends as well! the three of them spend a lot of time in each others company after all. but mumbo does try to give scar and grian some space (I think mumbo is one of the first to notice they’ve got feelings for each other)

he also gets a front row seat to scar becoming his normal self again. the man can’t stop smiling, and he’s like a bouncy ball with how much he’s just moving around and cheerful (mumbo catches grian looking at him with a terribly fond smile Very often)

grian probably stays with mumbo for hmmm two weeks? maybe a bit longer? after crashing into his world? it gives them a lot of time to get to know each other (they get along extremely well — just like scar thought they would) and while grian doesn’t tell him Every little detail about the watchers, mumbo does end up learning about what happened and is one of the only people who knows the most

when scar isn’t with them, he’s back on the season five world hatching a plan to sneak grian onto hermitcraft

said plan is foiled Very quickly when it’s found by cub and xisuma himself. they laugh about it because “scar you could’ve just asked us to invite grian” and scar is rambling because he knows it has to be a unanimous vote and what if not everyone agrees and he’s just gotten grian back x :( he can’t be separated from him again :(

to which cub just sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him it’ll be fine (scar brings it up at the next meeting and everyone is enthusiastic about grian joining them. scar cries. a lot.)

and when he and mumbo pop into mumbo’s world again where grian is, they drop the news on him (no scar did Not tell grian about any of this beforehand) and maybe grian gets a little teary eyed too

scar stays in the world that night, curled protectively around grian and they whisper to each other about hermitcraft, the sort of server it is and the people in it. and he’s quick to reassure grian of his place in it when grian is doubtful

after grian’s injuries heal up enough mumbo lets him have his own lil plot in the world to practice his building again. it’s been so long that he’s… nervous about doing it again. what if he’s no good anymore?

when scar comes to visit he’ll sit and watch grian build, introducing the new blocks and colors and oh he’s greatly missed the way grian’s eyes sparkle with interest or when he’s got a new idea for a build — sometimes they build together, and sometimes mumbo joins them, learning some things

(he’s kind of in awe, watching the two of them work together. it’s very inspirational)

sometimes they do a build competition, with little prompts and everything. they take turns on who judges the build/gives the prompt and who actually builds

and when it’s time for season five’s ending, grian is alone in mumbo’s world for a bit while scar and mumbo wrap up whatever they need to. it’s… hard to be alone, but he comforts himself by looking at the reminders of scar (and mumbo) and he gets through

scar gets a bear hug when they return though. and then mumbo too, just so he doesn’t feel left out <3

then finally… scar brings grian home. and they’re both very emotional about it. grian sees jellie and she’s glued to his side despite his fear she wouldn’t remember him. she is extremely adamant about sleeping On grian at night, and scar teases him about stealing his cat. “our cat,” grian replies with a big grin. though scar says something about jellie missing him just as much

(I think on those days when scar would stay at their hypixel apartment in hopes grian would come home, jellie went with him. and at night she’d curl up on grian’s pillow a lot. her favorite toy would be on his side of the bed, always. scar would hold bring grian’s pillow in close with her on it and cry)

while waiting for season six to start they spruce up the apartment a bit !!! they try to get back into the swing of their routine while accounting for the new things (grian’s wings, his fears, his nightmares, the powers they gave him)

it isn’t easy, but they get through it. and when the season properly begins, they spawn in, and grian goes off on his own to adventure and meet everyone. he’s… a little awkward and shy (very unlike him, he knows) but ironically ends up right by scar and mumbo and he’s so relieved (I think scar and grian talked about basing near each other before the season began)

and yeah :D

[cinematics123]

So, buddie lifer here, but I will say that I did like Tommy, historic problems with that character aside. While I prefer Buddie, I enjoyed the perspective of an older queer character (look at Josh/Brian Safi’s speech!) to the show.

I would love to see Tommy back on the show, and to get to explore that more - and I think Josh would be an excellent partner/foil for that.

That said, I liked Natalia too. And I even liked Ana, although Marisol can suck a dick. I didn’t dislike characters because they “stood in the way of Buddie” and I still don’t. I hated Taylor because she was BAD for Buck - and he was bad for her.

That said, it’s not good to gloat and I feel bad for the actor getting swept off (although glad he has other projects) and I’d love to see him back on the show in a different capacity.

For the BuckTommy only fans, I know you all feel pretty angry at the moment, but I also would like to invite you to contextualize what this means for 911 and Buddie - Buddie *was* supposed to go canon, that is the direction the show was actively moving in - and the studio not only blocked it but they cancelled the show. Only ABC was willing to step in and give the show a chance to shine and to actually have the courage to do buddie.

Without the passion of the audience, we would never have had bi Buck or BuckTommy from season 7, because the studio that shall not be named cancelled the show in Season 6.

A line from Josh on learning to respect the struggle of your elders definitely applied to Buck needing to respect what Josh has been through. But, it also applies to what the Buddie shippers have been through getting gaybaited by a studio on purpose and getting their whole show (which was the number 1 show in its time slot) shut down so their ship could not go canon. I will miss Tommy. I’d like to explore what his struggles were that led him here and led him to being someone Chim and Hen could rely on instead of being in the group that picked in them. But, understand why people are thrilled to see another barrier to their ship go away. It may come off as something anti-Tommy - but that anger has never really been about Tommy.

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

“Your sister found me because she was ready.”

Kara frowns. “Ready for what?”

“For the truth.” Lena replies simply. “To wake up and leave the lie behind.”

“The lie?” Lena’s words bring back echoes of Alex’s message. The Matrix still has you… You’ll find me, if you’re ready to wake up. “You mean… the Matrix?”

“Yes.”

Kara leans forward, her attention caught. “What is the Matrix?”

Lena sighs, her eyes clouding over. “I’m afraid no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. Right now, all I can tell you is that the Matrix is everywhere. It’s all around us. It’s in the air we breathe, in everything we touch…”

Lena ventures a hand between them to touch Kara’s, their hands connecting in the slightest. And even though she knows that she’s not really touching Kara’s hand, her mind feeds her the sensations of it — the softness of Kara’s skin, the gentle press of her flesh under Lena’s fingers.

Lena draws her hand away, and Kara follows it avidly with her eyes. “For you to know what the Matrix is, I have to go back to the beginning. Or at least, to where it begins for us.”

Or, the Supercorp Matrix AU

[So I found an old Matrix AU from a different fandom while I was rooting through my drive, and I thought it could be retooled into a Supercorp AU. Little did I know what I was inviting into my brain, but here we are suffering the consequences. (And now I have 2 different supercorp Matrix AUs. Great.) Spoilers ahead for the OG trilogy.]

In the movies, Neo is the One, but there are other Potentials. Each Potential displays extraordinary abilities beyond the standards of normal. Kara and Lena are both Potentials. Either one of them could be the One.

It begins in the Matrix, when Lena gets adopted by the Luthors as a little girl.

The Luthors are a picture-perfect family. Powerful, affluent, and respected. The father, the mother and the golden son. And Lena - smart, angelic and pretty, the perfect daughter - is the ideal addition to make their picturesque family complete.

Except when she's about 4 or so, it becomes apparent that Lena is not like other children.

It's immediately clear that her intellect far surpasses people four, five times her age. Lena is sharp and brilliant, able to grasp complex concepts most adults cannot. She seems to see the world around her in a different way.

The Luthors are no strangers to gifted children, their son Lex was deemed a prodigy at around the same age. At first, Lionel and Lillian take this as yet another proof of how exceptional Luthors are, and Lena is proudly displayed as their indigo child.

But Lena's talent develops as fast as she does.

Soon, she begins to exhibit strange, unexplained abilities. An expensive Waterford crystal goblet in Lionel's hand explodes when Lena has a tantrum. Once, Lillian walks into her playroom to find Lena having tea with her dolls, and when Lillian enters, all heads turn to her. Lena's and all four of her Madame Alexander dolls.

Her intellect begins to surpass what defines “normal” intelligence. She predicts and successfully foils an assassination attempt against Lionel. She prevents Lex from getting hit by a driver in a car chase five blocks away.

The last straw comes when Lena finds out that the cleaning lady's five year old son has cancer.

Lena convinces Alma to take her to see him. Five hours later, a tearful Alma brings the little girl back with something akin to wonder in her eyes. "Your little girl is an angel, Mr. Luthor. Bendecida por la Virgen. She cured my Carlos! She took away his sickness! Ella es un milagro de Dios!”

However, far from seeing it as a miracle, the Luthors circle the wagons. The next day, Lena finds out Alma has been dismissed, and a shift occurs in the Luthor household.

When Lena's abilities were within the parameters of "normal", they were good, something to be proud of. But now that her gifts have proven to be beyond that, they become alien, freakish. Something to be hidden. People would be asking too many questions, and Luthors do not permit those.

Suddenly, instead of being lauded for what she is able to do, Lena is now scrutinized and examined to find out what's "wrong" with her. It begins to strain the family that is obsessed with order and perfection.

They take Lena to various doctors and put her through all sorts of tests, but none of them seem able to find an explanation for Lena’s strange abilities.

Until they meet Rhea, an educator who runs an exclusive facility for “gifted” children.

An elegant and well-spoken woman, Rhea seems fascinated by Lena. Her teaching “methods” seem vague, but out of all the specialists Lena has seen so far, she is the only one who seems to understand and make a connection with her. At the very least, they seem to speak the same language. Rhea knows about this Matrix Lena has been talking about.

Rhea asks Lena if she wants to find out what the Matrix truly is. And when Lena agrees, Rhea takes the little girl to the Oracle to confirm her suspicions that she is a Potential.

Lena is taken to a tall building, riding all the way to the top floor with her little hand in Rhea’s. On the 64th floor, they enter a glass office in which an imperious looking blond woman sits, watching her with a piercing eye.

“Leave us.”

The woman orders sharply, slanting a glare at Rhea. She is at least 6 inches shorter than Rhea, even in heels, but her tone and her face brook no argument. Rhea retreats with a seething sneer, but she complies.

“Now, you,” the woman turns to Lena with a dark look and a raised brow. It fails to intimidate Lena, who has lived with Lillian Luthor’s pointed glares for the past three years of her life. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Lena merely blinks at her. “Because I know things.”

The woman scoffs. “So do I. Doesn’t make you special.” She gestures around her at her office with a spectacular view. “I know things too.”

Lena’s eyebrows rise as well. “Not everything.”

The woman’s glare intensifies, but Lena stares her down. After a moment, a corner of the woman’s mouth lifts, and she barks out a laugh. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

Lena clasps her hands behind her back. “So I’ve been told.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Lena nods. “You’re the Oracle.”

The woman snorts delicately. “Did Rhea tell you that?”

Lena regards her solemnly. “She didn’t have to.”

The woman’s eyes narrow at her, but Lena says nothing more. She is scrutinized for another moment before the woman smirks. “Alright. Since you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what you already know.”

Lena blinks at her, responding to the woman’s scrutinizing gaze in kind. “I know that you’re not human.”

Another laugh, this time louder. Piercing blue eyes gain a twinkle of mirth. “Very good. What else?”

“I know that you’re not real.”

The woman scoffs disdainfully. “Real is an abstract concept.”

“I know that I’m dreaming, and none of this is real.”

The mirth suddenly vanishes from the woman’s gaze, and her blue eyes stare at Lena intently. “What do you mean?”

Lena sweeps her little arms across the room. “This. All of this. Everything. It’s not real. It’s just a dream.”

The woman is leaning forward now. It looks to Lena as if she is holding her breath. “And what makes you think that?”

Lena chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Have you ever read Plato’s allegory of the cave?”

The woman’s eyebrows rise and an amused smile dances over her lips. “Of course.”

“It feels like that. Like the people chained to the walls of the cave, watching just shadows and reflections. Other people — even my parents, even Lex — they look around them and think that this is the real thing. But all we’re seeing are just shadows. Sometimes it makes me feel confused and blurry, like I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake up.”

The woman hums and her hands form a steeple under her chin as she continues to observe Lena.

"In the story, the prisoner who is freed into the sunlight was angry and in great pain after being in the dark for so long. Why would they go through that? Why not stay in the comfort of the darkness that they’ve known all their lives?”

Lena’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Because they would finally know the truth. They wouldn’t be living in a lie anymore. They would be free.”

A smile spreads across the woman’s face, and the nod she gives is almost approving. “Is that what you want?”

“Only if you tell me the truth.” Lena nods solemnly. “Will you tell me the truth, Oracle?”

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” The woman chuckles. “And one more thing. Call me Cat.”

Despite their animosity toward each other, both Cat and Rhea decide that Lena is more than ready for extraction.

The only problem is that Lena, at 6 years old, is one of the youngest children to be extracted so far. Because she’s so young, it’s decided that her family should be brought with her too. Lex, by then a teenager, is given a choice: to stay in the Matrix, or go down the rabbit hole, as it were.

Lex chooses to follow his family, and the Luthors are extracted by Rhea. They are brought on-board her ship, the Daxam. All four Luthors are taken to Zion, and told the truth about everything — the lie of the Matrix, the human harvest fields, and the fact that there is no going back.

That’s when it all goes to hell.

Lionel barely lasts three months.

Unable to accept the truth that his life of power and control was all a lie, and unwilling to believe that he now exists in a world where his name holds no weight, he somehow escapes Zion and finds his way to a human pod to try to inject himself back into the Matrix.

They search for him for weeks, and eventually they find him in the pod, impaled on the metal breathing hose stuffed into his mouth with the end sticking out the back of his head.

Lillian lasts longer, but this is no comfort.

Torn from her privileged life, her resentment begins to build and build, as she’s forced to accept her new reality.

Her perfect life was stolen from her. The high-paying job, the distinguished career, the unlimited influence, the beautiful house, the comfortable lifestyle — all gone. All apparently just a dream.

And now, Lillian has woken up to the dirt and drab and heat and toil of Zion’s underground, with nothing to show for her former life but the daughter she didn’t even ask for. The same daughter who is the very reason she’s trapped here now with no chance of going back.

She refuses to reconcile with her new reality, but she is no weakling like her husband. Instead, she lets the ugly, bitter ire fester inside her over the years, until it finally comes out.

One night, Lillian enters the rough, tiny cave that has become her unwilling home, creeps into the alcove carved into rock where her teenaged daughter sleeps and pours acid over her.

Lena’s screams wake others in the neighboring dwelling, and healers are immediately dispatched to tend to her wounds. Thankfully, Lena was turned away in her sleep, and the burns were limited to her back.

By the time her condition is pronounced stable, Lillian is gone.

Without her parents, Lena is taken in by Rhea to live with her, her husband Lar Gand and their infant son, Mon-El.

Rhea keeps Lena very close, almost jealously so. She prizes the young girl above all else in their household. Most of her time is devoted to teaching Lena, training her using the fight simulations and programs on the Daxam, instructing her on how to pilot the ship.

For Lena — who had grown up under Lillian’s growing resentment and bitterness, who had just survived a horrific attack on her by her own mother — Rhea is a godsend. Under Rhea’s maternal affection, Lena thrives. She pushes her own limits during her training, masters techniques with unparalleled speed and unerring accuracy, devours knowledge programs downloaded into her mind every time she’s plugged in. She blooms under Rhea’s freely-given praise, and works harder, starved as she was for acknowledgment and affection over the years.

As Rhea’s son, young Mon-El, grows up without displaying any unique abilities, he is often shunted to the side. Despite their age-difference, Lena makes a conscious effort to spend time with him, to give him the same nurturing Rhea is giving her.

She teaches Mon-El how to make repairs to the ship, explains how the thrusters work, how the pads keep the ship in balance. He’s most fascinated by the robotic armed exoskeletons that are kept at the dock for the city’s defense. He often asks Lena to take him to the bridge to watch them, and the two of them watch the exoskeletons being loaded, Lena leaning on the top rail, and Mon-El perched on the middle one, his skinny legs swinging in the air. As Lena smiles, the young boy boldly tells her that one day, he’ll pilot one of those.

It feels… nice. Almost like having a brother again. It feels like a second chance

After all, her own brother — well, that bridge was burned a long time ago, and Lena tries not to think about it.

But it’s hard to forget when she sees him all time, a nightmare come to life, whenever she’s plugged into the Matrix.

Lena will never forget the first time she saw her brother there.

Lex had abandoned them, had left his mother and sister in Zion years ago, as soon as he was of age. She’d tried to find him, had spent weeks, months, looking for him, to no avail.

Finally, Lena had been forced to accept that Lex had met their father’s fate. He could’ve been attacked by sentinels, gotten lost in the mechanical sewers, or worse, attempted the same thing Lionel had.

Either way, the result was the same, and the guilt and pain of it had been agony, but Lena had accepted it.

Until the day she met the Agent.

Most agents were already nigh indestructible, with their speed and brute strength, not to mention the internal communication they kept with each other through the program.

But this one… this one stayed on Lena’s tail with a dogged, malicious ferocity that she couldn’t shake off. It had been dangerously close several times already as he chased her throughout the dark, rain-soaked city streets. She couldn’t get a good lock on him, and it was all she could do to follow Jack’s instructions to the nearest extraction point.

Lena’s almost there, sliding into the booth, hand outstretched to grab the phone — when she sees it.

The Agent wearing her brother’s face, a feral smile stretching his lips as his fingertips brush the corner of her dark coat. The grin turns into a snarl as Lena lifts the phone to her ear, and he misses her by a millimeter.

It had been only a second, but… it was Lex.

Lena was sure of it. So sure that she had spent months hacking into the system with Brainy’s help, trying to find out what the hell was going on.

It takes six months of hacking into the mainframe to discover the truth. Lex had succeeded where their father had not. The son had surpassed the father.

Not only had Lex somehow managed to get himself reinserted into the Matrix, the anomaly of his presence in the code had also caused a glitch in the system itself.

It takes another encounter with Lex — in his new regalia of a generic black suit, bland tie and FBI-issued sunglasses — sneering at her as he points a gun at her head, to realize yet another knife-wound truth.

Her brother has become a virus in the Matrix.

________

Kara’s experience in the Matrix could not have been more different from Lena’s.

More than a decade before Lena was born, Kara Zorel was like any normal thirteen year old girl. She went to school, hung out with her friends, had a crush on the boy living next door. She got straight A’s, and volunteered at the local senior home.

Her quicksilver mind that could spot things others couldn’t was easily considered as part of her intelligence. She was a very smart girl, after all. Her obsession with puzzles and codes was easily filed away as a quirk or a phase she was going through until she found a new hobby.

Everything about her life seemed to be on track to become ordinary, until the day of the accident.

At least, they told her it was an accident. Kara doesn’t remember any of it. All she really remembers is waiting for a train at a subway station. She remembers her father mentioning a Trainmaster who would take them away, somewhere new. To a new home, her mother had said. [This is from the 3rd movie]

And then nothing.

Kara thinks she must have been dreaming, because she can remember being left alone in that subway station — the walls were blank and a sterile white, with nothing to indicate the presence of life except Kara herself sitting on the otherwise empty bench. She can remember the feeling of waiting, waiting endlessly for the nothing that would come — no trains, no other passengers, no one else at the station with her. She can remember running along the platform tirelessly, only to end up in the same place she’d started from. She remembers the feeling of being left behind and trapped and scared. Mostly scared.

And then the next thing she knows, she’s awake on a hospital bed with Eliza Danvers sleeping on the chair next to her.

The Danvers had found her on the train platform, curled up, unconscious, on the same bench she’d dreamed of. They’d thought she was a runaway, or a missing child, but the FBI agents who had come to Kara’s hospital room had told her that her parents were dead.

An accident, they’d said. A subway malfunction that had taken out a whole car. Under investigation, the man in sunglasses and a dark suit had reassured Jeremiah and Eliza in a monotonous voice.

With no one to claim her, no other family to speak of, Kara is taken in by the Danvers. They’re good people, kind and understanding when Kara wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares of being trapped in a white sea of nothingness.

When Kara wakes up crying and sweating, Eliza is there to soothe her and rock her in her arms until she fell asleep again. When she tells Jeremiah that everything is too loud and bright, he sits her down and teaches her to calm her thoughts and meditate.

Alex, who had gone from being an only child to having an anxious, high-maintenance little intruder in her room, is less than happy about the situation. She keeps her distance, and gives Kara cold glares from across the bedroom or ignores her completely.

Until one night when Alex sneaks back into their room from the concert she’d snuck out to earlier, and finds Kara sitting on one corner of her bed with her knees curled up. With Alex gone for most of the night, Kara had been alone and had refused to fall asleep, terrified of having nightmares again.

With only a little bit of grumbling, Alex tosses all their pillows and blankets onto the floor, and drapes one of her sheets over both their beds to make their first blanket fort. The first of many.

Curled up on the floor next to Alex, Kara sleeps soundly through the night for the first time since waking up without her parents.

Still, despite slowly settling in with the Danvers, Kara can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

It feels as if everything around her is just a little bit off-kilter. As if the world had somehow changed in the time she’d been unconscious. Or maybe she had. Either way, it feels as if both Kara and the world around her know on some level that she’s not supposed to be here. Perhaps it’s because she was meant to die along with her parents. But by some unknown anomaly, here she is, half of her present, half of her straining to join her mother and father wherever they are.

It’s not a reflection on the Danvers. Kara couldn’t have asked for a better family to care for her. And she cares for them too. Over time, Kara gains a sister she would die for in a heartbeat, instead of a roommate who barely tolerated her presence when she first arrived. Her definition of ‘mother’ slowly expands and makes room for Eliza in her heart. She finds a man to respect and admire in Jeremiah.

Still, the feeling of being out of place persists throughout the years, always in the back of Kara’s mind.

Tragedy strikes when Jeremiah disappears.

It happens quickly, too quickly. One day her foster father is there, the next he’s gone. The only clue the police get is the last voicemail on Jeremiah’s phone.

The message starts with Jeremiah’s voice, reminding Alex that he’ll be picking her up from softball practice later, then it cuts off abruptly without warning.

Ten seconds later, another voice is heard through the other end, this time a smooth monotone. It sounds nothing at all like Jeremiah, and it sends a chill down Kara’s spine.

“The Luthor girl escaped again. She has eluded us one too many times for a human. She cannot avoid the inevitable…. Send the Brother. Next time, she dies.”

Nothing is found at the scene but Jeremiah’s phone. No evidence, no ransom note, no explanation for the strange message, nothing to trace, nothing to at all to suggest that Jeremiah Danvers was there. The blank-faced FBI agents offer no sympathy when they inform Eliza of the news in a smooth, apathetic monotone.

[[In case it’s not clear, Jeremiah got turned into an agent by the other agents who were chasing Lena during one of the times she was plugged into the Matrix]]

Their little family is shocked and reeling, but they cling to one another in their grief. Kara remembers something her mother always used to say. Stronger together, Kara. Life is hard, and we cannot face it alone. We must be each other’s strengths. We are always stronger together.

Still, life goes on. Keeps moving on, even after tragedy and loss. Sometimes, Kara feels as if the world is in constant motion, its inertia having no time to waste on a young girl who feels as if she has been left behind.

The sense of alienation increases, and Kara is diagnosed with depression. Which only serves to increase her family’s concern, and puts a near-permanent look of worry in Eliza’s eyes.

So Kara puts on her brightest smile and hugs her foster mother. She talks more, smiles wider, laughs louder, and makes more friends to go out with so she’s not at home alone in her room which no longer has Alex in it.

Alex goes to college, then med school, the chip on her shoulder large enough to be seen from space. She’s determined to find out what really happened to her father, and Kara knows how stubborn she is.

But she only really finds out how serious Alex is when her older sister declares that she’s joining the FBI, and no amount of talking from either Kara or Eliza can dissuade her.

And it’s not as if Kara has a leg to stand on. At least Alex has a purpose, a direction. Meanwhile, Kara has no idea what she wants to do with her life. She meanders around after college, a little bit lost and floundering. She’s intelligent, her professors said, but she lacks focus.

Eventually, she gets hired at Catco as an assistant to the big boss herself, Cat Grant.

All of 5’4” in heels, the woman herself strikes fear into the heart of every intern roaming the halls. It’s impossible not to snap to attention when her private elevator dings and she steps out. Each click of her heels is a reminder of the power she wields, and honestly, Kara is a little terrified of her.

But she straightens her spine and her glasses, tucks her hair behind her ear, and refuses to be cowed.

And it’s as if Miss Grant takes it as a challenge to break her, because her demands become more and more unrealistic, more and more impossible. But something inside Kara tells her not to back down, to stare her right back, and wait her out. Cat Grant is a puzzle, and Kara has always been good at puzzles.

The key comes in the form of Carter Grant.

Cat tasks Kara to pick her son up from school one afternoon, and Kara finds the young boy waiting for her right outside the school gates. He’s a very sweet boy, a little shy, but he eventually tells Kara about this comic he’s been reading about a young superhero named Supergirl.

As he begins to brighten up talking about his new favorite character, Carter doesn’t notice the car coming from the other side of the street. Neither does Kara at first. But something inside her tells her to turn around.

Maybe it was a sound, an instinct, and unconscious observation too quick for her mind to consciously process. Whatever it was, it had her turning just in time to see the car heading straight for Carter.

She barely has time to pull the boy back to the sidewalk, and the car almost clips him. Almost.

“Are you okay??” Kara hurriedly checks Carter for any injuries or signs that he’s shaken up. Other than the boy’s wide eyes, he seems to be fine.

“That- that was amazing! You were so fast, Kara! You were like Supergirl! How did you do that?”

As they walk back home, Cart gushes about how awesome Kara’s save was, how she was as fast and strong as Supergirl. Kara laughs it off, but the relief that the boy is okay lingers.

The second the front door closes behind Kara, Carter pulls out a phone and scrolls through the contact list until he finds ‘Mom’.

When Cat answers, he whispers excitedly into the phone. “She did it! She was even faster than Lena by 0.02 seconds!”

“Good. Did she say anything else?”

“She mentioned her sister. Are you going to tell the Manhunter? Is J’onn going to pull them out? Or maybe Lena can come? I like it when she comes to visit.”

A rustle of paper in the background, and Cat drawls in an almost bored voice. “Not yet. She’s not ready.”

[[In this AU, Carter is a computer program designed to assist the Oracle. Kinda like Seraph in the movies. He and Cat have a very unusual relationship. He was just supposed to be a simple program to help ward her, but he was designed to be charming in an innocent and disarming way to help distract from his real purpose. Cat developed a fondness for him, so when he tries to protect her when she’s in danger, she ends up shoving him behind her and protecting him.]]

On the anniversary of Jeremiah’s disappearance, another tragedy rocks the Danvers family.

Alex Danvers disappears.

Eliza is inconsolable, but Kara… Kara is numb, at first. Denial is always the first instinct of the human mind when a shock is delivered to its system. There’s talk of a search, trying to find out where she might have gone, her usual routine, any places Alex frequents — it all rolls over Kara’s head. They’re looking for a body, but that’s not how Alex is gonna be found.

Unlike Jeremiah’s disappearance, Alex’s is not without a trail. She is an FBI agent after all. There will always be a trail, and like in most FBI cases, it can be found in the absence of one.

In this case, it’s Alex’s computer. It’s missing.

The more Kara thinks about it, the more it galvanizes her. Kara knows Alex, knows her quirks and her habits. She didn’t have many friends outside of work, mostly people from med school she’s since lost touch with. No, anything that happened to Alex would be connected to her work, and Alex kept all her work files in that computer.

She throws herself into finding it. Find it, and she finds Alex.

For months, Kara follows every lead, every loose thread she can find, all in the hope of finding the computer. Every time she comes across a dead end, she doggedly retraces her steps until she can find another lead. The chalkboard in the kitchen that used to house her grocery list desk becomes a list of all possible locations. Her desk at Catco is a disaster of papers and post-it notes — a receipt from Cat’s dry cleaners here, the number for Annie Leibovitz’s assistant there, and Alex’s bank statements piled on top.

All the while, Cat watches her. Observes her tenacity, her ability to find patterns that no one else would’ve noticed, her keen attention that allows her to find details that other people would’ve ignored.

Finally, after nearly a year of looking, Kara finds Alex’s computer in a security deposit box under the alias Alice Liddell.

It takes her all night, but Kara manages to gain access to Alex’s documents. She finds file after file on Alex’s investigation into Jeremiah’s disappearance. Articles on similar disappearances all over the world. Some incidents are identical to Jeremiah’s, some with more of a trail. The victimology is all over the place, but in certain cases, there is a disturbing pattern.

A number of the disappearances occur in National City, and nearly all of them have one thing in common. They’ve all been patients or relatives of patients at the Luthor Family Hospital — a stroke patient and his fiancee, a woman in a car accident, a man with a gunshot wound, an old lady with Alzheimer's and her widow, even three children from the cancer ward and one of their mothers. Most of these people were deceased, but there must have been some reason Alex thought otherwise. And if she was right, then there is something very disturbing going on in the Luthor Family Hospital.

Kara keeps searching the files, and finds a certain devolution in Alex’s notes. Towards the end, she seemed more and more disorganized, her thoughts more and more disjointed. And Kara feels a terrible sense of guilt at not noticing what her sister was going through.

Throughout the files, she finds multiple references Alex made to something called the Matrix. She stumbles upon a mess of a pdf that she’d originally thought was gibberish, but upon closer inspection actually more closely resembles computer code. And in the middle of the unintelligible tangle of letters and symbols, she finds a question.

What is the Matrix?

Just as Kara is trying to make sense of the question, a new message alert appears in Alex’s inbox. Kara stares at the screen. It originated from Alex’s own email. Frowning, she clicks on the message, and her eyes widen as she reads.

I’m alive.

Kara springs forward so fast, she almost dislodges the laptop from her kitchen counter. She tries multiple times to reply to the message, but nothing happens. Kara growls, and almost as if the computer can sense her frustration, another message appears.

I’m alive and I’m out.

Kara’s brows furrow. What? What the hell?

The Matrix still has you, Kara.

Kara’s frown deepens and she looks around her, checks the computer. Is this some kind of prank?

I’m sorry I had to leave, but you can’t follow. Not until you’re ready.

Ready for what, Kara thinks.

Ready to give it all up. Ready to wake up. You told me once that you felt like everything since you woke up in the subway station has felt strange, like a dream. You were right, it is. And you’ll find me, if you’re ready to wake up.

Kara’s jaw drops in shock.

Follow the white rabbit.

The message flashes across the screen for a moment, then the monitor goes black. Kara snaps it shut and pushes it as far away from her as she can.

That — what was that? A-a trick? A hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep and her hyperfixation?

She could check it again, turn the laptop back on and click on the messages again — but suddenly Kara is gripped by fear, and denial feels more like a comfort.

She packs away the computer, stowing it under the desk where she can’t see it, and goes to bed. She doesn’t sleep until 3 AM.

But of course, Kara is no coward. She’s never been one to back down to her fears. In the morning, armed with a cup of Noonan’s coffee and a clearer mind, she opens the laptop again.

She doesn’t quite have the courage to check the messages yet, but she finds another article. This time, about the [head] of the Luthor Family Hospital, a woman named Lena Luthor.

It takes no time at all for her quick mind to make a connection, but it takes a while for the rest of her conscious brain to catch up.

Luthor. She’d heard that name before. In a voicemail, the only thing left of Jeremiah Danvers. “The Luthor girl got away again.”

Lena Luthor.

That can’t be a coincidence. Alex had been looking into their dad’s disappearance, and the Luthor name has already come up more than once, and now a female Luthor.

All the research she does on Lena Luthor comes up with next to nothing. Other than business articles and some papers in several scientific journals, there’s very little mention of the woman. So far, all Kara knows is that Lena Luthor is the CEO of one of the leading tech companies in the world, dedicated to providing accessible technology and communication devices to billions of people all over the globe — their new L-Phones are popping up everywhere. She’s also apparently a brilliant scientist and researcher, invested in scientific research to help prevent and cure diseases. She also owns and is directly involved in the running of the Luthor Family Hospital, a facility known for innovative and experimental medicine.

And for all of her work and accolades, there has never been a single photograph of this woman past the age of 6. Nothing. This woman’s image has never been recorded in any way, in any kind of media, in any event, in all the years that she has been running L-Corp. How is that even possible?

Now, Kara’s definitely suspicious.

Three days after the computer is found — plenty of time for thinking, but not too much time to do something stupid, she thinks — Cat makes her move.

She summons Kara to her office and delivers her ultimatum, in the form of an offer.

“Y- You think I have what it takes to be a reporter?”

“You’re an intelligent woman, Keira. But more than that, you can see things others can’t. You observe far more than people give you credit for. You could have a bright future here at Catco.”

Cat surveys her intently over her glasses. “It’s your choice. You can take the job, or you can keep wasting your life going down this rabbit hole.”

Cat gestures toward Kara’s messy desk, but again Kara’s quick mind gives her a nudge. That’s the third reference she’s heard in as many days. Rabbit hole. Alice. White rabbit.

Kara asks Cat for time to think about it, but really, she’s already made her decision. She uses her connect as Cat’s assistant to set up an appointment, introducing herself as Kara Danvers from Catco, writing an article about the Luthor Family Hospital.

The assistant confirms that Miss Luthor would be delighted to give Catco a glimpse into the facility to bring awareness of the work they do, and confirms the time.

When Kara arrives, she is directed to the children’s cancer center. When she sees the whimsical mural of a white rabbit hopping along a trail on the walls, she knows she’s at the right place.

Kara follows the mural until she reaches a room at the end of the hall. A soft feminine voice floats down the hallway and reaches Kara’s ears.

“To begin with, tell me, do you think that these men would have seen anything of themselves or of one another except the shadows cast from the fire on the wall of the cave that fronted them?

How could they, he said, if they were compelled to hold their heads unmoved through life?”

Kara walks closer, drawn to the sound. She stops just outside the door to what is clearly a child’s hospital room. A little girl in white pajamas and a colorful bonnet sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed, listening to the dark-haired woman sitting on the chair by her side. The woman’s back is turned to Kara, but she can see the book she’s reading from. Plato.

“By Zeus, I do not, said he.

Then in every way such prisoners would deem reality to be nothing else than the shadows of the artificial objects.”

“Quite inevitably.” The little girl on the bed quotes with a smile. Kara hears a soft, amused hum from the woman.

“Consider, then, what would be the manner of the release and healing from these bonds… When one was freed from his fetters and compelled to stand up suddenly and turn his head around… and lift up his eyes to the light, and in doing all this, felt pain…”

Kara sees the moment the reader realizes that she’s there. The woman’s head turns just the slightest, and Kara can see her sharp, elegant profile silhouetted in the light. She keeps reading, but at this point, they both know she’s aware of Kara’s presence. Kara continues to listen silently.

“What do you suppose would be his answer if someone told him that what he had seen before was all a cheat and an illusion… But that now, being nearer to reality and turned toward more real things, he saw more truly?”

Just then, the little girl’s eyes snap up to meet Kara’s, and big black eyes blink owlishly at her. “Miss Lena, we have a visitor.”

The woman finally turns, and Kara gets her first glimpse of Lena Luthor. Cut-glass green eyes are perceptive as they take Kara in, and a small smile plays on the corner of red lips.

“So we do, Zuri.”

She sets the book down on the bed beside the child and rises from her seat, a pale hand extended. "Kara Danvers, I presume?"

It takes Kara a second to reply, unable to take her eyes off the woman. There’s something arresting about her, something that could probably stop anyone in their tracks. Even the way she tips her head to survey Kara is fluid and mesmerizing.

Clearing her throat, Kara takes Lena Luthor’s proffered hand. “Yeah – uh, yes.”

The woman's smile grows. "I've been expecting you."

For a moment, the words make Kara's stomach flutter, then the 'duh' moment hits her. Of course she'd been expecting her, they had an appointment. Kara's face flushes red. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Miss Luthor."

Green eyes gain a look of amusement and crinkle at the corners. Lena Luthor looks as if she has a secret, or like she’s in on a joke Kara doesn't know. "Not as much as I have, I'm sure."

Kara's brows furrow in confusion, but before she can ask the woman what she means, the Luthor bends down and kisses the top of the child's head, before heading out the door and gesturing for Kara to follow.

[[I just love the idea of Lena reading the Allegory of the Cave to the children like she did when she was a kid, as her way of preparing them, a way of telling them that yes, extraction will hurt, it won't be easy to accept the truth, but they will be free].

[Also in this AU, the extraction points used to be the pay phones like in the movie, except those got phased out once the machines figured out that’s what the resistance was using. So Lena developed the L-phones, and made it so one would always be easily accessible. That’s the work she does at L-Corp]]

After their tour of the hospital concludes, Lena watches Kara walk out through the double doors, throwing a friendly wave behind her. As soon as she's out of sight, she pulls out an L-phone.

"Well, she’s persistent, I'll give you that."

"Told you. Who do you think she got it from?”

“I see stubbornness runs in the family.” Lena hums in amusement.

A chuckle from the other end of the line. “You have no idea.”

"How close is she?"

Alex’s voice turns business-like. "Well, she’s made the connection to you, and Kelly’s seeing some sizeable fluctuations in the code, so I'd say she’s getting there. J’onn thinks she might be ready soon. He says she’s responding quickly for someone who hasn’t had as long to adjust. Sooner if you prepare her, probably.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Rhea,” Lena can hear the seething disdain Alex’s voice, and thinks her mentor is probably standing over Alex’s shoulder as they speak. “Would like me to remind you that the sooner we pull out my sister —“ Lena can almost see her glare at Rhea. “The sooner you can get back to the Daxam, and this can ‘all be over with’.”

Lena shakes her head. “I’m not pulling her out before she’s ready. The consequences could be disastrous.”

“Yeah? Try telling that to your Captain.”

They’re interrupted by an excited young voice. “Hi, Lena!”

“Mon-El?”

Alex snorts over the line. “Yeah, can you believe her? She brought the kid over just to get you to ‘speed things up’.”

“When are you coming back, Lena? I miss you! I snuck into the dock last week, but M’gann caught me. She said she’d teach me how to make shells if I promised not to go past the bridge again. And Imra asked if she could come with us the next time we go to the bridge to see the loaders, I told her yeah. That’s okay, right?”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Lena can’t help but smile a bit at the young boy’s enthusiasm. “Of course she can. I’ll be back soon, Mon-El. Stay out of trouble, and do what your ranking officer says.”

“Okay, kid, you heard the lady. Go bother Brainy and Kelly at operations. It's about time you learn to read code anyway."

Lena can hear the boy grumbling in the background, but he obeys. As soon as he's out of earshot, Lena goes back to business.

“Start a trace for Kara's pod location, and standby. Be ready to plug in when I tell you to.”

"Copy. J’onn’s gonna try to get us as close as he can, but it's the fields. We can never be too careful. And Lena…? Try to make it easy for her."

Alex’s voice softens at her request, her concern for her sister evident in every word, and Lena understands. Just as Alex understands that there is nothing easy about the truth Kara will have to see.

"I'll do what I can."

This is not the last time Kara pays her a visit.

Under the guise of her article, Kara returns to Lena again. And again.

The first time she comes over under the guise of an interview, she stays until lunch. And then takes Lena to lunch, partly to make up for ruining her schedule, and partly because the CEO confesses that she often forgets to eat throughout the day.

They eat at Kara’s favorite lunch spot, Noonan’s, where Kara is aghast to learn that Lena has never tried any of their desserts despite the café being less than a block away from L-Corp. They end up trying nearly every dessert on the menu. Or at least Lena samples a little bit of everything, and Kara finishes it all off.

They part, with some reluctance on Kara’s end, three hours past Kara’s allotted time, but Lena assures her that it was worth clearing her schedule, considering how much she enjoyed Kara’s company.

It’s only after she’s no longer in Lena’s presence that Kara realizes she’d all but forgotten about her purpose for coming, which was to interrogate her about the suspicious disappearances at the Luthor Family Hospital, and about Lena’s possible involvement in Alex’s own disappearance.

She returns, this time with the flimsy excuse of bringing Lena lunch now that she knows the CEO won’t remember it herself. Lena suggests they go out to the nearby city park to enjoy her break there.

Lena leads her to a bench on a hill and they sit there quietly, enjoying their view of the park. Lena gives Kara a shy smile. “I like to come out here sometimes. When everything becomes… too much. Sometimes, everything around me just feels so wrong and… fake. Especially with what I do. It feels like none of it, none of this is real.”

Kara turns to look at her fully, a crinkle in her forehead, and Lena wonders if she's pushing it. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever had that feeling where… you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or awake? And you’re not quite sure if anything around you is real or not?”

Lena chances a look at the other woman. Kara is looking back at her, eyes wide and intent. It takes a moment, one long moment where Kara is just staring at her, as if trying to puzzle her out. Then she nods.

“Yeah. All time.”

“That’s how I used to feel.” Lena holds her gaze, steady green meeting wondering blue. Kara is so close right now, so close that Lena could tell her. How easy it would be if Lena could convey the truth just by looking into Kara’s eyes. But she’s not ready yet. Lena drops her gaze with a soft laugh.

“I guess I was just thinking, if none of this is real, then none of my problems there would be real, either.” She gestures back at L-Corp with a wry smile.

Kara takes the bit, and her smile softens, blue gaze losing some of its intensity.

Kara fails her mission again that time. And the next. And the next. It feels as if she forgets her problems when she’s with Lena. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like she’s out of place. The world doesn’t feel so wrong when she’s with Lena, or at least, it doesn’t bother Kara as much. She feels like… herself.

As for Lena, she knows they’re running out of time, and that the agents will catch wind of them soon. Especially since Kara is on the precipice of the truth.

But for the first time, Lena finds herself delaying the inevitable. It’s unlike her — the Potential who has spent her whole life freeing as many minds from the Matrix as she can; the second-highest ranking officer and chief engineer of the Daxam, who seizes every situation with a level head and a calm command.

“What are you doing, Lena?”

Rhea’s voice is an imperious snap, even over the line. “You have never spent this long in the Matrix since I pulled you out. You’re putting yourself in danger for a simple extraction. It shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“No extraction is ever simple. I told you, she’s not ready.”

“I know you and that Oracle—” the word is practically a hiss in her mentor’s mouth. “—think that this woman is a Potential, but if she really were that special, she would’ve been ready a long time ago. You were ready long before I found you.”

“This is different—“

“Why? Because you’re sweet on her?”

Lena’s eyes narrow. “You know that’s not why.”

As soon as Lena’s tone gains an authoritative edge, Rhea softens. “I know, my dear. But you know how I worry about you being plugged in for so long with… Lex out there. Besides, you have been neglecting your duties on the ship. Your crew needs you, Mon-El needs you. Come back home, Lena.”

Lena relents. “I will. Soon.”

But ending her time with Kara is easier said than done.

It may be selfish, but around Kara, Lena feels lighter. Her responsibilities don’t weigh as much, and the bleakness of war vanishes in the company of someone so earnest and warm and hopeful. Kara is… resilient. In spite of all that she’s been through, she remains strong, determined, and most incredible of all, kind.

Lena watches Kara with the children — the youngest Potentials, who see the wrongness of the world around them, but aren’t ready yet to be pulled out — and watches her pull gap-toothed smiles and belly laughs out of even the most solemn ones.

She extends this kindness, even to Lena — over daily reminders to eat and take care of herself, to lunch dates she tags Lena along to because she thinks Lena will forget to eat otherwise.

Once, after a successful extraction of one of Lena’s children, a somber Kara brings a small bouquet of plumerias to the little girl’s empty room. She finds Lena sitting next to the child’s empty bed.

“I’m so sorry.” Kara plucks a single plumeria from the bouquet, before setting the flowers on the girl’s pillow.

Lena shakes her head, a serene smile on her face. “Don’t be. She’s free. She’s in a better place now.”

Kara, not understanding her words, gives her a sad smile. She takes Lena’s hand and presses the single plumeria into her fingers. “I’m sure she is.”

Every day, Lena fails to tell Kara the truth, wanting to prolong their time together. And most of all, wanting to spare Kara for just a little longer. Lena can’t bear the thought of being another person who adds to everything Kara’s gone through, of being the reason why that smile dims a little more, or worse, never appears again at all.

Her hesitation nearly costs them everything.

[autosuns]

Of Ambulon and Pharma and doomed amica endura

I'll preface that I'm the last person to try and explain my ships by how canon they are and this is very much the same case of me just entertaining the idea and what their relationship represents and what role they play in a wider story, this is not an invitation for discourse or a debate. It's just me rambling on why I like the ship so much, think Pharma and Ambulon are narrative foils, while using some canon stuff and word of god.

Jokes about hamburger or hot dog or literally anything regarding Ambulon's death will end in block idc I think it's obnoxious 👍

CW for robot gore, discussions of torture, you know, the package that comes with DJD and Decepticons and MTMTE.

When it comes to Ambulon and Pharma's relationship, I think it's fair to start with bare bones, yeah?

I'm going to start with each character individually, what my take on them is, so we're all on the same page.

Ambulon

So, the basics are:

Ambulon was part of the failed combiner project of decepticons, the first combiner at that. He has horrible alt mode, that brings him a lot of shame, so he prefers to keep it a secret. He switched to the Autobots, eventually.

We don't know for certain if he was created for the project, or was one of the "volunteers". What we do know though, is that he's an MTO specifically, not just constructed cold, and MTOs were a concept of war.

Meaning, he cant be older than the war. Meaning, in my personal opinion, he was either made for some operation, then snatched by Shockwave for the project, or was created already specifically for the project.

There, I think, comes a timeline conflict. It feels unfeasible, to me, that MTOs were made this early into the war, by Decepticons. What I think happened, is that Shockwave did try to experiment on other Decepticons to figure out and develop on Jhiaxus' research, but once MTOs as a concept came into the picture, it became infinitely easier to just have an alt mode pre-made for a mech.

Unless when Shockwave said he was going to give Megatron a gestalt he meant he'll postpone it for 4mil years and do it a little before he succeeded with Devastator so Ambulon deserting LITERALLY as he is picked out for the combiner project JUST to avoid it makes this line from him especially funny:

Boy for all we know you're not even 15 years old.

Also the idea that character like Ambulon did that out of some sort of cowardice, that THIS was his breaking point to join Autobots, feels wrong.

In-text it becomes even less likely Ambulon had a life before the project, as his name "Ambulon" seems to be the only one he ever had (judging by his statue post on Necroworld).

I think why I'm getting a Little long-winded explaining Ambulon is to draw a better picture on his experience with Decepticons, Specifically Shockwave.

That to say, he had a horrible one. He knows better than anyone what Decepticons are capable of and how far they will go/what Megatron would allow. Especially once DJD comes into the picture.

And it just emphasizes the way Ambulon in the end of it all chose kindness. The first issues he appeared in cement it very well, especially since most of his intro we get from First Aid's point of view.

Ambulon is tetchy, can be a gearstick sometimes

Ambulon took pity on the Decepticons he thought were hunted down by the DJD

Ambulon convinced Pharma to let them stay

The Genericons showed their scars to Ambulon specifically

Ambulon gets passionate about hate crimes concerning one's shape/alt mode

Ambulon is "tetchy" and rejects First Aid's idea because he's concerned that it's too risky

For Ambulon to put your own life on the line to save a single life is an act of selfishness (also stemming out of his concern for First Aaid, imo)

Ambulon let the Genericons share a cell

To sum it up: Ambulon is very greatly concerned for the greater good and treating people without bias, Decepticon or Autobot, especially when there's any sort of discrimination involved.

(Using Genericons and Triple M as a tool with Ambulon was a very clever foreshadowing for Ambulon's situation, but it is a general theme that runs in these issues and Ratchet's/medics character arcs, it's the functionism, one's shape and purpose in life, but it is a completely different post to make. Just let's keep the theme of one's shape and purpose in mind.)

The thing is, Ambulon is who he is by choice. His Decepticon past is always showing, whether he wants it or not, but all he wants, essentially, is to help people and treat them with kindness. He's a "gearstick", but he's a gearstick with a big spark. He saw the greater cruelty in Decepticons and made a choice to never participate in it.

Ambulon is an MTO who made his life and became what he wants to be despite everything: Decepticons, his alt-mode, biases, all of that. He's true to himself and his intentions.

I'm gonna also get this out of the way that Ambulon's established character is continuously ignored, dumbed down and twisted: the point is that I do believe JRO didn't think about him that much or that deep, and what he did with him did not retain with him into further issues. That is to say, "You're gonna let Dr DJD cut us in half?" is a dumb fucking line to come out of Ambulon specifically, makes no sense, too snarky and cruel all things considered, and while I think it's also very funny it jsut shows Ambulon's accidental insignificance. Ok. That's all.

Pharma

Oh boy this one's a doozy. Okay, listen, I'll try to get more brief with it, try to get straight to the point, but Pharma has so much nuance around him on a greater scheme of things that it might also just be it's own post. SO we'll just try to focus on his persona and relations to others.

Pharma is a doctor of talent on par with Ratchet, if not actually better. He used to be friends with him, he's implied to have used to do medical service in the new institute, and eventually was stationed on Delphi by Prowl, practically abandoned by Ratchet. There, he ends up being blackmailed by Tarn, ending up killing his patients to meet the increasing quota, being led to the brink of creating a virus that he exposes the facility to in hope to close it down and escape it scot-free. Obviously, because of Ratchet, it didn't work, the rest is history.

Unlike Ambulon with his 3 panels and a half of screentime worth talking about character-wise, Pharma is a combination of multiple things at once, his place as an Autobot, his connection to the DJD, his act, and most of his actual character we get from very few shots of him from the past and what people say of him, and just a little of his behavior at Delphi before his crime is revealed.

So I think we'll focus specifically on the Decepticon part when it comes to Pharma cuz it's much easier to talk about.

Pharma vehemently, without hiding it, hates Decepticons.

It will go into even bigger field of speculations than trying to piece Ambulon's character together for why he hates them so much. It could both just be a thrown in line for the story to flow (Genericons) and act as a foreshadowing (DJD blackmail), the fact of the matter is, he hates Decepticons, he does not have pity for Decepticons, and if DJD did not play into his hatred, years of war for sure did.

(Also worth mentioning that in the issue #4, the paralleling story is Tailgate learning about the war and backing off on his decision to be a Decepticon. The entire build up works very well, imo, and plays into just how much it should hit you when Pharma turns out providing for DJD, along with the choice of Ambulon to not be a Decepticon anymore.)

You see, I think Pharma is incredibly caring person. He cares for his patients and he cares for his people. He takes his work extremely seriously. He's willing to be a donor for his patient and he's still conducting research to cure illnesses when there was no legitimate point for him to do that anymore. He's not just a surgeon, but he's a virologist/epidemiologist.

But, probably when we ask ourselves, "So if he was such a wonderful doctor, equal to Ratchet, someone Ratchet recognizes, why wasn't he the Chief Medical Officer in the first place?"

I think it's mostly his personality. It's his hubris and ego. It's also the inherent societal bias of Cybertron when it comes to jets - though this part of worldbuilding isn't that consistent, he is a forged jet AND a doctor.

And that's also why I think he doesn't believe in that "forged" functionism bullshit. BUT thats another post of its own (take a shot every time i say that in this post).

Let's just bullet point this:

Pharma is a talented doctor who's good and dedicated to his job. Practically nothing is impossible for him and it becomes a focal point of his conflict with Ratchet, too.

That said, Pharma's shape is what, I think, is responsible for his hubris. He's a jet, he's forged, he's a doctor, but he's a doctor because HE, PHARMA, is good. Nothing to do with some God. (which is different from Ratchet's internalized functionism)

Pharma hates Decepticons, he tried to kill the DJD, and it may seem like he pushed it all on Ambulon because he was a Decepticon, but I don't think that's the case. Specifically because of this:

He does not see Ambulon as a Decepticon, and it was just panicked shitty lie he had to quickly come up with on the spot.

Pharma feels guilt for his actions, and after killing Ambulon, he's actively taunting First Aid to kill him.

Pharma is a jet doctor trapped in the loop of self-sabotage after being exploited, psychologically tortured and left for dead, after a poor attempt of saving face. Pharma is a jet doctor who embraced his new look, but couldn't live with it, far from accepting it. Furthermore, his body is used by Adaptus himself, where the only thing he could do is trying to get his body back, to help his comrades, only to end up dying, again.

That's where I'm going to use a single word of God that makes, all in all, a lot of sense.

"Grurdging respect" is about best way to describe Pharma and Ambulon.

Now since I've reached the image limit on this post it's relentless rambling and speculations time!

You probably can already tell where I'm going with this. I think Pharma and Ambulon direct inversions of each other.

Decepticon gone Autobot as a choice - Autobot gone rogue out of blackmail and fear of failure

MTO doing what he wants to do and taking control of his body and life, disconnected from a gestalt or his "purpose" - A forged jet trying to continue his career of a doctor despite all the odds but who's agency is continuously taken, not only by others but by his own ego

Where they overlap, is their desire to do what they want. Where they differ, is one's sincerity and other's toxicity.

Ambulon is someone Pharma would never be, and someone he, on meta level, wishes he was more like. He doesn't want to be Ratchet, even if we think a little about his obsession and desire to prove to Ratchet that he's better, he wants to be someone Ratchet would respect. And in the end of the day, it all didn't matter anymore, because clearly Ratchet never respected him enough in the first place: "waging a war on his body", taking body parts for his own gain (hands), that Pharma didn't even really care about anymore. It was personal. He wanted Ratchet to hurt.

All of this, ultimately, is justified. Little who would respond to knowing someone who betrayed you (and whom you, also, betrayed) also breached boundaries of your autonomy. It's just basic decency. I don't believe TFs never heard of that or don't follow it, in some fashion. Maybe it's more loose, but for the purpose of drama and villification of Pharma, it was convenient, I guess.

See, Pharma is just inherently, like anyone, very flawed. The circumstance he's put in and the war led to the worst of his qualities spike. And in relation to Ambulon, it's the inverse of a person who, having seen the horrors of the war, having been through the horror and the existential dread of being in a gestalt, chose kindness anyway.

"Grudging respect". A jet doctor, a genius, and an ex-soldier MTO, who made the choice of helping people. An ex-Decepticon, too, no less.

See how it could've developed into something more?

Both eager to do their job, Ambulon is a perfect stabilizer for Pharma's general emotional response to things. He may be a good doctor, but he's prone to acting and saying things before really thinking about it. Ambulon is capable of convincing him and giving a good argument, without it being personal.

"Grudging respect" with Ambulon working with one of the best doctors out there, who's work is going to be invaluable even after his death.

And if things worked out differently? Do you think Ambulon wouldn't be there to sympathize with Pharma's trauma regarding DJD? Do you think Ambulon wouldn't pity Pharma for what Tarn put him through? Ambulon? The Decepticon who was there? The one who even should fear DJD the most? The one who might've even triggered DJD once he was so close on the radar?

He might've confided in Pharma in the first place, as someone literally second in charge after him.

Pharma and Ambulon are defying Adaptus as a societal concept, among with the existential idea of your shape dictating your purpose. And within the text they don't just defy, they end up suffering the most out of it - Pharma ends up in a position where his hands are praised more than he, as a person, is, Ambulon dies by these hands, and his death dooms Pharma as well.

I hope it was comprehensive enough, i WISH i could include more images to prove my point. The amica endura would've been insane. If only the circumstance was different.

[shybunnie20]

Bearded Eddie: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

★Invitation ★My Masterlist

Summary: After nine years of living separate lives and carrying the weight of unresolved emotions, destiny intervenes when you and Eddie unexpectedly cross paths at your high school reunion.

Author's Note: I've been working on this since February and I'm so proud of how it turned out.

1994 AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Established past relationship. Reader & Eddie are roughly 28 yrs old. POVs are first told separately, refer to the time stamps! Reader is depicted as introverted but it's a minor detail.

Word count: 11.4k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! Substance consumption, mentions of sex, includes swearing.

You’re not sure why you came here tonight, it’s not like high school was particularly memorable for you. Be that as it may, you’ve been feeling homesick lately and you needed an excuse to be in Hawkins. What better way to satiate a craving for nostalgia than to attend the class of 1984’s ten-year reunion?

As you stride through the double doors and enter the gymnasium, you’re taken aback by how dated it looks. Even though the light fixtures and basketball hoops have been replaced, it looks just as it had when you were here last. Judging by the meticulously buffed floor, it’s evident that the basketball team continues to receive the majority of funding.

The glossy court is dotted with circular folding tables that are draped with forest-green plastic runners. Each table has a bundle of balloons that are secured by gold foil weights. The decorations are fairly tacky but you expected nothing less. On the far end of the gym, the makeshift dance floor in front of the DJ booth lacks participation.

At the welcome table, you use the provided Sharpie to sign a sticky name tag. You blow on the wet ink to expedite the drying time because the last thing that you need is a jet-black stain on your favorite top. It feels silly to be wearing a name tag at a reunion but the harsh reality is that the majority of your graduating class doesn’t know your name; very few bothered to learn it in the first place.

While scanning the sparse crowd, your eyes land on a petite woman who is waving you over. You catch up with Mary, your junior-year lab partner. She introduces you to her husband but you swiftly lose interest in the interaction because they’re droning on about how difficult it’s been to get their son into a good preschool.

You hadn’t anticipated feeling this drained from a single conversation. You politely excuse yourself from the mind-numbing chat and scour the room for an available seat. The one that you choose has three people seated on the opposite side and they eye you while you pull out a chair. They look vaguely familiar so you flash them a polite grin. They resume their discussion without further acknowledgment of your company.

In front of you lies a pamphlet with “Go Tigers!” printed across the front in large block letters. Thumbing through the pages, you glance at the various pictures of high-achieving students who have since created prosperous careers for themselves. You look closely at the photos and then search for the individuals in the room, seeking to compare their old appearances to their present ones. It occurs to you how much beauty and fashion trends have changed in the past decade.

Most of the women here have abandoned their Aqua Net and mousse-finished perms. There are multiple pixie cuts, but what stands out the most are the emulations of the choppy and layered “Rachel haircut” from that new show Friends that your pals force you to watch with them.

You push air through your nose when you get a load of the self-appointed queen bee of your class. She’s wearing a gown that is unquestionably inspired by Princess Diana’s revenge dress. She looks ridiculous compared to the sea of casual attire surrounding her. It doesn’t surprise you though, she came from money and she likely married rich too. If anything, it would be out of character for her to be wearing jeans.

The booklet’s various snapshots make you wonder who achieved their goals or started families. Who peaked in high school and hasn't found any purpose in life? Who’s been arrested or fired from their jobs? As you reach the last page, you’re caught off guard by a large hand being placed on your shoulder. It makes you jump in your seat but when you turn to see who it is, the tension is alleviated from your body.

Scott Daley beams at you with his remarkably pearly whites. The five years of braces paid off and he’s obviously gotten professional whitening done. “Is that who I think it is?” He withdraws his hand from your shoulder and takes a half step back.

You’re enlivened as you get to your feet. “No way!” The hug is brief but not awkward. “How have you been?”

His blonde feathered brows arch gleefully at your reaction. “Not too bad,” Scott motions to the seat beside yours. “May I?”

“Yeah, of course!” After returning to your seat, you take notice of his gel-slicked waves and the ironed Polo shirt that clings to his broad shoulders.

Scott angles himself to face you and shamelessly checks you out. “You look phenomenal, truly.”

Warmth spreads across your body because you’re not used to men being so forward with you. Although, this isn’t a stranger. Scott moved into your neighborhood when you were eleven. Your mothers became close friends so naturally you wound up being the best of friends. You didn’t sit next to anyone else on the school bus or at lunch; you were practically attached at the hip.

Scott wasn’t always this handsome. When you met him, he was nerdy and excelled academically. He may have been scrawny but his competitiveness made up for his shortcomings. He was motivated by receiving awards like trophies and plaques. Scott Daley had his eye on the prize, which was attaining a perfect report card and being elected as class president. He had an insatiable hunger for success and that was something you found fascinating.

After you became freshman at Hawkins High, you grew apart. You didn’t have any classes together due to Scott being in advanced courses. As one would expect, you fell into different social groups. Rather, he joined the tennis team and buddied up with the jocks while you faded into the background and kept a low profile. There weren't any hard feelings because you naturally grew apart.

You listen attentively while Scott fills you in on his experiences. He graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame. This isn’t shocking in the slightest, it’s a very prestigious school and he certainly has the brains to thrive in such a setting. He mentions having invested in a starter company that took off and now he gives entrepreneurial seminars around Indiana. Scott also mentions that he’s divorced with no kids.

It’s a relief to hear that the relationship with his high school sweetheart didn’t work out because you’re in the same boat, minus getting married and divorced. You’re glad that you’re not the only one here who’s companionless. It’s embarrassing to attend get-togethers like these as a single person but you’re feeling less insecure now that you know Scott has already had a failed marriage by the age of 28.

When he begins to gab about the parasailing classes he’s been taking, you gradually zone out. You don’t mean to but you can’t listen to the rambling any longer. Even though you’re visibly on another planet, Scott obliviously continues with how great his life has been. You immediately regret glancing away.

Your lungs are packed to the brim with fine sand and your throat fills like the stem of an hourglass. You didn’t anticipate seeing him.

Eddie looks older, even from a distance. The deeply set lines under his eyes make him look tired but the dark scruff brings an enticing liveliness to his fair complexion. His boyish charm is long gone but he’s a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Eddie’s charcoal dress shirt is undone four buttons from the neck, revealing the band tee he’s wearing underneath it. An eyebrow and nose piercing is a tricky look to pull off but it suits him. The array of black tattoos that adorn his veiny forearms is on display from his lazily rolled-up sleeves.

His left arm is slung around the shoulders of a dark-haired woman while he converses with two other people. When Eddie flashes his signature smile, your heart is carved from its rightful place in your chest. You’ve tried so hard to forget how much you missed being the reason he beams; back then, he only smiled like that for you. Up until now, you were fully convinced that you’d gotten over him. Yet, being merely fifteen feet away from Eddie causes bitterness to unearth. The resentment was buried but it never decomposed.

The woman can’t possibly be his wife because you vividly recall that Eddie didn’t subscribe to the concept of marriage. It’s not that he thought there was anything wrong with it per se. In the midst of one of his innumerable non-conformist rants, Eddie expressed that neither a ring nor ceremony is necessary to prove your devotion to someone. He made a good point because signing a certificate doesn’t lower the chances of a devastating breakup. Scott can certainly speak to that.

It wasn’t a big deal to you and if anything, you were indifferent toward his take on the topic. You agreed that vowing fidelity doesn’t have to be lavish and elaborate. But there was a small part of you that imagined a special day where you get to feel like a princess. The desire wasn’t all-consuming and by no means something that you strived for. Even so, it stung to know that wasn’t what your future with Eddie was going to look like. All in all, he wasn’t the marriage type and you accepted that.

A pair of binoculars would be awfully useful to check this lady’s finger for a ring, just to be sure. You’re struggling to put a name to the face. Her hair color is modern but her crunchy roller-curled bangs are a blast from the past. That’s the detail that yields the recollection of her identity.

Karie West. You had classes together but you never saw her and Eddie exchange so much as a glance. She was at the bottom of the upper-crust crowd because her family has run the local hardware store for generations. Not exactly brag-worthy but it made her somebody. Eddie and Karie are an odd pairing but maybe his preferences changed. To be fair, she’s pretty and you don’t recall having an issue with her back in the day. She wasn’t anything to write home about but she was nice enough. The real question is, did he raise his standards or did she lower hers?

Is Eddie sweet to her like he was to you? Do they talk about the future like you and Eddie did? He used to insist that you’d join Corroded Coffin on the road when they inevitably made it big. Over the years, you kept an eye on the tabloids at the supermarket to see if his band made their way onto the front covers.

Initially, you arranged to start your lives together after graduation but the plan was squashed. You walked the stage to get your diploma but Eddie didn’t. You stayed in Hawkins for another year and worked odd jobs while you waited for him to finish school. You sacrificed your personal goals to support him but Eddie didn’t graduate in 1985 either.

When it came down to it, you couldn’t bear to continue setting your aspirations aside when Eddie showed no initiative to pursue his diploma. In due course, a letter came in the mail informing you that you’d been awarded a full-ride scholarship to the university of your dreams. 

You and Eddie talked about a community college that was three towns over but that wasn’t what you wanted. You knew you wouldn’t reach your full potential if you went that route. There were a lot of things that you wanted for your future and Eddie was one of them. At the time, you assumed that he would be ecstatic to hear the news regarding the incredible opportunity you’d been presented with.

It was a toasty summer evening. and like most days, you were lounging around and basking in the adoration you had for one another. His heavy-lidded mocha eyes studied your face while you snorted at his jokes. On your twin-size bed, Eddie was laying on his back with you nestled comfortably under his arm. He was sharing the ideas that he had for his next tattoo. You drew the concepts he described onto the velvety skin of his forearm with your fingertip. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed as your featherlight touch painted your interpretations in his mind. At some point, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. Upon your return over a minute later, your heart stopped when you saw the cream-colored paper in his grip. “Are you shitting me?” he boomed with a piercing glare. “You’re fucking leaving?” “Hold on, let me explain-” You stepped forward to capture his free hand but he yanked it away before contact could be made. “I don’t see anything that needs explaining.” Eddie’s eyes had never looked more ablaze. “This school is hundreds of miles away. What happened to our plan?” His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched as he boomed. “God, all you ever do is think about yourself. What about me, you’re just gonna leave me here?” Your red-rimmed eyes conveyed the harm done by the biting tone of his voice. “Why would you say something like that?” The blood in your veins began to boil and your face became feverish. “You don’t need to get so upset. We’re gonna make it work, we’ll talk on the phone every day and you’ll come to visit me during the holidays.” Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms with no regard for the letter being crumpled under his bicep. “You’ve convinced yourself it’ll be that easy, huh? You’ve lost your mind if you think being this far apart will be a piece of cake.” “I need to take this scholarship,” your eyes welled and your voice began to break. The defensiveness withered away with each word that you spoke. “This is a huge opportunity for me.” “I had no clue that you wanted to get outta here so damn bad.” Eddie’s voice dropped to a growl. “You weren’t even gonna tell me, were you?” You bunched the bottom of your shirt into your fist and squeezed so hard that your knuckle cracked. “I was going to but I was afraid of you reacting like this.” Eddie’s frown deepened. “Y’know what? I’ll make this easy for you then.” He crushed the letter into a ball and dropped it at your feet. “Since you’re doing what’s best for you, I’m gonna do what’s best for us.” Eddie stepped around you and stopped in the doorway. “We’re through. So uh- good luck with everything.”

In 103 seconds, the years you’d spent together were thrown to the wayside. You couldn’t wrap your head around how easily he threw in the towel at the mere proposal of attempting long distance. Apparently, you weren’t worth the trouble.

From thereon out, every waking moment was nothing short of hollow. For a week following the event, you stayed near the phone; but when it rang, it wasn’t him. You half-expected Eddie to show up with a teddy bear or a bouquet but he didn’t. Despite not being the one who ended things, the guilt picked at you like a vulture until your bones were clean. You didn’t mean for him to feel like you were putting your career before him.

Leaving the house was a rare occurrence given that you rarely got out of bed. Taking care of yourself wasn’t a priority. You were either eating too much or too little and the same went for your sleep pattern. Everything was in excess or deficit with no in-between. There were so many tear-soaked tissues on the floor around your bed that it looked like a gathering of white doves surrounding your place of blubbering. It was ironic, really. Doves are often seen as a symbol of tranquility and you felt anything but at peace.

Before then, you thought it was cliché when heartbreak was described as losing a part of yourself but you finally understood. Beneath the layers of blankets, you were splayed out as though your mattress was a sidewalk and you’d just plunged from the top floor of a skyscraper. Miraculously, you were alive but the impact left you broken in every way possible.

There were a few times that you picked up the receiver but you stopped yourself before dialing his number. Consequently, no contact was made for the two months leading up to your departure. In the fall of 1986, you left Hawkins and didn’t look back.

Being each other's first love, you and Eddie shared an irreplaceable bond. He was your reference point when it came to matters of the heart. In a world full of options and roads to take, you could’ve been anything but you wanted to be his again.

It took a while but you got back in the saddle. The mediocre dates outnumbered the satisfactory ones. You had a handful of boyfriends but none of the relationships got serious enough for you to meet their folks. You struggled to fully invest yourself even when they were the perfect gentleman who cared about you. They were nice but they weren’t Eddie.

You knew that you’d be okay someday. It took two years for the ball and chain to rust through entirely. While the ache may resurface from time to time, it has dwindled to a dull throbbing. Whenever the pain begins to swell, you remind yourself of how much you’ve achieved on your own. Hell, brushing off the hurt has gotten you this far.

Seeing Eddie canoodle Karie is driving you to question if you ever healed at all. Perhaps you merely fooled yourself into believing that you moved on. By the looks of it, Eddie is fulfilled being with her. You’re curious about what he remembers. Does he know your birthday or the color of your eyes? Has he forgotten the nickname that he called you so frequently that it made your real name sound unfitting?

With a subtle shake of your head, you concentrate on Scott, determined to divert your thoughts away from Eddie. As Scott continues his story of riding Vespas in Italy, you nod and grin, doing your best to feign interest and play it off as though you have been fully engaged this whole time. It’s difficult to fight the urge to sneak another glance at Eddie.

Despite your best efforts, your eyes betray you. They dart back in his direction. His curls, once a beloved characteristic, look soft and shiny. The chocolate coils cascade around his features like the delicate branches of a willow tree. Your mind conjures images of him carefully tending to them with care.

Eddie looks down at Karie and says something to her. In response, she kisses the hand of his that’s dangling off of her shoulder. Eddie and Karie's interaction, their seemingly effortless interaction, twists your guts like a saturated towel being wrung out until it’s bone dry. You wish she’d rip the look of contentment off of his face.

The overwhelming urge to avoid any potential encounter with Eddie intensifies. You don’t know what you’d say to him. As the pain of seeing Eddie persists, you use Scott as a lifeline to anchor yourself in the present. His animated gestures and stories offer an escape from the thoughts that threaten to consume you. He's going on about how your moms are still good friends and they started a book club together. As Scott mentions their current choice of reading material—a steamy romance novel—you can't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the wiggle of his eyebrows.

After your laughter dies down, Scott continues to ramble. His incessant words enter one ear and exit the other without leaving a trace. He’s like a chattering teeth toy that’s been wound up too tightly. You're acutely aware of Eddie’s proximity and it’s like an invisible weight on your chest. The mere thought of him conjures emotions you've been desperately trying to keep at bay. It's a delicate balance between acknowledging his existence and avoiding the sorrow that accompanies it.

The intro of "Heat of the Moment" fills the air, sending a jolt through your body. The song paints the picture of a time when it was your anthem, the soundtrack to your relationship with Eddie. But now it feels like a cruel twist of fate to hear it playing. As the thumping beat reverberates through the speakers and the lyrics echo around the room, it becomes harder to maintain your composure. You can’t remember the last time you heard it but it surely hadn’t hurt this much. In great need of space to collect yourself, you place your hand on top of Scott’s. The touch halts his self-absorbed rambling.  “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Sensing your distress, he looks at you with concern and his self-centered demeanor fades. “Sure thing,” Scott nods before sparking up a conversation with the trio seated across from him.

You weave around clusters of people until you find yourself in a less populated area. The sound of chatter and laughter recede into the background as you approach a short table adorned with generic-looking tiger decorations that are undoubtedly meant for children’s parties. The three-tier stand has been picked over but there are a few remaining cupcakes that have H’s messily piped in orange frosting on top. Across the backside of the table is a tri-fold presentation board with photos taken by the yearbook staff stapled to it. Yet again, you look at the faces of people who didn’t give your existence much thought. While you look closely at the images, you don’t realize that you’re humming along to the song.

The two asshats conversing with Karie are as uninterested in Eddie as he is in them. Rather than actively engaging in the dialogue, he adopts a passive approach by making occasional sounds that mimic agreement. He’s trying to make this experience as painless as possible.

He’s in attendance against his will but he’d rather be here than to have Karie on his case about her feeling humiliated for attending by her lonesome. Unlike her, Eddie doesn't place a great deal of importance on his reputation or what others think of him. It's one aspect of his character that remains unchanged.

Eddie observes the lively scene unfolding before him. He watches as people mingle and sip generic brand punch from disposable cups. His line of sight sweeps the seating arrangements and he does a double take. It feels like an arrow spears his chest and his heart is the bullseye. “Apple,” He breathes out with his mouth narrowly agape. Apple of my eye.

As Eddie looks you over, he takes note of how your appearance looks effortful and your jewelry pairs perfectly with your outfit. The subtle differences that time has brought make him yearn to acquaint himself with them. The dark circles below your eyes defy the light layer of makeup that’s been applied to conceal them. Your hair, styled in a way that accentuates your features, beckons his fingers to play with it.

He marvels at you, his eyes tracing the contours of your form. Eddie knew that you wouldn’t look the same if he saw you again but your mature beauty is throwing him for a loop nevertheless.

You’re talking to someone. He looks familiar but Eddie isn’t sure who he is. Sam? Brett? Who the hell cares, what’s for certain is that this dude is a hunk. His shirt is immaculate, devoid of any wrinkles. His facial hair is precisely trimmed to create a sharp edge along his jaw. Eddie's hand instinctively glides over his scruff and he regrets not touching it up while getting ready.

Judging by the way you’re engaging with him, it’s plain to see that this guy is your boyfriend or maybe even your husband. But since when are you into the athletic type? Obviously, the man is mindful of the food he eats and has a consistent workout routine.

Eddie looks down at his bicep, which rests behind Karie's head, and a wave of insecurity washes over him. He convinces himself that he is not toned enough to meet your preferences. You used to love the slight pudge of his belly but you probably wouldn’t find his physique attractive anymore. Ever the hypocrite, Eddie grits his teeth when your hand grasps the man’s forearm. Your laugh cuts through the noise and sends a pang through Eddie’s core.

He feels selfish for wanting the meathead to kick you to the curb and leave you so heartbroken that you come crawling back to him. Eddie could save the day and treat you well like he always intended. Is this guy keeping you comfortable and ensuring that your needs are met? Does he spoil you with gifts and shower you with affection?

He hates that he hasn’t seen or made you smile like that in so long. He tried to forget how much he missed the little things. He can’t remember the way your perfume smelled but he reminisces about the way it used to fill him with light. It was invigorating to smell, touch, and taste you. You had a way of flooding Eddie’s senses that was borderline addicting. You were oxygen to him and you breathed him back to life when he felt deflated. Throughout the years, Eddie had been holding his breath as he navigated life without you. Finally, seeing you as beautiful as ever, he feels like he can breathe again.

He wonders how you’ve changed. Above all, he hopes that your infectious laugh, with its distinctive snort that he adored, hasn’t gone away. He’s itching to walk over but Eddie finds himself restrained by Karie. He feels a sense of restlessness from how badly he wants to engage with you.

Karie looks up at him and asks a question but he doesn’t comprehend what she says. Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, that’s true.” He throws in a light chuckle and that sells it. She kisses the top of his hand and he feigns a grin at her affectionate gesture. The sensation of her lips pursed against his hand makes his skin crawl more than it usually does. Eddie imagines that they’re your lips instead. He knows that her gesture is for show. She’s not remotely this lovey-dovey behind closed doors. Karie is portraying the image of a stable relationship for people who could give a shit about her love life.

Eddie believes that you left Hawkins because you didn’t have faith in his third try at graduating. You left because he wasn’t good enough of a reason to stay. The argument you had flipped on the defense mechanism switch in his brain. It was a means of self-preservation and he protected himself in the only way he knew how. While this impulsive act may have prevented you from initiating the breakup somewhere along the line, it didn't diminish the pain of losing you.

When he got back to his trailer shortly after the fight, Eddie tore his bedroom apart to frantically collect any item that had anything to do with you. Within the jumbled mess of hair accessories and mismatching socks were the tangible reminders of your shared attachment—a skull ring you had given him on his previous birthday, folded notes, and Polaroids that were once lovingly taped to his mirror.

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to throw any of it away because it all meant so much to him. He simply couldn't bear to have any reminders of you lingering around. The keepsakes were dumped into a wilted shoebox and stuffed in the far back corner of the hallway closet. By stashing it away, Eddie was shielding himself from the sharp sting of abandonment that he feared would accompany their presence. He hoped that by removing the mementos, he could somehow free himself from the emotional burden that they carried.

Eddie may not have fit the mold of a traditional Prince Charming, but he regarded you as his princess in the imperfect fairytale that you lived in. Truthfully, he was flawed and so was the relationship. Some arguments started over trivial matters such as Eddie chewing with his mouth open after you asked him to stop countless times. There were instances that you reminded him politely but sometimes you were less than patient.

That’s one of your flaws that drove Eddie up the wall. It seemed that no matter what he did, there was a sense of dissatisfaction or criticism. Be that as it may, he accepted that it was part of the exchange. You hated shit that he did and he felt the same way toward your bad habits. No romance is without its trials and tribulations. The various points of conflict proved that love is not smooth sailing at all times. It requires effort, compromise, and understanding from both parties.

Occasionally, you would go to sleep mad at each other. When that was the case, Eddie insisted on saying “I love you” and exchanging a goodnight kiss. It didn’t matter if it was brief, on the cheek, or over the phone. He made certain that you never went to bed without a manifestation of his devotion. These acts of reassurance served as a testament to Eddie's refusal to let negative emotions overshadow the deep affection he held for you. Eddie ensured that you didn't spend the night in your respective bedrooms drowning in tears or overthinking every word that had been said in the heat of the moment. The first and only time he broke that commitment was the day he discovered the acceptance letter.

Despite not handling the situation well, Eddie wasn’t usually immature. He always listened intently when you spoke to him. He nodded and maintained eye contact to make certain that you knew he heard and supported you. One thing Eddie had to learn how to do was to stop giving unsolicited advice. It was a habit that stemmed from his discomfort with unresolved problems. It was challenging for him to refrain from trying to find solutions when handling a situation that seemed potentially fixable. However, Eddie gained awareness of his shortcoming when he realized that you stopped confiding in him about the girls who teased you in PE.

It was a love of such great intensity that many adults struggle to comprehend, let alone handle it if they are fortunate enough to find it.

After the season transitioned from crisp to bitter, Eddie went looking for a new way to keep himself warm. You were the only partner he’d had and he would’ve been content rolling around with you for the rest of his days. But you gave up on him, so he did whatever he had to in order to keep the loneliness away. To the best of his ability, Eddie avoided the memory of you by sidetracking himself with pretty faces. Engulfed in a string of one-night stands, he found himself desperately chasing the elusive feeling he experienced with you.

No rebound was going to help Eddie get over you. He realized that if he was going to live without you, he’d be miserable at best. Engaging in casual encounters did little to alleviate the emptiness within him. Instead, it merely provided a temporary surge of dopamine. This fleeting pleasure offered a brief distraction until he moved on to the next woman and endured yet another night without you.

Your lips left a watermark that couldn’t be washed away with time. Your touch was delicate as if you were scared he would shatter in your palms; but it wasn’t your touch that could break him, it was the loss of it. Eddie has been nothing short of broken since. You hold the key to the vulnerable part of his being. Behind a heart-shaped padlock lies his compassionate, goofy, and gentle side. A side that has remained locked away since you left.

Fortunately, Eddie earned his diploma on his third try after shedding blood, sweat, and tears. Regardless of his initial determination to leave Hawkins following graduation, Eddie didn’t take the leap. He realized that if he left, you would have no way of finding him. Despite the painful way things ended between you, he made a sacrifice, forfeiting the opportunity for a brighter future in the hopes that you might reappear in his life someday.

Sleeping around became tiresome so he reluctantly agreed to go on a blind date with Karie. It would be a stretch to say that he actively chose to continue seeing her. Following their dinner together, Karie became an unabating presence in his life, akin to a persistent house fly buzzing in his ear. She frequently called him, making her pursuit of him abundantly clear. Eddie found himself lacking the motivation to address and shut down her behavior, indifferent to the situation that unfolded.

At first, he was confused by her persistence because what would someone like her want to do with someone like him? She had run through all of the eligible bachelors in Hawkins, only to drive them away with her insufferable behavior, leaving Eddie as her last option. They’ve been on and off for so long that it’s merely routine at this point. He has no desire to try his luck dating other women. No matter how unhappy she makes him, it’s better than being alone. With Karie, the good times are okay at best. She has a tendency to instigate senseless arguments, seemingly for the sheer thrill of drama.

On top of that, the sex isn’t mind-blowing by any means, which hardly makes it worth it. For Eddie, it’s emotionless and strictly physical relief. He couldn’t get invested if he tried because of how controlling she is, inside and outside of the bedroom. When they’re in the car together he doesn’t get to tune the radio to the station that he likes. She dictates his plans and makes sure every moment of his free time is spent with her.

Eddie chose mistreatment over being lonely and longing for the girl he pushed away. Karie is a welcome distraction, albeit a toxic one, from what he really wants. Even if he could only be your pen pal or someone you get coffee with while you visit on occasion, he’d take the chance in a heartbeat. He’s bruised from years worth of kicking himself for letting you go.

Part of Eddie knew that you were unlikely to return to Hawkins, but he couldn't help but hold onto a glimmer of hope. Each year, he would check the phone book and search for any sign of you. It was wishful thinking but he couldn’t let go. On occasion, Eddie asked around town in the hopes of gathering any tidbits concerning your whereabouts or how you were doing. His inquiries yielded no substantial leads or insights that could provide a glimpse into your life.

Eddie wonders how much time passed before you moved on. He can't help but hope that you touched yourself to the thought of him, that you cried into your pillow pretending it was his chest instead. He hopes that hearing your song kept the memories from eroding.

The absence of your light cast a shadow over Eddie's days, leaving him immersed in a perpetual state of darkness. He found himself trapped in a world of thunder and gray skies, where the vibrant colors of life had faded to muted shades. At night, as he lay in bed, Eddie's thoughts would inevitably drift back to the way it felt to hold you in his arms.

It shouldn’t have been goodbye, it certainly didn’t have to be. The discovery of the letter hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. It was a farewell, one that would unfold gradually. He was confronted with the painful truth that people inevitably walk out of his life. It was an inevitable pattern, one he had encountered time and again. Friends had drifted away, relationships had crumbled, and now it seemed you that you too, were going to outgrow him.

As the years went by, Eddie thanked himself for holding onto the shoebox of keepsakes; it was all that he had left to cherish. You were god knows where doing god knows what. The only place Eddie could find you was in his dreams and in that box. The selfishness didn’t falter as the regret heightened. He crossed his fingers for your plans to go up in flames, for you to flunk your classes so that you would have no choice but to move back home. If by chance you did return, he intended to do everything in his power to show you how sorry he was.

Eddie zoned out while a cyclone of feelings tore up his ability to stay present with Karie under his arm. He’s been so caught up in his head that he’s practically vibrating. As if the universe has decided to spare him, “Heat Of The Moment” begins to blare from the speakers. Eddie’s eyes snap to your table but you’re nowhere to be seen. His panicked eyes scan the floor for the pair of legs that never failed to make him drool.

As if luck is on his side tonight, Karie’s voice cuts through the noise. “I need to use the ladies' room.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie shrugs and watches Karie walk toward the restrooms. He spots you hurrying past a group of people. In this charged atmosphere, surrounded by the whispers of what could have been, Eddie has to make a decision. Is he going to take the leap and risk further heartache or let the moment slip away, forever wondering what might have been? Apparently, Eddie’s feet have a mind of their own because he’s going after you at a moment’s notice.

His scuffed sneakers squeak against the polished floor as he weaves with determination coursing through his veins. Eddie mutters, “Excuse me,” when he bumps into someone but he doesn’t stop moving until he finds you checking out the snack table display. As he steps closer, he gets déjà vu from being drawn to you the same way he was the first time he noticed you.

On a gloomy Friday in September during sophomore year, Eddie was in U.S. history when he was hit with inspiration. Ideas for a campaign flickered in his mind and he needed to capture them before they slipped away. While he scribbled, Eddie momentarily tuned out the ongoing presentation that was being delivered by his classmate. He was fully immersed in the realm of his imagination as he jotted down strategies and visual concepts.

Not long after his pencil hit the paper, Eddie felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Mr. Gatlin standing beside him with disapproval stamped on his face. Eddie tried to explain that he was taking notes for his own project, hoping to avoid any consequences. Mr. Gatlin was unconvinced and wrote him a detention slip.

In the designated classroom for the disciplinary measure were three other students who, like him, were slouched at their desks. Eddie kept himself busy by filling out the form that he needed to submit to start a new club. The blank space on the paper seemed to mock him, taunting his inability to come up with a clever club name. As Eddie's thoughts swirled around, he was abruptly brought back to reality by the sound of your voice softly greeting the teacher. With a lifted gaze, Eddie watched how you interacted with her, offering a respectful salutation instead of presenting a dismissive attitude like the average disgruntled student would.

His eyes traced the contours of your profile while you settled into a desk near the door. He couldn’t recall seeing you around, you seemed detached from any particular social clique. Eddie could tell that you didn't dress to conform or uphold a particular image. There was a refreshing authenticity about you. It was clear to him that you weren't shy. Rather, you preferred to avoid unnecessary attention.

It was as if a dormant part of him had suddenly awakened and the self-consciousness gnawed at him. His hair, which he had been growing out, was at an awkward length as it fell just above his earlobes. He frowned at his reflection in the nearby window, noticing the acne that bespeckled his complexion. He examined his shirt for any visible signs of wear and tear. The insecurities crept in, making him question whether his appearance was enough to catch your eye.

Eddie spent the entire hour utterly captivated by how cute you were. As the teacher announced dismissal and you gathered your belongings, his heart sank. He had the chance to make a move but his nerves got the best of him and he was rooted to his seat. The desire to go after you to introduce himself tugged at him. Eddie was stuck on all the reasons why he shouldn't. What if you didn't want to be approached? What if you had somewhere to be or you weren't interested in getting to know someone new? He berated himself for letting his insecurities hold him back.

That following Monday, Eddie was tardy to fifth-period study hall and when he lifted his eyes from his shuffling feet, his heart leaped in his chest. There you were in the far back corner of the classroom. As it turns out, you’d been in his class the entire semester. The teacher asked Eddie to take a seat. He swore under his breath and smoothed down his frizzy hair while he sauntered over to the available desk beside yours.

Eddie settled and a creak resonated through the otherwise silent classroom. You remained in your own world, engrossed in the act of doodling. He respected the reminder from the teacher to maintain silence, understanding that this was not the opportune time to introduce himself.

He stole glances at your notebook, intrigued by the abstract shapes and lines that decorated the page. They held a certain allure, a reflection of the intricacies of your mind. It was as though he was stepping into your dimension, one where vulnerability and creativity intertwined. Eddie felt a connection with you. He understood that sometimes, amidst the pressures and expectations of daily life, it was important to allow yourself to breathe and simply be. At the end of class, Eddie once again watched you gather your things and leave. Instead of being hard on himself for letting you go once more, he became eager.

The next morning, Eddie got out of bed early to spend more time on his appearance. He aimed to look and smell his best because he was finally going to put himself out there. Bouncing through his day with a spring in his step, Eddie made his way to the classroom. As he settled in the desk next to you, he intentionally made more noise than necessary. He rummaged through his backpack and shuffled the contents but you didn’t pay him any mind.

As Eddie tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, the sound echoed through the classroom, drawing disapproving glances from your classmates. With his slightly chewed-up number two pencil, Eddie wrote a message on the first line. He held his breath as he slid the sheet onto your Trapper Keeper. For a few heart-pounding seconds, everything else seemed to fade into the background. He had yet to exhale, watching as you picked up the note and read Eddie’s messy penmanship.

The furrow in your brow softened. In that instant, the ice that surrounded you began to melt. The brief moment of eye contact felt electrically charged. He swam in the hue of your irises as he looked past your initially withdrawn disposition. When your toothy smile took shape, it tugged on his heart. To him, you were more than just a pretty girl; you welcomed him with open arms, free of repulsion or fear.

The minutes ticked away while the paper was passed between you like a messenger. It was a blank canvas transformed into a heavily graffitied wall. High school had been nothing short of cruel to him so far, so he needed a friend. When the bell rang, Eddie folded the paper and tucked it away into his backpack where it would be safe. From thereon out, a mute dance evolved between the two of you on a daily basis. The restrictions of the no-talking rule seemed inconsequential as you found other ways to communicate, transcending the need for talking.

In times of solitude and introspection, Eddie has sought solace in those pages. Like a worn-out book, he knows them by heart, having reread them countless times. Whenever he opens that shoebox and unfolds those precious notes, he’s transported back to the time when his life was in technicolor. They became more than ink on a page. Each word, each scribble, carried the significance of your history.

It’s quieter by the snack table. The closer Eddie gets to you, the wetter his shirt feels. His palms begin to tremble as the adrenaline in his system kicks up. The sensation feels eerily similar to the pre-show jitters he used to get back in the day when he and his bandmates would take the stage at The Hideout. Eddie takes another step and now he can hear that you're quietly singing along to the song. He can’t stop himself from singing with you.

As his familiar voice reaches your ears, a mix of emotions well up within you, causing a lump to form in your throat. With a quick intake of breath, you turn around and put on a mask of surprise as if you hadn't been staring at him with his girlfriend. “Eddie!”

“Hey, you.” He purrs, casually holding his arms open. He wishes he’d taken a second to rehearse what he was going to open with but there’s no going back now.

At first, you’re rigid when he goes in for a hug. But once his hands find your waist, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. Eddie's embrace tightens, lifting you slightly off the ground. Being lifted onto your tippy toes ignites a playful giggle and you bury your face in his silky curls. His chuckle rattles against your chest, the sound creating a soothing vibration that rolls deep within you. You nuzzle up to him as you melt. Being wrapped in each other's arms feels like a balm for the wounds of the past.

Eddie is a little too high to be on his best behavior. Your natural scent evokes a sense of nostalgia and comfort. The fragrance of your perfume adds a layer to the intoxicating mix, its fresh and mature notes entice him. Your bodies feel different pressed together but just like puzzle pieces, they only fit with their corresponding piece. Being chest to chest, your hearts dare to relink.

He guides your feet back to the floor and loosens his grip, splaying his palms flat on the small of your back. When your eyes meet, you feel like you’re anywhere but in the musty gym. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers down to your lips and you can’t help but do the same.

“Edward,” Karie says loudly, her voice laced with possessiveness as if she’s his mother.

Promptly pulled out of his lustful trance, Eddie releases you and steps back. A rough clearing of his throat breaks the stillness. He turns to face Karie and consciously composes himself by donning an innocent expression, aiming to hide the intensity of what just transpired. “Yeah, babe?” The pet name tastes sour as it rolls off of his tongue.

Karie loops her left arm around his right one and tugs him close. “Who’s this?” She doesn’t blink once while she looks you over from head to toe.

You nearly scoff because you refuse to believe that she doesn’t remember you. The audacity to pretend that she doesn’t know you were his girlfriend for four years. You can see right through her poised and cordial exterior. She’s intimidated because she knows how much you meant to him, and you’re not wrong about that. One day, Karie was being nosey and snooped around Eddie’s trailer while he was outside tinkering under the hood of her car. The desire to uncover any hidden secrets of his past compelled her to dig deeper, disregarding any boundaries of privacy. She came across the stash underneath his bed, nearly camouflaged by dirty clothes and junk food wrappers. The shoebox, once a privately kept capsule of young love, laid open before Karie. She knew exactly what she’d found.

Before Eddie can give a proper introduction, you outstretch your hand to her and do it yourself to see how long she’ll play dumb. You refuse to let Karie's facade deceive you, remaining steadfast in that she’s well aware of the impact you’ve had on his life.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and stares down at the floor while Karie repeats your name as if it tastes familiar but she can’t quite place it. She’s drawing out her performance but Eddie hasn’t picked up on it in the slightest. He isn’t any good at detecting subtlety. When you were together, he had to be told how you were feeling because he’s “not a mind reader.” Poor thing, he truly thinks that Karie has no idea who you are.

Her burgundy-painted lips curl inauthentically, revealing her somewhat crooked teeth. “Oh! We had algebra together, right?”

You let out a sound that resembles amusement, though the irritability with her bitchiness is evident. “No. American Literature, actually.”

She considers arguing that you’re the one who’s misremembering but Eddie pipes up before she has the chance. “Would either of you ladies like some punch?”

Karie says “No,” without taking her eyes off of you.

From the heat of her stare, the moisture in your mouth has evaporated. You meet Eddie’s gaze and grin warmly. “Sure, I could go for some.”

He leans in and winks, “Want me to spike it?”

You giggle and nod in reply. Eddie shoots you with finger guns and then walks away to the nearby table that houses the beverages. In his absence, it becomes apparent how much he was buffering the tension. It skyrockets and Karie’s glare is unwavering. Regardless of how uncomfortable she’s making you, you offer her pleasantness to glower at. “Well, it looks like you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snarls while folding her arms across her chest.

Thankfully, Eddie returns with the two cups of fruit punch and he hands them both to you. You hold them steadily as Eddie pulls a small flask from his sneaker. With practiced precision, Eddie adds a dash of the mystery liquor to one of the cups, while the other receives a more generous pour of two shots' worth. Oblivious to Karie's scoff and eye roll, Eddie remains focused on his task, unaware of the disapproval emanating from her.

Eddie takes the stronger cup and taps the lip of it against your own. “Cheers,” He grins before chugging the entirety of the concoction.

You take a small sip and watch as the flushed sunset crawls across Eddie’s neck. As you go to take another sip, Eddie gently lifts the bottom of your cup to encourage you to swig instead. Your eyebrows lift in surprise but you do what he wishes while he smiles goofily at you.

Now that you’ve swallowed enough to really taste it, you can tell that his palette has evolved. The bitter scald sends a shiver down your spine and you squeeze your eyes closed. A cough bubbles from your throat, bringing the earthy pine flavor back up with it. Eddie pats your back through your coughing fit as if it’ll help but he knows it won’t. It’s simply an excuse to touch you.

“Thanks,” You clear your throat. “That’s some strong stuff, pretty different from your Blue Ribbon days.” Back then, Eddie swore that Pabst’s Blue Ribbon Beer was the nectar of the gods and he vowed to drink it to his grave. Eyeballing the remainder of the tainted punch in your cup, you try to think about anything other than how awful the aftertaste is.

 “Y’know, that’s forty-five dollar gin you’re choking on.” 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Woah, big spender over here.” Without thinking, you poke at his belly, sharing a laugh while the liquor warms both of you at your cores.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Karie is seething beneath her carefully curated surface. She taps her foot and looks around the room with her arms still crossed. Though she has been listening to your conversation, Karie has chosen not to participate. She perceives herself as being above Eddie's antics. But there's an underlying fear that lingers; she recognizes the depth of the bond that you have with him and she‘s threatened by it.

You’re getting a rise out of her by entertaining his spontaneity and it’s rather satisfying. The steam blowing out of her ears is just below Eddie’s emotional awareness radar. When your eyes meet hers, a nonverbal conversation ensues.

What the fuck is your problem, lady?

I don’t like you and he’s mine, so don’t even think about it.

Meanwhile, Eddie is bobbing his head to the music while the combination of substances takes him up into the clouds. Your focus is brought back to him when he resumes the conversation. “What about you? What’ve you been wetting your whistle with?” He continues to ignore Karie and neglects to include her. “Are you more of a chardonnay or champagne girl?” Eddie’s brows scrunch together. “Wait, what’s the difference?”

You giggle at his genuine puzzlement and it makes his breath quake. There’s something about the way you beam so dazzlingly while he’s making a fool of himself. Except, he saw you smile similarly at your boyfriend. Eddie can feel his temper ignite at the thought alone but that’s not the only source of heat. He’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of your radiance. Yet, he’s aware of the potential burn and consequences that may arise from getting too close.

Karie is tired of watching the spotlight be on you. She nudges Eddie and he grudgingly acknowledges her. “I’m going to go catch up with the Reynen twins.” At last, Karie has given up on doing her best to intimidate you.

“Tell them I say ‘hi,’ I guess.” Eddie’s mouth forms a straight line and he shoves his hands into his front pockets. When he looks back at you, joy returns to his face. Partially due to the buzz overtaking his nerves and because the wicked witch is gone. A silence hangs in the air while he thinks, God, she looks fucking incredible, but he forgets to say anything.

Your eyes land on the familiar necklace peeking out from beneath Eddie's dress shirt. The guitar pick dangles there, a symbol of his lifelong enthusiasm for music. “I’m glad to see you still play.”

Eddie sucks his teeth and flips the guitar pick between his fingers. “Uh- yeah, not so much anymore.”

“What, why not? You used to play every day.”

“I know.” Eddie murmurs, "Just been busy, y'know?" He’s making a feeble attempt to cloak the depth of his emotions. The timeline he recalls was the turning point when his love for playing began to wane.

Not only did Eddie lose his first love but you were his muse as well. After the split, music didn’t feel or sound the same. Sure, he listened to his favorite albums but to this day, playing feels meaningless. He tries picking up his Warlock on occasion but he never gets past strumming a chord before he gets too heavy-hearted and puts it back in its case.

Losing you immediately caused a rift between him and the other members of Corroded Coffin. Their disbandment was swift due to the altered dynamic. There was no passion and he had completely given up. As cold as it was for his bandmates to reciprocate his hostility, he did nothing to preserve his tight-knit friendships with them. Eddie had already lost the most important thing in the world to him and losing his buddies wasn’t going to hurt more than that.

“That’s a shame, you were so talented.” You shift your weight between the balls of your feet with a blend of shock and disappointment on your face. Feeling that this is probably the moment you should walk away, you muster the courage to give parting words. "It's been fun catching up, but I should get going." Your voice carries a tinge of sadness.

“Wait! I was thinking, uh- do you wanna go to The Hideout?” He licks his lips. “Like old times?” Eddie’s chocolate saucers search your eyes while twists the ring below his middle knuckle. “I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to.” Eddie is terrified that you’re about to slip through his fingers because this is his chance; this is what he’s been waiting for.

You bite the inside of your cheek at his pleading expression. “Are you sure? What’ll the missus think of that?”

Eddie dismisses your concern by blowing a raspberry with his tingling lips. “Pfft, I’m a grown-ass man. I can do whatever I want.”

“I don’t know,” Your mouth goes dry again at the thought of revisiting the watering hole that holds innumerable memories. It becomes impossibly difficult to deny him as his eyes reflect the light.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink,” He pouts.

You close your eyes and mull it over for a moment. The sound of Eddie anxiously tapping his knuckles together is enough to convince you. “Okay, fine.”

”That’s what I'm talking about!” he pumps his fists but then he pauses. “What about your beau?” Eddie motions to Scott who is still conversing at the table that you were previously sitting at. Buff blondie seems to have forgotten about your return.

You look between Scott and Eddie. “I’m here by myself.”

As much as he tries, Eddie fails to fight the cheek-aching smile that forms. His heart is thrumming so hard that he wouldn’t be able to stop it from bursting through his ribs if it went flying. “My mistake.” Eddie pulls his car keys from his back pocket and spins them around his index finger. “Wanna ride with me?”

Your mouth opens but instead of words, a squeak of agreement is all that comes out. You turn to walk toward the exit and without missing a beat, Eddie instinctively moves to your side, matching your stride as you make your way toward the exit. His smile is so deeply engraved on his face that he’s going to need to ice his cheeks later.

On your way out of The Hideout, Eddie holds the heavy metal door open for you. The clouds had opened up while you were inside and they’ve left the air dense with the scent of fresh rain. It mingles with the aroma of tobacco smoke drifting from the bar's door. In the street, puddles form small mirrors that reflect the pearlescent moon above.

You delved into conversation with ease and traded stories of the lives you’ve led since your last encounter. Tales of success and misfortune spilled forth, weaving your individual journeys into a tapestry of shared experiences. The interaction was a dance of subtlety, an unspoken agreement to move at a pace dictated by each other’s ever-growing willingness to explore. A brush of fingertips here, a gentle touch on the arm there—small gestures laden with hope.

Cars roll through flooded potholes and splash the curb with a wave of pavement fragments. The mist hanging in the air makes the streetlamps and neon signs glow. Eddie leans against the dampened brick and you echo his position, standing shoulder to shoulder. You frown when Eddie pulls a stray cigarette out of his breast pocket and balances it between his lips. “I kinda hoped you’d have quit.”

“I did for the most part.” He mumbles. As Eddie lights his cigarette, a wisp of smoke swirls lazily from the tip, blending with the haze of the earlier downpour. After taking a long drag and smoothly releasing, he looks at you. “I really only smoke when I’ve got a lot on my mind.” On the come down from his weed high, he’s combining nicotine and alcohol to combat the intense feelings of attraction stirring within him. It’s occurring to him that this night is coming to an end.

Eddie looks like he’s battling to stay in the present while actively seeping away. For a moment, you listen to the water drizzling off of the tattered awning and hitting the ground. Music escapes through the door as patrons go in and out of the bar. “So… Karie West, huh? How long have you two-”

“Don’t do that.” Eddie bites off the end of your sentence.

You turn to face him fully. “Don’t do what?”

Eddie huffs and flicks his cigarette. “Don’t bring her up. She’s the last thing I wanna talk about.”

“Okay,” You sigh barely above a whisper and glance away. The sting in your chest shoots to your fingertips at his sharp tone, not unlike the one he used that fateful day.

Eddie takes a shorter drag but holds it this time. He allows it to char the inside of his lungs before exhaling the plume of smoke. The events of the evening are rippling through his mind, the conversations and laughter seamlessly melding with the good memories he’s held onto. “I was gonna propose to you.” He states very matter-of-factly as if that isn’t a huge bomb to drop on you. 

“Nu-uh.” You blink rapidly in utter disbelief.

“Yeah huh. I carried the ring box on me for like three weeks.” At this point, he can’t tell what’s what. Either his emotions are so strong that he can’t feel his toes or the booze, nicotine, and traces of weed are causing him to short-circuit. “But then I found out about-” Eddie stops himself, unwilling to relive it out loud. He flicks his cigarette and brings it back to his mouth.

“Wow,” There’s that stabbing sensation in your chest that you know all to well. Tears flood your vision because what could’ve been seems better than the life you wound up living without him. Due to the way you’re dodging his eye contact, he fails to see how glassy your eyes have become. You sniffle, your nose reacting to the drop in temperature and your emotions running high. The weight of disappointment settles heavily as you grapple with his statement. “Did you give it to her instead?”

Eddie tosses his cigarette to the pavement and stomps it out. “Fuck no,” His laughter is accompanied by a shake of his head as he entertains the absurdity of the notion. The very idea of such a fate makes his stomach churn; the mere thought could induce physical sickness. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then why are you with her?” You wish you hadn’t blurted it out, but if he’s so miserable then why does he stick around? Considering what you went through, you know damn well that Eddie isn’t afraid to leave when something no longer serves him.

He adjusts his back against the wall which causes the change in his wallet to jingle. “It’s complicated.”

Your persistence to know the truth causes the tears to spill over your waterline and drag streaks of mascara down your face. “Do you love her? Is that why?” 

Looking into your eyes right now brings him right back to that day and he’s watching you shatter all over again. “Absolutely not.” The insecurity in your tone is obvious enough that Eddie picks up on it. He loses his train of thought in knowing that there must be a reason behind you asking that particular question. Eddie looks down before meeting your gaze again.

“D-Did you love me?” You nibble your bottom lip and watch the way his expression softens. At the time, it felt like he did but with all of the overthinking you’ve done, your view of the past has been distorted.

He can’t tell if he’s breathing right now, you look so beautiful with the streetlight reflections turning your tears into gems. “Did I love you?” Eddie chokes out, “Of course I did. I never stopped.”

Your lips part a sliver as your brain begs for more oxygen to cope. To soothe yourself, you begin picking at your cuticles but you can hardly feel the pinch.

“You were everything to me.” As Eddie steps closer, his scent overtakes you. His hand trembles as he swipes at your dampened cheeks. “I couldn't stop thinking about you,” he whispers, “Every day, every night, you were constantly on my mind.”

You’re frozen in place, fidgeting ceased as you stare back. You gulp at the way his hair flies behind him in the brisk twilight gust. Eddie takes your hands and the heat of his warms your own. A sense of intimacy flows through you, interlacing the past and present. “I thought about you too.” You look down at your joined hands, watching his fingers rekindle their connection with yours after so many years apart. 

You trace the lines of his palms with your fingertips. It's as if your hands remember each other, relearning the contours and textures that were once so familiar. Eddie's eyes remain fixed on you, his gaze dripping with tenderness and longing. He guides your hands to rest on his collarbones and you can feel the strength of his body through his shirt. He gently caresses your ribs and slides his hands down to your waist. You respond eagerly by stepping closer and your navels touch.

His bated breaths mirror yours, both of you caught up in how it’s as if the universe has conspired to bring you back together. Eddie can’t bear the distance much longer. He rests his forehead against yours and it creates a bridge between your souls. You share the air, recycling each other’s breaths. The hovering of his lips causes your heart to pound against your ribs. But as his lips draw closer, you find yourself compelled to stop him. “Wait.”

Eddie pulls back ever so slightly to provide space for your voice to be heard. He can tell exactly what you’re thinking. “I don’t want her, I want you.”

You look away, feeling conflicted. Eddie guides your chin back to his and he strokes your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Meanwhile, his other hand applies comforting pressure to your hip. He studies your face while you lean into his touch. “I need you, Apple. I don’t wanna lose you again.”

His mind begins to race when he’s met with nothing in response, fearing that exposing his heart to you isn’t enough. After his words have soaked in, Eddie notices the shift in your expression, and relief rids him of the fear of being rejected.

“You won’t,” You hum and breathe as deeply as you can.

Both of your eyes fall closed and your lips brush with hesitance. It’s you who caves first; your lips interlock, pillowy soft, and sweet with a boozy burn. The kiss breaks. Both of your chests heave and your eyes remain closed. The briefness has you weak in the knees but your hold on his shoulder has tightened to keep you upright. Eddie tugs you impossibly closer and kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to. He has to make this count.

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat and his nose presses into the plush of your cheek as he deepens the kiss. It’s both a declaration and an apology, conveying everything that should’ve been said a long time ago. Your movements are slow, intentional, and the definition of pure bliss. There’s no rush or urgency, just the desire to savor each other. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck and your fingers gently entangle themselves where they belong. The nine-year gap between the last kiss and this one evaporates.

When you pull away to catch your breaths, aching smiles overtake your features. On the day of the fight, you saw nothing but indignation in his eyes. And now, all that you see is the promise of forever.

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

tags: @tlclick73 @nj01

[tmnt-tychou]

All Hallows Eve

Meant to be Bayverse, but you could probably imagine its any of them.

Female Reader x All Four Turtles (Slightly Mikey x Reader)

All Hallows Eve

She was dressed as an angel, standing on a street corner looking lost. The white feathered wings with matching boots seemed to glow with a light all their own in the dark, tin-foil halo glittering above her head. She caught Michelangelo's attention with her costume, but he had no plan to approach her at first.

Halloween was the one day a year where he and his brothers could walk the streets in the open without people screaming for their lives. But it still came with its own caveats. They only went out at night and stayed away from any bright lights that could give people a clear look at their forms. And they could never stay in one place for too long. People would compliment their “costumes” in passing, but if they lingered, people would realize they were too big, too real to be costumes.

So even though they were out among the humans, they continued to live in the shadows like ninja, but enjoying the fanfare of a New York Halloween. It was the closest any of them could get to feeling like part of society and Michelangelo milked it for all he could. He kept moving through the neighborhood block parties, enjoying the costumes and partaking of the street food.

That was when Michelangelo saw her. She seemed to be looking for something, or she was lost. But he wasn't sure if he should approach. Not until she looked his way; looked right at him. Her eyes were big, haunting. And they drew him in like she needed him. He found himself walking out of the crowd toward her.

“Hey there, Angel,” he said, referring to her costume. “You okay?” He knew he was big, even for someone pretending to be in a costume. He tried to hunch, make himself smaller. Non-threatening to a woman being approached by a stranger.

She didn't seem to be bothered by his looks or his size. She almost seemed relieved someone had asked about her. “I...I think I'm a bit lost. I was trying to get to a party, but I don't know the city very well and...” she looked at her empty hands, “I've misplaced my phone so I don't have the address.”

“Well that's no good,” Michelangelo replied. “Can I help you find it? Do you remember the address?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I only moved to the city a few weeks ago. I don't know where anything is. I met some people who invited me to this party.” She paused for a moment, as if trying to stop herself from getting emotional. “I just wanted to make some friends here.”

Michelangelo knew better, but he spoke anyway. “I'll be your friend. My name's Mike. My brothers and I are just out enjoying the vibe. Do you want to hang with us for a bit? Then I can make sure you get home when you're ready. Uh...that is if you're okay kicking it with some strangers for a while.”

She smiled, grateful. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Are your brothers giant turtles, too?”

He laughed. “Yeah, we all decided to wear the same thing. Like a group costume.”

He didn't notice she mentioned nothing about costumes.

***********

“What I'm saying is the whole shtick of The Addams Family is that they're weirdos,” Donatello said as he chewed on a caramel apple slice. “They're different than anybody else. But when you put her in a boarding school where everyone is weirdos—supernatural creatures—you're throwing the whole gimmick of the franchise out the window. The story would have worked better if the school was full of normal people. And she would have been the only one able to solve the murder mystery because only she would have suspected a supernatural killer.”

Raphael picked up his forth taco of the night. For a mutant his size, they were hardly a mouthful. But damn, they were so good. “I dunno about any of that, Don. But if you didn't like 'Wednesday', you don't have to keep watching it.”

“Yo, broooos!” Michelangelo called from below. “Come meet our new friend.”

The three other turtles looked down from where they sat on various levels of a metal fire escape. Each had been enjoying the food they collected from the street party, but had ultimately decided to eat in private and watch the people from the alley where they hid.

Leonardo, who was perched just a little higher than Raphael, leaned down so his face was more to his level. “Does Mike have a human with him?”

Raphael sighed. “Looks like. He's always been a sucker for a pretty face. Especially one that will say two words to him. Any two words. Even if it's 'fuck off.'”

Leonardo smirked and then gripped the railing. “Well, let's go meet Mike's new friend and hopefully that will be that.” But he wasn't thinking. He just hopped over the rail and landed two stories down like it was nothing.

Even Michelangelo was silently motioning for him to cut it on the ninja stuff as the two remaining brothers climbed down like normal people.

“So these are my brothers: Don, Raph, and Leo,” Michelangelo introduced. “And this beautiful angel is uh...” He looked helplessly to the human woman.

“Angel works,” she smiled back. “Hi.”

They all smiled back at her, a little awkward and a little clueless on what to do with her.

“Angel got lost trying to get to a party,” Michelangelo continued. “She's new in town and doesn't know the city too well. I thought we could hang out with her for a while and then make sure she gets home safe. What do you guys think?”

The brothers looked at each other and wordlessly agreed. How could they turn down anyone needing a safe chaperon for the night?

“You hungry, Angel?” Raphael asked.

“I could eat.” Her shrug made her cute little wings flap slightly and all four turtles went a little soft for her. She was a woman their age and she looked at them without fear. Like they were her peers. Like they were normal. How could they not go a little soft for that?

As the bottomless pits they were, the turtles didn't mind buying more food for themselves as well. They were happy to purchase anything Angel wanted while they were at it. At first, they wanted to make it quick. They knew lingering out among the humans for too long would give them away. But this time, something amazing happened.

Angel happened. All it took was one person to be with them. To talk with them like they were normal people and that strange bridge between human and mutant was built. With Angel near them, no matter how much their size crept into the uncanny valley for the masses, they were normal. Other people partying on the street didn't stare at them and quickly walk away anymore. A few people even stopped to compliment them on their costumes or even ask how they were made.

Raphael usually answered with random comments like “animatronics and rubber suits” or “it's CGI” and people would walk off confused. But not scared, and that was the important part.

As Leonardo ordered a basket of fries at a food truck to share with their new friend, he heard her talking to Donatello.

“Right?” she was saying. “This boarding school wasn't even really Addams Family core either. It was like...slightly spookier Hogwarts. Slightly. Fucking Harry Potter. Now everything has to be at a school.”

“I see you both have some strong feelings about a TV show,” Leonardo joked as he approached them. He offered Angel the warm fries in his hand. He thought she would take the whole basket, it was mostly meant for her. But she only took a few.

“For the most part, I was pretty on board with the whole show,” she continued. “But when Wednesday was stabbed, that was...jarring. Usually the family is portrayed as either liking pain, or they are somewhat impervious to injury. Maybe a bit of both. You never really know for sure. There's almost an immortal feel to them. There's just too many stories today that should have been original projects, but they keep being tacked onto existing franchises, but they don't have any respect for the lore.”

“Exactly!” Donatello agreed. He also grabbed a few fries and put them in his mouth. “The show and the story weren't bad per se, but it's not really an Addams Family story, so it wasn't as satisfying for fans as it could have been with a few tweaks.”

“God, are you still dragging that show?” Michelangelo sighed. “Angel, come dance with me. Let's enjoy this party while we can.”

He grabbed her hand, so small and delicate in his. She allowed him to lead her out into the thick of the crowd. The Monster Mash was playing over the speakers, a DJ at the stage in the front. The two found themselves a space to boogie and went about shaking their asses, just another normal pair in the sea of costumed party-goers.

“So what made you move to New York?” Michelangelo asked.

“Just trying some place new,” Angel replied. “Got tired of the little podunk town I came from. Not a lot of work there. Was hoping to find more opportunities out here. Maybe get some schooling in. What about you? How long have you been in the NYC?”

“All my life. Was born here. Might even die here. Big fan of the Big Apple.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do with yourself here?”

“Uh...” He paused for a bit, brain trying to come up with a reasonable response. No one had ever asked him his occupation before. “I work with the city in kind of a...crime watch capacity. Trying to clean the crime off the streets, make neighborhoods safer. That kind of thing.”

“Oh, like with the police?”

“I mean...we work with the police sometimes but what we do is more like...a neighborhood watch situation but on a larger scale.”

“Does that pay anything?”

“Uh, not really. It's more of a non-profit type organization. Donnie's the one that makes all the money. He's into tech and sells patents and stuff. He sort of bankrolls us so we can keep going.”

“Oh wow, that's a really noble goal. Though how to do watch the neighborhood on nights that aren't Halloween? With you guys being big turtles and all?”

At first, Michelangelo thought she was joking. “Heh, what?”

“You know, you guys are big turtles. How do you get around the other days of the week if you look after the neighborhoods? You can't convince people these are costumes forever.”

It was such a jarring revelation that Michelangelo's brain shut down, and then immediately went into panic mode. He picked her up under his arm like she was a plank of wood and fled the open area. He slipped through the crowds of people with an uncanny ease for his size and then continued to run past where his brothers were standing.

“Mike!” Raphael called after him.

When that didn't even slow his brother down, the three followed after him into a small, dead-end alley that was poorly-lit and would have very little visibility from the street.

“What?” Leonardo asked as they caught up with him. “What happened?”

By then, Michelangelo had set Angel back on her feet and then chewed nervously on his nail. “She knows!” he hissed, as if he were trying to keep it a secret from those who may be nearby.

“She...knows?” Raphael parroted, confused.

“That we're turtles.”

“Yeah, of course you're turtles,” she replied. She touched Michelangelo's arm and he visibly stiffened at her contact. “Clearly, these aren't costumes. I just think it's cool that you come out one night a year to hang out with people like this.”

“Uh...we actually come out a lot...just not...you know, street level,” Michelangelo replied.

“You mean you...” she pointed to the rooftops. “Is that where you live?”

“No, but it's how we usually get around.”

“Oooh! Like Batman!”

“Right! Yes! Like Batman!” Raphael agreed with excitement.

“Okay, okay, lets calm down,” Leonardo said. “This is a lot to take in all at once. You realized we weren't in costume and you didn't really say anything?”

Angel shrugged. “Hey, you guys were nice to me and you weren't trying to like get me alone in a dark alley or anything. Uh...except for right now. But you guys seem safe. What do I care what you look like? There's not many nice people in this city.

“I thought I would at least be meeting some fun strangers for a night and have the best Halloween. And maybe I would see you guys again, or maybe you were something magical that only happened on All Hallows Eve. Either way, it would be a good memory.”

She looked at the brothers who all had various bewildered looks on their faces. This person, she was someone special. Someone interesting. Someone who rolled with the weird and uncanny. Someone they could possibly make friends with. It had been years since they had dared to bring a new person into their world.

“So...what do you want to do now?” Donatello asked.

“I liked what we were doing,” Angel replied. “Let's keep hanging out. Eat good food, dance to music, talk to each other. And maybe I'll see you again after this?”

The brothers all looked at each other and smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Raphael agreed while Michelangelo nodded excitedly.

“If you're okay with the turtle thing, we're definitely hanging out again.” Michelangelo offered his arm and she took it.

They went back to the block party. They danced and joked. They enjoyed the music, the food, the costumes. The turtles were brighter now. Not so guarded, not so careful or suspicious of the people around them. It had been a long time since anyone new had appeared into their close circle of people they trusted. This was the first one who was their own age. She had seen them and accepted them on sight. This knowledge came with a bit of a happy high for the turtles. A burst of hope and joy at being discovered and immediately accepted without even a demand for an explanation.

And they wanted her to know. They wanted her to see their world. After this night of costumes, they planned to see her again, to show her and share what they were with her. It had been a good Halloween night.

“It's getting late and it's getting cold,” Leonardo eventually announced. “Angel, can we help you get home?”

“If you could walk me to my car?” she replied. “I parked a few blocks away.”

She nodded in the direction they needed to go and Leonardo hovered a hand over the small of her back to guide her.

“It's our pleasure.”

“You think your phone is in the car somewhere?” Michelangelo asked. “If you find it, we can trade numbers.”

“You guys have phones? Like normal phones?” she laughed.

“Of course,” Donatello said in a pragmatic tone. “Why wouldn't we?”

“Oh uh...I guess you could get phones if you really wanted them. Sorry, my bad. I guess you guys feel more magical than practical to me. Like you'll just poof away at the stroke of midnight. Knowing you have phones makes you feel a little more real.”

“Oh, we're real, Angel,” Raphael said with a flirty smile.

“And we'll be your friends if you want us to be,” Leonardo said softly. “We don't have many of those.”

“Neither do I,” Angel replied with the same soft tone. “I would really like that a lot.” They walked a few more feet and she pointed to the last building on the block. “My car is just around this corner.”

As they turned the corner, the turtles jumped back at the sudden red and blue flashing lights. Several police cars and one ambulance were clustered around the accident site of a two-car collision.

“Shit, Angel, I don't think we can walk you all the way to your car. But you should be hella safe with all the—” Michelangelo turned to the woman who had been standing right next to her. But in a blink, she was no longer there. “Angel?” He looked around, then looked at his brothers. “Dude, where'd she go?”

“She was...just right there,” Donatello said in confusion.

Leonardo peered around the corner to see if she had gone on ahead while Raphael looked behind them.

“I don't think she bailed. Where is she?”

Pressed to the side of the building, Leonardo audibly gasped. “I think...I see her.”

The others huddled around him to see what he was looking at. Out of one of the smoking cars, paramedics carried a female body dressed all in white, complete with halo and feathery white wings. White that was marred with smatterings of dark red blood. The body was set on a stretcher where the entire form was covered in a white sheet. No further first aid was administered to costumed angel as she was wheeled to the ambulance. That could only mean one thing.

“What? That...no, that can't...” Michelangelo struggled. “She was here with us all night. I touched her. I fucking picked her up in my arms!”

In his ear, he heard Donatello's ragged breathing, as if he were about to have a panic attack.

“Hey!” A police officer caught their shadows peering around the corner and they quickly ducked out of sight. When the human started toward their location, they quickly took to the rooftops in hopes of getting a better view. But by then, the body was already loaded into the ambulance to be taken away and Angel was nowhere else to be found.

***************

Her death didn't even make the news. What was one collision with a drunk driver with all the other crazy stuff that happened in New York on Halloween? And the turtles were never quite sure what happened that night; what they truly witnessed.

Only a few days into November, they all stopped talking about it. Tried to pretend it didn't happen. And it worked for most of the year. But then...October rolled around again. And as Halloween drew closer, the brothers didn't generate their usual excitement for their one holiday a year when they could go out on the street among the citizens. They still didn't talk about it. And when the night came, there was a certain unspoken trepidation in the air.

“You're not going out tonight?” Splinter asked them as they all brooded in the living room.

“Thinking about it, but...” Raphael trailed off.

“It just feels...weird,” Michelangelo added.

The other two brothers didn't say anything, but they seemed to agree with the sentiment.

“It is a shame your friend passed away after you had only known her for a while,” Splinter said. “But I don't think she would have liked that her memory tainted this holiday for you. You should be thankful you were able to have that time with her before she was gone.”

There was an uncomfortable silence from the turtles. As much as they tried to explain, Splinter never quite understood what they experienced. In his mind, they had met their friend during the party and then she had died in an accident on the way home after. All attempts to explain to the contrary resulted in failure.

“What if you went out just for a while to pay your respects? Perhaps find some closure,” Splinter then offered.

The brothers perked up a little and looked at each other. Something about that felt right.

**********

They went to the site of the crash, a year ago that day. They thought maybe anyone else might be there. Someone who missed her. Someone who felt the loss of her. Humans left flowers at sites like these on an anniversary like this, right? But there was nothing there. A year later, no evidence that the incident ever happened. The only proof that a life was lost here was that several of the road's street lights had been fixed. The collision had been largely blamed on most of the street lights being in disrepair at the time, even though one of the drivers had been drunk.

The turtles stood beside the street, out of the direct glow of the repaired street lights.

“So...do we say something or...?” Donatello asked softly.

“I dunno, we hardly knew her,” Raphael responded.

“Say something if you feel like it,” Leonardo offered.

They were all quiet for a moment, then Michelangelo spoke. “Well, Dudette, you seemed to be a super awesome chick. Too bad we didn't get a chance to see how awesome you really were.”

“A true tragedy,” Donatello agreed.

They stood for a while more and then turned to leave. The music and noise from the block party near by reached them before they could remove the nearest manhole cover.

“You guys wanna pick up some food before we head home?” Michelangelo suggested. “Grab something for Splinter too? See a few costumes, listen to some music before we go?”

The season called to them. It always did. The one festival a year about darkness and masked faces. Spooky fun and all sorts of delicious food. They had to be a part of it, just for a while.

The brothers split up, aiming for their favorite vendors. It wasn't like the year before, where they had a human friend hanging out with them, making them look normal. Now it was back to sticking to the shadows. Darting in and out to get what they were after and then sneaking back to the allies so no one stared at them for too long, lest they be figured out.

Michelangelo meant to grab some caramel apples for himself and one for Splinter, but the music and the atmosphere of the party caught his attention. He still wished to be in the middle of it. Talking with people, laughing, feeling like one of them. Even on this day of magic, he could only exist on the outskirts.

And then...something caught his eye. A woman dressed all in white. A little glittery halo and white, feathery wings. His breath caught in his chest. She turned, as if sensing his eyes on her. Angel looked right at him and smiled.

Happy Halloween

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[ladystoneboobs]

In the dark crypts below Winterfell, a stonemason was chiseling out his father's likeness in granite. [....] Rickon even showed them [the walders frey, big and little] the deep vaults under the earth where the stonemason was carving father's tomb. "You had no right!" Bran screamed at his brother when he heard. "That was our place, a Stark place!" -Bran I, aCoK

He did not like the crypts, had never liked the crypts, but he was no stranger to them. -Theon V, aDwD

relationship to the crypts could best exemplify theon's paradoxical position in the stark household: discomfort and familiarity all mixed together, not a stark, yet not always an outsider either. bran treats the freys' invitation to the crypts as an unheard-of sacrilege though he must have been aware that the previous winterfell ward was "no stranger to them."* theon was more a part of winterfell to bran than the frey boys could ever be, even if bran never much liked him. he'd been there since before bran was born, and was close enough to the family that his being in the crypts was unremarkable. (bran deems it not just a northern or winterfell place, mind, but a stark place.) one does not have to like extended family members or friends of the family, after all. don't we all have that uncle or cousin or sister's bf or brother's friend that we don't really care for or want to spend time with? but you still feel that person is one of you whether you want them to be or not if you attend enough family gatherings together. sometimes familiarity breeds a weird sort of acceptance.

while i do think it is important to note that theon was beaten at winterfell, which none of the starklings (including jon) ever were, and that the adults there certainly understood his position as a hostage better than bran and rickon (or sansa and arya prob) could, idt that means he was always seen as an enemy foreigner by all of them and treated accordingly. after all, even if he was meant to be punished for his father's sins if balon rebelled again, that was not really the only purpose of his being there, more a last resort. everyone was hoping and (vainly) expecting that balon would not make war on them again if his only son's life was on the line, that theon's time in winterfell would bring peace with the ironborn for the forseeable future, and that, in due time, he would end his time as a hostage not on the chopping block but as the new lord of the isles having become a friendly ally to the mainland.

that was what truly messed theon up, the insidiously damaging part of his situation: that he was always ward/fosterling as well as hostage at winterfell, contradictory as that may be. theon was never one of ned's kids, but ned "had tried to play the father from time to time", even if he mostly kept more of a distance with theon. unlike sansa with joffrey after ned's death, or theon's later captivity with the boltons, this was not blatant abuse all the time. that's what made theon want to be a stark even while he still had reason to fear for his life as a hostage, to the point that he was trying to seem like a lord like ned even when taking winterfell in balon's name. when theon expects the winterfellians to accept him as their new prince, that's obviously delusional, (bc he just became no more than an enemy foreigner by taking their home by force, promising to be a good and just lord after some of his men raped palla and while others beat poor hodor at his command!), but idt that means he totally imagined that some of these people liked him well enough beforehand, these men he'd diced, hunted, drank, and "wenched" with, and all the women he'd kissed or had sex with. they were wrong to think he was one of them in the sense of owing the starks absolute loyalty, but idt that means it was unnatural for he or any of them to sometimes feel like he was one of them all the years he was part of the winterfell household.

imo that's part of theon being foils with jon snow, the way that neither of them could ever truly be a stark yet neither was ever a total outcast with no place at winterfell either. they're stuck in a liminal status. bc that's grrm's thing more than any straight either/or categories! jon ofc did have the stark blood and had lived at winterfell since infancy, a major difference from theon, but they each had different advantages over each other while never quite seeing the areas where the other may not have had it better than them. is it coincidence that theon felt unwelcome in the crypts and jon had nightmares of wandering the crypts unwelcome by his own stark ancestors? jon's last crypt dream(s) in asos even include sounds of feasting overhead, as if he's hearing theon's dream feast of the dead**, the same dreamworld for two people dreaming months apart, each visited by bloody grey wind in turn.

*(unless robb only took theon there in the years before bran was born or was old enough to remember, ofc. but i find that explanation very unlikely, given that we know robb and jon still played down there after bran was old enough to go with them, and that theon was still familiar enough with the tombs to recognize the stone starks on sight, both with lady dustin, and before when rickard and brandon appeared in his dream feast of the dead.)

**it's commonly said that theon's feast dream was due to using ned's weirwood bed, but i think that must be a conflation with jaime's weirwood stump dream, bc i cannot find any textual ref to a weirwood bed in winterfell. people are just assuming theon must need a similar weirwood source for his dreams but if rickon could share bran's dead ned crypt dream without being a full greenseer like bran, then why can't theon (whose evilest uncle euron is likely a fallen protege of bloodraven's) have at least one magic dream without being plugged into any weirwood?

[wonderwomanpleasesteponme]

A 'fun' fnaf x Transformers Animated crossover idea.

I'm going to be working with the theory that Fnaf Pizza sim takes place in 2023. So after the events of pizza sim we know someone took over Fazbear Entertainment then made, Fnaf Ar, Fnaf VR: Help Wanted, and eventually the Mega Pizzaplex. It would have taken years for something like the Pizzaplex to be built and it would take even more time to build up enough money to make something like after Henry dissolved the company. So I would say it took around 20 odd years for the Pizzaplex to be built making it 2053 and as we know tfa takes place in the 2050s.

So after the events of Fnaf Ruin and a continuation fan work that I'm making that's 90% self indulgence and 10% what I seriously want to happen in the future of the franchise, that branches off from a Fazbear Flights au that I posted memes for here and never posted any more content of since. Cassie, Roxy, Mxes in a psyhcial form (probably inside of Glamrock Bonnie), Eclipse, and the Stitchwraith (their mostly here because my poor like meow meow doesn't have that much fan content and I wanted Andrew to have a connection to Monty, seriously u don't just introduce a ghost kid who wears an animal then a game later they introduce an animatronic based on the animal of the mask and make them havw nothing to do with each other), are on the run from The Mimic and whatever else was done there with Mxes no longer being able to contain it forcing them to leave the Pizzaplex.

Unfortunately they can't stay with Vanessa, Gregory and Freddy because they would be found much more quicker that way, so they end up traveling by themselves cross country to stay with one of Vanessa's relatives in Detroit who happens to work at Sumdac Tower. Since Detroit quickly became the home of the Autobots no one questions why this little girl is almost always seen with these sentient broken down robots.

Since technically Vanessa's relative, who shall be unnamed for now because I haven't thought of one, is Cassie's legal guardian for now they must have told their co workers at some point and thus they get invited to Sari's birthday party from the episode Sound and Fury. They end up becoming quick friends bonding over the fact that most of their friends are robots and because a complaint I keep seeing about Sari is that she doesn't have any human friends or anyone but the bots and her dad to relate to.

Soundwave doesn't get turned into a Decepticon because Mxes realized something wasn't right and started blocking out Megatron. So Megs has to get inventive of how he was going to foil the Autobots plans and rebuild his body. Mxes basically ends up becoming the Autobots digital security working behind the scenes to prevent Megatron from fucking shit up more.

At the end of it all Cassie hopes she doesn't have to leave because this is the most safe she felt since going to the Pizzaplex that fateful day, because with all the weird alien shit that happens if a random Gitchtrap cultist, a mimic controlled bot or the Mimic itself, tries to attack them odds are an Autobot would be close by to step in to save them.

And the angst potential of when the Autobots try to leave of Cassie having a bit of a mental breakdown because being with them was the safest she felt before The Mimic tried to kill her, other than when she's with Mxes. Then everything about her past and why she moved to Detroit in the first place just comes out and the Autobots are just shocked. Then Andrew and Jake in the Stitchwraith comes along like 'yeah it isn't just the mimic we're on the run from but the digital download of the serial killer that killed Andrew as well'.

[thetypingpup]

i'm still thinking about dragon bard!xj and presumed-dead princess!reader... 🥺 and how i hc that you've been referring to each other as fiancé(e) since the day xj was cursed and fled. and when he finally comes back for you, basically in a heist out of the palace and to his humble nest across the lands... "... you waited for me." "why wouldn't i? you're the best thing that ever happened to me." "wait... really?" "yes, really, silly! oh, you're so warm..." "sleep, my love. we're safe now"

since he can't come to the palace as part of the curse, you'd go to him. he had this whole escape heist planned, only to have it foiled by the fact that he's blocked by an invisible barrier every time he flies near the palace. you'd see him from time to time, wings beating in frustration as he tries to fly in to see you. that's when you make up your mind to go to him. you go on your journey to him, following the general direction he flies off to whenever his plans to storm the palace are thwarted. omg seeing you show up at the cave where he nests would have his heart stopping, his entire being frozen in disbelief. he'd have to be dreaming, surely. he just can't believe that you're here! he can't speak to you in his dragon form, though he does try. all that comes out are growls and guttural rumbles, but somehow you can still understand what he means. you know that he's just as elated as you, that he's been dreaming of this for so long. you embrace him, sighing in content at the warmth that radiates from him. he's quick to curl around you, inviting you to sleep beside him, shielding you from harm as if to tell you that you can rest easy now that you're safe with him.

[keiraconnery]

How Foil Blocked Products Elevate Your Business Stationery

In today's competitive business world, standing out is essential for building a recognizable brand. From your business cards to letterheads, every piece of stationery represents your company’s image and plays a crucial role in making a lasting impression. One highly effective way to enhance the appearance of your business stationery is by incorporating foil blocked elements. Foil blocked products add a touch of elegance and professionalism that can significantly elevate your brand’s presence and communication materials.

What is Foil Blocking?

Foil blocking, also known as foil stamping, is a printing process where metallic or pigmented foil is applied to a surface using heat and pressure. The result is a striking, glossy finish that stands out from the rest of the printed design. This technique can be applied to various types of paper, cardstock, or even leather, making it highly versatile for business stationery. The most common colors used in foil blocking are gold and silver, but other options like copper, rose gold, and even matte finishes are available.

This technique is widely used for a variety of products, including business cards, letterheads, envelopes, presentation folders, and more. Whether you're launching a new product or sending out invitations to an important event, foil blocked elements can add a level of sophistication that traditional printing methods cannot match.

The Appeal of Foil Blocked Business Stationery

When it comes to business stationery, first impressions matter. Handing over a business card or sending a letter on premium paper is often the first tangible interaction a client or customer has with your company. Foil blocking creates an immediate sense of quality and attention to detail. The reflective, metallic finish catches the eye, adding a premium feel to your stationery without being too flashy.

Here are a few ways that foil blocked products can elevate your business stationery:

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For example, adding a foil blocked logo to your business card gives it an elegant, eye-catching touch that sets it apart from standard cards. Similarly, a foil blocked letterhead or envelope can make any communication feel more polished and professional. This added layer of refinement leaves a lasting impression on potential clients or business partners, increasing the chances of your stationery being kept or displayed rather than discarded.

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When you hand someone a foil blocked business card, they’re not just looking at it; they’re also feeling the difference in quality. This creates a more memorable interaction, as the card’s texture communicates luxury and thoughtfulness. The more engaging and sensory the experience, the more likely your stationery is to leave a positive impression.

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In a saturated market, it’s essential to differentiate your brand. Foil blocked products offer a simple yet effective way to do so. Because of their luxurious appearance and distinctive finish, foil blocked elements give your stationery a bespoke, custom-made feel that few competitors will be able to replicate.

When it comes to standing out at networking events or trade shows, having foil blocked business cards can give you an edge. The same goes for other stationery like presentation folders, brochures, or even invitations. By incorporating foil blocked elements, you are conveying that your company values detail and quality, attributes that are attractive to clients and partners alike.

4. Versatility and Customization

One of the greatest advantages of foil blocking is its versatility. Whether you are going for a minimalist, modern look or a more traditional, ornate design, foil blocking can be adapted to suit your brand’s aesthetic. You can choose from a range of colors, finishes, and styles to match your branding and messaging.

For example, a minimalist brand might opt for a subtle, matte gold foil on a plain black background to create a chic and understated look. A more traditional company might prefer an intricate gold foil design that emphasizes heritage and craftsmanship. With foil blocking, the possibilities for customization are nearly endless, allowing you to create stationery that perfectly aligns with your brand’s identity.

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Foil blocked products can significantly increase the perceived value of your brand. Clients and partners will associate your business with luxury and quality simply based on the appearance of your stationery. This perception can have real benefits, especially in industries where trust and professionalism are critical.

For example, a foil blocked invitation to a business event or product launch instantly communicates that the occasion is high-end and worth attending. Similarly, sending a foil blocked thank you card after a meeting or transaction can leave a lasting positive impression, increasing the likelihood of repeat business or referrals.

Foil Blocked Products and Sustainability

While foil blocking is often associated with luxury, many businesses are concerned about sustainability. Fortunately, advancements in foil blocking technology have made it more eco-friendly. Some foils are now recyclable, and many printers use sustainable paper and eco-friendly inks to complement the foil blocking process. This means you can elevate your business stationery with foil blocked products without compromising your environmental values.

For businesses that want to emphasize their commitment to sustainability, combining eco-friendly materials with foil blocking can enhance their brand image even further. It shows that the company cares about the environment while maintaining a premium, professional appearance in their stationery.

Foil Blocked Stationery in Modern Business

Incorporating foil blocked elements into your business stationery is not just about adding a decorative touch. It's about elevating the overall perception of your brand. Whether you're running a startup or managing a well-established company, premium stationery with foil blocked accents can help to set you apart in the marketplace.

Foil blocking aligns with the growing trend of businesses seeking to create personalized, high-quality branding materials. As the digital age advances, physical stationery has become even more valuable as a way to leave a memorable impression. The tactile and visual impact of foil blocked products allows you to communicate professionalism, luxury, and attention to detail — all qualities that build trust and credibility with your clients and partners.

Conclusion

Foil blocked products can make a significant difference in how your business is perceived. They offer a unique combination of visual and tactile appeal that sets your stationery apart from the rest. Whether you’re looking to enhance your business cards, letterheads, envelopes, or any other stationery, incorporating foil blocking can elevate your brand to new heights.

By choosing to include foil blocked elements, you not only increase the aesthetic value of your stationery but also communicate a message of quality, professionalism, and sophistication. This attention to detail can give you an edge over competitors, improve customer perception, and ultimately, contribute to the growth and success of your business.

[qctsfaridabad]

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[stampwithtami]

April 2024 Paper Pumpkin Kit - Delicate Wings

  APRIL 2024  PAPER PUMPKIN KIT Delicate Wings KitSubscribe March 11 - April 10 | April 2024 Paper Pumpkin Kit April 2024 introduces the Delicate Wings Paper Pumpkin card kit, a thoughtfully designed collection that enables crafters to convey messages of encouragement and support through elegant, handmade cards. This kit stands out with its unique partial pop-up elements, adding a new dimension of creativity to your card-making projects. Kit Contents The Delicate Wings kit is comprehensive, providing all the necessary materials to create nine beautiful cards, with three unique designs. Each design comes with coordinating envelopes, ensuring a polished and professional look for your heartfelt messages. Inside the kit, you will find: - Precut Paper Pieces: Each piece is carefully designed with butterfly motifs that symbolize hope and transformation. - Champagne Foil Accents: Add a luxurious touch to your cards with champagne foil images, sentiments, and labels. - Coordinating Colors: The kit features a harmonious color palette including Lost Lagoon, Moody Mauve, Basic Beige, Basic Gray (with a Stampin' spot), Basic Black, and Champagne Foil, chosen to evoke a sense of calm and sophistication. Crafting Experience The Delicate Wings kit offers a seamless crafting experience, suitable for both seasoned crafters and newcomers to the hobby. The precut elements and easy-to-follow instructions ensure a smooth, enjoyable process, resulting in professionally finished cards. The partial pop-up feature introduces a playful element that brings your cards to life, making them stand out. Design and Inspiration Inspiration for the Delicate Wings kit stems from the desire to offer support and encouragement through delicate, thoughtful gestures. The butterfly designs and the elegant color scheme work together to create a serene and uplifting atmosphere, perfect for conveying messages of love and hope. The champagne foil accents add a touch of luxury, making each card a special keepsake. Conclusion The April 2024 Delicate Wings Paper Pumpkin card kit is more than just a set of materials; it's an invitation to connect with loved ones through the timeless art of card-making. With its sophisticated designs, thoughtful elements, and meaningful inspiration, this kit empowers you to create not just cards, but tangible expressions of support and encouragement. Whether you're a seasoned crafter or just beginning, the Delicate Wings kit is your gateway to creating something beautiful and heartfelt, one card at a time. Special Feature: 🎉 Exclusive Add-On Die: Don't miss the opportunity to enhance your crafting experience with a special add-on die that coordinates seamlessly with projects from all three months!   WHAT ARE PAPER PUMPKIN KITS? Paper Pumpkin Subscription: Monthly Creative Surprises For those craving a regular injection of creative inspiration, the Paper Pumpkin Subscription is a monthly adventure that arrives at your doorstep. Key features include: SUBSCRIBE - Monthly Mail Delight: Subscribers receive a specially curated kit by mail every month. Each package includes designed projects, precut pieces, a stamp set, and ink. It’s like receiving a surprise creative adventure in your mailbox each month. - Exclusive Subscriber Benefits: Subscribers to Paper Pumpkin enjoy special perks, including access to exclusive products and offers. It’s a fantastic way to stay connected with the crafting community and unlock additional creative opportunities. - Endless Possibilities: Where will Paper Pumpkin take you this month? With a subscription, you’ll discover new techniques, themes, and crafting styles. It’s a journey of endless possibilities that keeps your creativity flowing. - Acrylic Block: Your first Paper Pumpkin kit will arrive with a reusable acrylic block for your stamps. - Refills: Depending on availability refills for each month’s kit are often available in my online store while they last. - Control: You have full control over your Paper Pumpkin subscriptions and can take a break / pause, cancel and rejoin at anytime. - Alternate Ideas: Go outside the box each month with me as I share alternate ideas for each Paper Pumpkin kit absolutely free on my blog. See my tutorial gallery here. - PPX Bonus Videos: When you subscribe to Paper Pumpkin kits through me, you’ll receive 6 additional videos for alternate projects to the kit. These PPX videos are exclusive and not available anywhere else. Paper Pumpkin kits have a deadline to subscribe each month by the 10th of the month in order to get that month’s kit. That month’s kit isn’t available after the deadline but depending on availability refills will be available in my online store.  PPX VIDEOS: YOUR EXCLUSIVE EXPERIENCE PPX: YOUR EXCLUSIVE PAPER PUMPKIN EXPERIENCE Are you new to paper-crafting, or maybe you’re a dedicated DIY enthusiast with a passion for crafting? If so, you’re in for a treat! Introducing PPX – an exclusive video tutorial program specially curated for our beloved Paper Pumpkin subscribers. For those unfamiliar, Paper Pumpkin is a crafting kit subscription service by Stampin’ Up, delivering a delightful box of creative goodies to your doorstep each month. Now, let’s dive into the exciting world of PPX and discover how it adds an extra layer of joy to your crafting experience. The Magic of Paper Pumpkin:Before we delve into the exclusive video tutorials, let’s take a moment to appreciate the magic of Paper Pumpkin craft kits. As a subscriber, each month brings a new and beautifully curated kit filled with all the materials you need for a creative project. From cards and scrapbooking to home décor and more, Paper Pumpkin provides endless crafting possibilities for both beginners and seasoned crafters. Your Personal Crafting Companion:For those who have fallen in love with the artistry of Paper Pumpkin, PPX is here to elevate your crafting adventure. As an active Paper Pumpkin subscriber, you gain access to six exclusive video tutorials every month, crafted with care and creativity by our team. These tutorials go beyond the instructions in the kit, offering alternate ideas to spark your imagination. Stretching Your Creativity:What sets PPX apart is its commitment to helping you stretch the value of your Paper Pumpkin kit. Each video tutorial takes you on a journey, exploring different ways to use the kit contents and create alternate projects. Whether you’re a beginner looking to expand your crafting skills or a seasoned pro seeking fresh inspiration, PPX is designed to cater to all levels of expertise. Exclusive Access for Subscribers:The exclusivity of PPX isn’t just limited to Paper Pumpkin subscribers; it extends to those who join through a Paper Pumpkin crew member and to my Stamp It Demonstrator Group. This means that when you become part of our crafting community, you’re not only getting the amazing Paper Pumpkin kits but also unlocking the door to a treasure trove of additional creative insights. A Glimpse Into My Crafty World:As a fervent Paper Pumpkin enthusiast, I’ve dedicated an entire gallery of videos to showcase the monthly kits. From unboxing the surprises to guiding you through the crafting process, my goal is to share the joy and excitement that comes with each Paper Pumpkin delivery. Join me on this crafting journey, and let’s explore the endless possibilities together. PPX is more than just a video tutorial program – it’s a community-driven initiative that celebrates the art of crafting. If you’re ready to take your Paper Pumpkin experience to new heights, become an active subscriber today and unlock the exclusive world of PPX. Let the crafting adventures begin! SUBSCRIBE SUBSCRIPTION VS PREPAID CODESWHICH SHOULD I CHOOSE? There are two ways to subscribe to Paper Pumpkin.1. First, we offer a monthly subscription where you pay as you go which is automatic each month. SUBSCRIBE TO PAPER PUMPKIN 2. Secondly, we offer prepaid subscriptions which allow you to pay ahead or give as a gift. Prepaids can be purchased in my online store. After you purchase a subscription, we’ll email you a prepaid code to redeem here at www.paperpumpkin.com to set up your subscription to start receiving your kits.    Read the full article

[denimbex1986]

'Approaching Andrew Haigh’s bewitching “All of Us Strangers,” it’s best to submit to the film’s every whim. This intimate, heartbreaking fantasy centers around an irresistible premise: what if we had more time with someone we lost? Taking it further, Haigh (45 Years) cranks up the emotional stakes: what if that person, those people, weren’t actual angels but warm bodies with the capacity to express true love and dish out judgment and pain in equal measure. Backed by a stunning foursome (Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal, Claire Foy, and Jamie Bell), Haigh’s film earns and rewards the audience’s buy-in. Avoiding rote sentimentality, “Strangers” trades on the considerable chemistry between its key performers (Scott and Foy especially) to spin an imaginative conceit into an extraordinary fable which layers on the heartbreak, offering a complex tribute to love, death and life itself.

Watching a movie in a theater can feel like a public event; but really, it’s a private experience, since each person brings their own histories—all of the hurt, loss, and hope—into a viewing. The moments that sting in “Strangers” might vary from person-to-person, but the suffering rendered is ample, spread fairly evenly among the stars. Far from a dreary downer, Haigh deals with loneliness and loss with a roving, curious eye, going for the jugular and then pulling back, giving all viewers room to process what’s happening on screen and make those fictional maladies our own. At no point does Haigh or any of his game cast feel like they’re overdoing it, nor manipulating emotions for easy tears. The waterworks come, to be sure, but it’s the personal baggage that each viewer carries which will dictate the response, and that’s a testament to the story’s depth.

Of Time Passed and Walls Coming Down

A plot description is necessary, but inadequate: Adam (Andrew Scott) is a blocked writer who lives alone in a London flat. One night, his neighbor Harry (Paul Mescal) introduces himself, knocking on his door and flirting with a bottle in hand. Adam’s flattered, and maybe a bit scared, and above all he needs to get back to work, so he seeks inspiration back where he grew up, taking a train to the suburbs. Once off the train, he follows a mysteriously familiar face—seen exiting a liquor store—back to his childhood home. It’s Adam’s dad (Jamie Bell), mustachioed and looking not a year older than his son. The easygoing banter between the two leads and the warm greeting from Adam’s mum (Claire Foy) at the house overshadows the fact that both of Adam’s parents died in a car accident when he was twelve years old.

The casual reunion slips back to the ‘80s (soundtrack included) with ease, no need to rush discussing the obvious elephant in the room. But, in acknowledging how Adam has grown into a man, dad and mum aren’t ignoring the surreal dreamscape the trio inhabits. Invigorated, or maybe just love-drunk, Adam goes home and invites a sober and embarrassed Harry (“I don’t drink anymore”) over, and the walls quickly come down. That they have sex doesn’t hurt to break the ice, but it’s Harry’s sensitive inquisition and sharing of his own personal history which brings out Adam’s honesty. Adam admits that he hadn’t favored sex (“Because I was afraid it would kill me”) over the years, and when Harry mentions his family, Adam then reveals that both parents were killed decades ago. Harry’s therapeutic grace—neither shocked nor per-formatively pitying—has an almost angelic quality, a foil to Adam’s hardened exterior.

Humanizing the Dead and Paying Respect

Emboldened, and a bit mystified by his abundant companionship, Adam returns home again the next day. When his mum asks if he has a girlfriend, Adam clenchingly delivers the news that he’s gay. Watch this exchange on mute, and the two faces tell all the story. Foy is aghast, stripped of a poker face and making no effort to withhold disappointment, while Adam is wounded, yet continues to reassure mum (“It’s different now”), assuming the role of caretaker when he’s the one who deserves compassion and empathy. The next day, Adam’s father (mum won’t come downstairs to see them) wonders why he didn’t come out when he was younger, and in a shocking admission, tells his son that he probably would have bullied—or at best ignored—a kid like Adam growing up.

No one apologizes for these harsh prejudices, and Haigh’s storytelling skill is evident here, allowing the people to resolve conflict instead of editorializing or inserting some heavy-handed lesson about why mum and dad acted so horribly. They’re dead, after all. And by humanizing the parents, in all their folly, Haigh pays respect to the dead, letting them be who they are, or who they would’ve been, rather than summoning a more predictable trope of the all-knowing heavenly figures in classics such as “A Matter of Life and Death” (1946) and “Here Comes Mr. Jordan” (1941). The ignorance, in Adam’s eyes, doesn’t make his parents less capable—or worthy—of love. So he forges ahead, literally sandwiching himself between his parents in their bed, wearing his old pajamas, and talking about his childhood dreams of going on vacation with his mum, fighting and making up.

The Necessity of Preserving the Past

Of course, Adam insists that Harry meet the parents, and when that visit goes awry, it sets in motion a breathtaking, enigmatic finale. Part of why a plot synopsis here is particularly insufficient is because any number of Haigh’s strategies could come off as contrived or frivolous. (A grown-up Adam wearing his childhood clothing, for one.) But these are calculated risks, and Haigh’s leaning on his own imagination, subverting certain death-and-after-life cinematic touchstones to unveil a singular love story, whose components: father/son, mother/son, mother/father and Adam/Harry are all so clearly too good to be true. Credit goes to Haigh for pulling this off, but much needs to be said about the otherworldly performances. Foy, to me, is the beating heart, and her two-hander scenes with Scott (equally commanding) are still vibrating in my head, like so many of Haigh’s on-point needle drops.

It’s customary to see the bereaved on-screen, mourning a loss and, if they’re lucky, achieving some closure. But Haigh’s gamble is to show that those who survive and grieve aren’t the only ones who have suffered. Dead parents hurt too. And if that sounds glib, it’s just another coup of Haigh’s to make us cry for the departed, not because we miss them—there’s that too—but because they’ll never live to see us love, hurt, fall down flat and soar again. This is a film that offers a realistic depiction of a magical scenario, and is less concerned with answers than questions. Talking to his mum in bed, Adam describes—with a smile—a dream in which they went on vacation and just kept fighting. Death might kill part of the future, but luckily for Adam, the past didn’t evaporate alongside it.'

[lunarflux]

Let's talk about this story while I anxiously try to get past my exhaustion and writer's block! (part 1)

Serpent on Fire as a title was a random thought that I somehow was able to work into the actual storyline. I would love to say that my planning ability was so impressive that I'd had this in mind from the start, but to show how this was just not the case, let's take this to the very beginning where this story was actually just an unnamed draft I wrote that sat in a Google Drive for over five years... and it wasn't even my Drive.

Back in college, my roommate and I would often talk about fanfiction. She and I wrote for completely different fandoms, but one of the few fandoms we shared was Harry Potter. We're both Slytherins and knew that together, we'd be able to plan something amazing since we'd planned something before (except it never made it to an actual story... I still have the full storyline written out in my notebook). This story was in her Drive as a shared document under the title "Harry Potter AU" and was initially built off a Draco story I tried to write back when I was in high school. This chapter actually never got used.

Anyway, the first two chapters were written out, and each OC was clearly meant to have each of our personalities - I was Io, she was Aster.

Last March, I unfortunately got laid off, and during my time trying to get back on my feet, I decided that I would finally try to get back into writing when I remembered that this draft existed and it had not been touched since around 2015 or 2016. I think it's important to mention that I wrote this - she and I worked on the plot together, but her part in planning actually stops very early on. I found the draft and did what I could to change things around, so that Aster was actually now a reflection of myself. If you see the contrast in Io and Aster's personalities, truly, Io is my true personality whereas Aster is who I would be if I wasn't so worried about what others thought. She's more impulsive and emotional, and Io thinks deeply and internalizes her heavy emotions to keep herself from feeling like a burden.

I always loved Draco's character even when I was younger. When I heard from one of the producers in a behind-the-scenes video that Draco was a foil for Harry in the way that Harry was always meant to make the right decision and Draco wants to but can't, I just grew more fervent in my opinion of him. I have always been the kind of person to want to know the depth of why someone acts the way they do and how the circumstances of our upbringings can help us to understand our personalities. That being said, it led me to further wonder where that threshold was for Draco - what would really push him to step away from his family and the Death Eaters? We saw small pieces of his redemption in the movie, but that was done purely out of the fact that he wasn't truly evil (an asshole, maybe). I wanted to completely see how it would play out if he had a personal reason outside of his family that could influence him to rip away from it all.

The second part of this was understanding what kind of person would be enough for Draco to want more. I struggled with this at first because I definitely thought I might have rushed Io and Draco's relationship, so I ended up sitting down and really thinking "why is he in love with her? how did he fall in love? when?" From that, I noticed that when he says he knows "enough," he really meant it. He didn't need to know more because it wasn't necessarily about what he knew about Io (and her personality, her upbringing, or her habits) because he was drawn to her based on what she didn't show. She didn't show weakness, but she showed a willingness to prove herself without expecting a reaction. She didn't try to get his attention (even though she already had it). She didn't flirt with him - instead, she invited him in to make his own assumptions based on the small things she was willing to show. In the same breath, despite her not knowing much about him, she felt naturally compelled to let him in because he was not aggressive, and he would only move forward if she allowed him to. I think Io looked at Draco like a severely misunderstood piece of art, and she couldn't understand why others couldn't see his beauty. And while there were definitely others who saw it, they tried to force more out of him, and that only made him recoil. She left the door open, told him that he could come in if he wanted to, and that openness and gentle way of giving him permission to be weak around her is why he loved her. No one else had let him be weak without ostracizing him for it. They gave each other permission to be weak and to see the other be weak.

Maybe one day I'll post a picture of that page where I broke down all these answers...

What should I explain next?