#it was nearly half of my middle school experience (other half was. another fandom) and man. i love this guy

[larabar]

paying respects to the kid who got me through middle school o7

[fallen-gravity]

awaken the stars, ‘cause they’re all around you

Stanford Pines never really believed in soulmates.

He can't imagine the idea that there's one person out there for him in the multiverse who would stop at nothing to love him for who he is, despite everything he is and everything he's done. He can't imagine that someone out there is meant for him, someone who will stand by his side until the end of time.

Or maybe he'd just been looking at it from the wrong angle.

Notes: 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @stariousfalls!!!!! I can't believe we've been friends for upwards of five years now?? You've been a huge inspiration of mine from my first day in the gravity falls fandom back in late 2014, and now you're one of my closest friends. I've been spending the last week and a half working on this behind your back, because I wanted to surprise you with a gift I thought you'd love!!

7.5k words of fluff was....not my original plan, but fluff brain wanted to go feral for you, I guess.

Huge, huge shoutout to @ariasofelegance  for helping me keep my mouth shut about this, I absolutely would've internally combusted without your help & support

AO3

Ford never saw the appeal of romantic relationships.

One night when he and Stan were kids, they snuck downstairs in the middle of the night after their parents were asleep to dig through Pa’s “Secret stash” of movies he thought he was good at keeping a secret. They’d thought for sure they’d be coming across bootleg cuts of action movies that were still playing in theaters, or documentaries about how all of the politicians in power were secretly aliens. 

What they actually found was much more…sensual. They were both horrified, to say the least, but each time Ford had to turn away to prevent himself from gagging, he’d hear Stan beside him struggling not to laugh. 

For years, Ford was convinced coming across those tapes before he was old enough to fully comprehend what was happening in them is what had turned him off to relationships altogether. It certainly didn’t help that he was never able to experience romantic relationships firsthand, as every time he tried asking someone out in high school he’d just be laughed at or called a freak.

Though college was another story entirely, his feelings towards romantic relationships never seemed to change. He went out with a girl from his dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons club for a few weeks, a guy from his advanced physics class for almost two months, and even tried going out with Fiddleford for upwards of nine months, but he never felt that deeper connection with any of them, no matter how much he wanted to feel that connection. 

It’d be forty more years before he learned the term aromantic, but when he was still in college he would brush off his parents’ questions about his relationship status by telling them he was too busy working on his thesis, which technically wasn’t all that far from the truth anyway.

Still, the faint sense of yearning never seemed to leave him be. Whenever he found gaps in his schedule, he would spend hours in his university library reading up on the science of relationships and their place in society. Though he no longer remembers most of the papers he read, one scientific study that’s always stuck with him was a dissertation written entirely on the concept of soulmates.

Everyone has a soulmate, the paper claimed. Though it may be decades until you properly meet, your path always leads to the moment that you and your soulmate are finally united. Once finally together, not a single force on earth can tear you apart. Even if you are apart physically, the stars will always align to bring you together. Weirdest of all, the paper mentioned soulmarks, which were described as “the phenomenon that a person’s very soul is marked with a piece that belongs to their soulmate, which may appear as a physical anomaly on a person’s body, such as an oddly-shaped birthmark”. 

Ford had thought for sure that somebody must’ve moved a romance novel into the sociology section of the library as a joke. The only sort of anomaly he had going for him was his polydactyly, and thinking too much about how that could connect him to a single person who was destined to love him gave him a headache. 

Nowadays, though, Ford tries not to give it much thought. He’s perfectly happy right where he is, watching the sunrise from the deck of the Stan O’ War II through the steam visibly rising from his coffee mug. 

He sighs contently. 

“Mornin’” Stan’s voice sounds beside him, gruff with sleep. When Ford turns to look at him, he’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he holds a steaming cup of coffee in his other. He’s already donning one of the sweaters Mabel mailed to him, a deep blue with a tropical island and a treasure chest stitched across the chest.

Ford smirks. “You’re up early” 

Stan cocks an eyebrow as he sips from his coffee. “A’course I am. I always get up early when we’re docking to see the kids”

Ford blinks, the teasing smirk on his face melting into a gentle smile. “That’s today?” 

“Haven’t you checked the calendar lately?” Stan tosses a second handmade sweater at Ford. This one’s the same shade of maroon as his journal covers, and pictures an angry cycloptopus squirting ink towards the bottom left corner of the sweater. “The kids are on spring break. They talked to their parents about letting us have ‘em all week” 

Ford is quick to pull the warm sweater over his head. “All week?” 

He can’t help sounding like a broken record, but it’s been months since the last time he saw the kids face to face. Sure, they talk over video at least once a week, but nothing beats seeing their smiling faces and having them nearly tackle him to the ground in a hug in-person. 

“Heh, you miss em too, Sixer?” 

As little as two years ago, Ford would’ve flinched at the nickname. But Bill is gone for good, and Ford knows that Bill is gone for good, and Stan made a promise to do anything in his power to help him reclaim the nickname. He brings his mug close to his face without taking a sip, allowing himself to take in the warmth in his hands and the steam in his face.

“Not as much as you, clearly” Ford smirks, and Stan crosses his arms over his chest.

“You bet I missed them more than you. I’d been taking care of them all summer before you showed up and fell in love with them in half that time”

Ford smirks as he finishes up his coffee and heads into the navigation room to set their course. “By that logic, wouldn’t that mean that I miss them more, since I had less time with them?”

“Hey!” Stan groans as he follows him into the room. “It does not. It means that you don’t know them like I know them, genius. Everyone knows that it’s all about how much time you’ve spent with a person that determines how close you are with them” 

Ford laughs as he enters the coordinates they need to get to the seaport they were meeting the young twins at. From the looks of it, it’d be three hours before they arrived. 

“Mm, and who put that study together? Was it you?” 

Stan doesn’t reply with words, just a noise that sounds halfway between disgruntled and baffled. It makes Ford laugh even harder, and he wipes at his eyes with a wrist. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Stan’s overdramatic pout melt away until he’s laughing too. 

The sight of it makes the smile on Ford’s face widen. It’d been decades since the two of them were able to just be like this. It’d been so long since the last time Ford heard Stan’s genuine laugh that he’d gone and forgotten what it sounded like altogether. When he was still traveling the multiverse, he searched far and wide for a shred of hope, something to keep his anxieties and nightmares from catching up to him.

What a fool he’d been to ignore his childhood memories of home. 

The trip is a quiet but familiar one. Ford can’t talk much when he’s steering because he needs to be on constant lookout, but Stan remains in the room to talk at him and keep him company anyway. The sun is well over the horizon by the time they reach the seaport, and call it instincts, intuition, or something else entirely, because Ford spots the kids sitting on a bench in the near distance the moment he and Stan step foot onto the dock. 

They’re squished closely together, watching a video on Mabel’s phone. Whether they’re aware of it or not, they’re swaying their legs back and forth underneath the bench in perfect unison. On the ground beside them are their backpacks, overstuffed with so many things that both of them are popping open. 

Most importantly, neither of them have noticed that Ford and Stan are approaching them. 

Ford exchanges an amused glance with Stan, and clears his throat to catch their attention. 

The phone nearly stumbles out of their hands in shock when they look up and meet their eyes.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel squeals, standing to sprint past Ford to knock Stan off of his feet. Ford chuckles at the sight, but not quickly enough to hear Dipper’s “Great Uncle Ford!”, and before he knows it he’s hitting the floor too. The young twins are laughing messes, and stumble over each other as they try to stand to their feet and help their Grunkles up. 

Mabel spits out the hair that stuck to her mouth, and pulls a hair tie seemingly out of thin air to tie her hair up into a ponytail. It’s only now that Ford realizes that she and Dipper are also both wearing sweaters, and if Ford had to guess, it looks like Mabel made both of these sweaters as well. Mabel’s is a galaxy print with actual twinkling stars, and Ford makes a mental note to ask her later what she did to make it glow like that. Dipper’s is also space themed, though his pictures the big dipper splotched across a black night sky with a bright orange meteor shooting through the center.

“You have to tell us about everything you’ve encountered”, Dipper beams, once Stan finishes brushing himself off. 

Stan cocks an eyebrow. “Two years’ worth is a lot to get through, kiddo”

“Exactly!” Mabel beams, turning to pick up her backpack and put it on. “Which is exactly why you can tell us on the way to the hotel!” 

“Hotel?” Ford and Stan ask in unison.

“Surprise?” Dipper giggles. “Our parents rented us a hotel room for the week cause they figured you’d appreciate some time away from the boat” 

“It’ll be like our summer in Gravity Falls all over again!” Mabel grins. “But in reverse! You’re in our territory now” 

Stan laughs. “You’re the boss, kiddo”

“You bet I am!” She beams, and hands Dipper his backpack. “Now c’mon! If you tell us all of the horrors you’ve encountered out at sea, we’ll tell you about all the horrors we’ve encountered in high school!”

“I...think I remember those horrors pretty well already, thank you” Ford smiles sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “But we’d be more than glad to tell you some of our own stories”

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, but Ford honestly wouldn’t mind if they walked all the way to the hotel on foot if it meant an extra half an hour with the kids. They’re just as eccentric as he remembers, attached at the hip but still wildly different people all on their own. Dipper’s still hanging on to every word he’s saying, and Mabel’s still skipping along like she’s in her own world. 

Once they reach the hotel and check in, Dipper collapses face first onto one of the beds the moment he steps into the room, groaning. 

Stan smiles. “Something bothering you, kiddo?” 

He turns on his side to look Stan in the eye, his face smushing into the pillow. “Mabel didn’t let me get any sleep last night. She insisted on getting to the seaport three whole hours early because she insisted that she had this gut feeling that you guys would have the same idea and we’d magically show up at the same time” 

Mabel pouts, and sits on the bed besides him. “Well it’s not my fault you stayed up late reading that dumb book of yours. Plus, would you rather have kept them waiting for three hours?” 

Dipper removes his hat and places it on the table beside him, exposing just enough of his forehead through his hair to reveal his birthmark. It has the same faint glow to it as Mabel’s sweater, and Ford wonders how the two could possibly reflect off of each other. 

“Their boat has beds and a fully stocked kitchen, Mabel. They can afford to wait. All we had were those strawberry pop tarts that you ate five minutes after we got there”

Ford can’t help but smile softly at their banter. He missed them so, so, much more than he could’ve ever imagined. He’s got half a mind to stow them away on the boat at the end of the week and homeschool them both himself so he never has to be apart from them again.

Apart. The word still feels like a knife twisted into his chest. There’s nothing he regrets more than trying to separate the young twins from each other two summers ago because he’d been so caught up in projecting his own fears onto the pair. He’d tried apologizing to Mabel over the whole ordeal, but she stopped him before he could even start to tell him he had nothing to worry about.

He only wishes he could learn to forgive himself as easily as she did.

“...Can we, Grunkle Ford?”

He blushes. Had he just said all of that out loud?

“Can we...what?” 

“Take the boat out! Not right now, since Dips is being a grumpy-grump and insists on wasting precious time with a nap, but we’ve been talking about it all week”

From across the room, Stan snorts. “Let me get this straight,” he takes his jacket off and hangs it up in the closet. At this point Ford swears his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because Stan’s old burn scar is glowing just as Mabel’s sweater and Dipper’s birthmark are. “All the time you spent groaning and complaining about fishing every time I took you in Gravity Falls, and now you’re asking to go fishing?” 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a joy ride,” Dipper yawns from under the covers. “But if agreeing to go fishing is what gets you to say yes, then sure” 

He’s smirking under the covers, Ford can tell, because he inherited that expression from Stan.

Stan’s about to bite back, but Dipper must not have been exaggerating about how long he and Mabel were waiting for them at the dock, because he’s already out cold. Stan smiles at him, gently ruffling up his hair before he takes a seat on the adjacent bed, kicking his shoes off so he can kick his feet up on the bed and relax. Ford sits beside Stan, and Stan slings his arms behind him to support his head in his hands as he glances over at Ford. 

“They make you wanna retire the whole ‘treasure hunting’ thing and move into the city to be closer to ‘em too?”

Ford chuckles. “I’ve already considered hiding them away on the boat twice today already.” He taps at his chin. “Though I suppose that moving in with them would go over better with their parents then taking them away to live on a boat” 

“Hmm…” Stan taps at his chin as well. “Being stuck in the same stuffy high school for four years, or living on a boat traveling all over the world whenever they feel like it? I dunno about you, Sixer, but I have a pretty good idea on what the kids would prefer”

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” Mabel’s voice suddenly chimes in, and Ford blushes, wondering how much of that she just heard. 

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Stan asks. 

“Well, uh, Dipper was right about us only eating once really early this morning, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to, uh” She twirls her hair between her fingers. “Cook something for us? For old time’s sake?”

Okay, it’s settled, Ford’s never letting these kids go again. 

“Sure, kiddo. Soon as your brother’s up we’ll head right back up, okay?” 

“Okay!” she beams, and crawls back into her side of the bed, staring at Dipper like she can will him into waking up on command. 

Though Ford would’ve been okay if they’d had to wait hours for him, it’s really only about twenty minutes before Dipper opens his eyes again and nearly shrieks in surprise at Mabel’s face hovering three inches from his own. He smacks his hand into her face to shove her away, and she giggles as she rolls off the bed and onto the floor. 

Beside Ford, Stan smirks. “Better get up before we leave without you and all our food goes to Mabel, kiddo. You’ve got plenty of time to crash in Ford’s bed on the ship, since he never seems to use it anyway”

Dipper yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he kicks the covers off. “I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep”

“I didn’t realize you were even capable of sleep, bro-bro” Mabel punches him in the shoulder as she walks past him to put her shoes on. He glares at her wordlessly, and Ford has to cover up his snicker with a fake cough. 

This time, the bus ride and the walk back to the ship are a quiet one. Ford never really lets himself let his guard down and relax for an extended period of the time, so he cherishes any moment he can get where he finally feels like he doesn’t constantly feel the need to check over his shoulder for signs of danger. Most of the time, if you asked him about his heightened senses, he’d call them a curse. But on days like these, when he can hear the birds chirping and the waves smacking gently against the boats in the seaport, he’d almost go as far as calling it a blessing. 

The kids take a seat at the dining table as soon as they enter the kitchen, and Stan grins at them from over his shoulder as he clicks the stove on. “Whaddya say, Stancakes?” 

Dipper and Mabel grimace in unison. “Ewwww, Grunkle Stan, you promised lunch!” Mabel scrunches her nose, and Stan’s grin only widens. 

“Ah, ah, you said like old times. That means I get to decide what to make, and you have to eat it because I’m your legal guardian”.

“Well I wasn’t even awake when you were talking about old times, so I’d say that cancels out” Dipper crosses his arms over his chest, and Ford can’t help but smile warmly at the three of them as he reaches into the cupboard for his favorite coffee mug. The younger twins clearly had just gotten two copies of the same mug, but crossed both of them out so they’d say #1 GRUNKLES on them instead of #1 UNCLE. Stan has the other one, of course, but he keeps it on his bedside to hold small treasures and keepsakes because it’s, in his own words, “Too special to waste on something as ordinary as coffee”.

Ford sits himself in the seat between the younger twins at their okay, and after some back and forth banter between the four of them, they end up settling for burgers. Truth be told, this is the first time Ford’s eaten a meal in a group larger than two since the last time he and Stan visited the young twins in the winter, and he can’t help but smile into his food at the thought. The closest he’d come even remotely close to eating with others in his research years was his very, very brief time at the truck stop diner, and the experience had soured his view of...well, other people for near decades.

Now, though, he’d burn his own research dozens of times over before he’d even consider eating alone.

Stan’s chair scraping across the floor as he stands pops Ford out of his bubble of serenity. 

“Now that that’s taken care of,” Stan cracks his knuckles, smiling mischievously at Dipper and Mabel. “I think I remember a couple of kiddos finally promising their Grunkle Stan he could take them fishing”

“Promise is a strong word-” Dipper starts as he stands to place his plate in the sink, but Stan’s already placing a fishing hat on his head before he can finish his sentence. 

“Course you did! You wanna take our baby for a joyride, you gotta earn it first”

Dipper turns to Ford, like he’s expecting him to back him up.

Ford chuckles. “I don’t know, Dipper. That sounds perfectly reasonable to me”.

Dipper scoffs, sitting back down at the table. Mabel laughs. 

“Aww, C’mon, Dipper! Aren’t you all about the supernatural? For all we know, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford could be harboring magical glowing bait that only attracts, like, magical talking fish men, or something!” 

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just receive a bottle message from Mermando last week?”

“Exactly!” Mabel flashes a grin. “That must mean that he’s in the area!”

Stan laughs. “You tellin’ me you only agreed to go fishing so you could kiss and make-up with your long-distance fish boyfriend?”

“Grunkle Stan, what kind of person do you take me for?” she gasps. “He’s married! You know I would never want to break apart such a loving couple!”

Ford’s smile only warms. Where else could he partake in such a conversation that doesn’t turn heads and result in judgmental whispers? Where else can he just be like this, surrounded by loved ones who are just as weird, just as out of the ordinary as himself? In his younger years he thought for sure his place would be among the monsters and cryptids everyone in his childhood made him out to be, but even in the weirdness capital of the country he felt more alone than ever. 

“...Don’t think you’re immune, Sixer” Stan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and before Ford can ask what he means Stan is smacking a homemade fishing cap on his head. “It may ruin your badass image when we’re monster hunting, or whatever, but we’re fishing with the kids.” Stan gestures to them with his thumb. They’re already outside, leaning over the railing to look out at the water in a perfect mirror of each other.  “If they have to embarrass themselves by humoring me for a few hours, so do you” 

Ford waits for Stan to join the kids outside before he takes his hat off to admire the stitch work. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near the fancy embroidery he and Stan have found in various markets across their world travels. But it’s personalized, and Ford knows it comes from a place in Stan’s mind that’s been stuck behind lock and key since he was seventeen.

Ford runs his hands along each individual letter, which reads POINDEXTER, before placing it back on his head to join the others outside. 

Stan has, miraculously, already pulled out his joke book. Stan’s laughing too hard at his own joke for Ford to really make out what the punchline is, but the younger twins�� collective groans is all he needs to know about it. When Mabel notices him stepping out of the doorway, though, her expression shifts entirely. 

“So…” she draws out, stepping towards him. “Is there a trick for attracting merpeople to your boat? I mean, asides from being super cute, obviously” 

Ford chuckles, taking a glance behind her to make sure that Stan is out of earshot. “Stan’ll kill me if I tell you this, but they’re really attracted towards shiny things. If you tied one of his gold necklaces around a fishing pole and dangled it into the water, the boat’ll be surrounded in minutes” 

Mabel offers up her pinkie finger. “I won’t tell him if you won’t”

Ford interlocks his pinkie with hers, smiling. “I think he’ll notice when a whole family of merpeople show up”

“Hmmm…” Mabel taps at her chin with her free hand, visibly mouthing a plan to herself. “Oh! I know! Come with me,” she beams, and before Ford can even open his mouth to respond she’s already dragging him back into the kitchen. She kneels down on the floor and opens the cupboard below the sink. “Got any empty bottles I can use?”

Ford blinks. “Empty....bottles”

“Yeah!” Mabel pulls a neatly folded piece of paper out of her skirt. “If I can send out my response letter the same time we throw Stan’s necklace over, he’ll never be able to tell the difference!”

“Wait, wait” Ford shakes his head. “You really are dating a merperson?”

“Listening skills, Grunkle Ford” she taps at her forehead, folding the letter back into her pocket as she continues to dig through the cupboards. “Used to date. We met at the Gravity Falls Public Pool, where he was stuck, but then I drove him to the lake in a golf cart I stole from the pool grounds because he really missed his family, and then he was my first kiss, and then we were in a long-distance relationship for like, two months, and I kept every single bottle he sent me, but then we had to break up because he was arranged to marry to prevent a big undersea war.” She picks up a bottle, shakes it, and puts it back when it’s too full for her liking. “I know it sounds, like, super complicated, but it’s all okay, because we’re still pen pals!” 

Ford laughs, shaking his head. “No, Mabel, I had to ask because I, uh…” his cheeks warm, and he clears his throat. “Before I...came to term with my orientation, I...dated a merperson too” 

The bottles in the cupboard rattle as Mabel’s head smacks against the doorframe. She’s rubbing the spot where her head hit, but there are stars in her eyes. “Really?” 

Ford’s cheeks burn even hotter. “Yes,” he whispers, and takes a knee so he can get at her eye level. “Technically he was a siren, but yes, we dated for about a month. He promised me he wouldn’t entice anyone else while we were together, but I guess there wasn’t anything...there.” He turns to help her shuffle through the cupboard, and finds a near-empty bottle of olive oil that’s definitely been sitting down there for at least a year. He hands it off to Mabel, smiling. “I’m glad that things worked out with you, though” 

To his surprise, Mabel drops the bottle and throws her arms around him in a hug. “I can’t wait to introduce you! He’s gonna love you”

Ford huffs a quiet laugh, and pulls her close as he winds his arms around her as well. The hug only lasts for a few brief moments, but it feels to Ford in those moments that time itself had stopped. Mabel stands, taking the bottle in one hand and offering to help Ford up in her other. 

Mabel places the bottle in the sink and turns the water on to rinse it out before she turns back towards Ford, stretching her arms up in the air as if she were warming up for an exercise. “Alright, here’s the plan. You tell me where Grunkle Stan keeps all of his jewelry, and I’ll sneak in and take his necklace while you distract him. Got it?”

Ford smiles. “Got it”.

As Mabel splits away for Stan’s bedroom, Ford heads back out to the deck. Dipper’s leaning over the side of the boat pointing at something jumping out of the water, rambling excitedly to Stan beside him. He’s holding his fishing hat in his hand to stop it from blowing into the water, and his hair is bouncing in the breeze. It’s just enough for the edge of his birthmark to poke through his bangs, and even in broad daylight it seems to be emitting a faint glow.

“I found it!” Mabel cheers, bounding up from behind him. She’s wearing the chain around her neck, and for some reason the gold seems much dimmer in contrast to her sweater. She takes it off and hands it to him. “You wanna do the honors while I go and throw this overboard?”

Ford smiles, ruffling her hair. “Sure thing.” He walks over to where Stan and Dipper are chatting and picks up one of the extra fishing rods. Making sure that Stan’s too engrossed with his conversation to notice, Ford starts wrapping the chain along the line, and at the signal from Mabel, he tosses his line as far from the boat as he can manage.

Five minutes pass before Mabel squeals so loud that Ford’s afraid his glasses might shatter. He reaches for the gun he knows he’s got stashed in his pants pocket, but when he turns to run to her aid she’s leaning halfway over the boat wrapping her arms around a young merman in a tight hug.

“...so good to see you again!” She’s beaming. “I didn’t think you’d be able to find us so quickly!”

“Yes, well, you were easy to track down after we figured out the coordinates to the seaport” the young man says in a thick Spanish accent. “It is good to see you too! My family was so excited to meet you”

“Your family?” she gasps. “Did they all come with you?” 

“Of course!” he grins. “We merpeople are very family oriented. Wherever we go, we go together” 

Ford winces at the uncanny familiarity of the statement. Mabel must recognize the statement too, because she responds with “Oh, that reminds me! There’s someone I want you guys to meet! Wait right here,” she says, and comes bouncing back over to Ford. Taking his hand in her own, she starts to drag him back to where she’d just been leaning. “C’mon! He’s the one I was just talking about!”

Three more merpeople emerge from the water when she gently knocks on the side of the boat again. “Grunkle Ford, this is Mermando!” she grins, gesturing to the young merman she’d just been conversing with. “He’s the one I helped reunite with his family after they were separated by tragic circumstances.” She wraps her arms around Ford in a side-hug. “Mermando, this is my Grunkle Ford! He was also separated from his family by tragic circumstances, but I helped with that too!” 

Mermando laughs. “Even when you think it’s the end, family always finds its way, doesn’t it?”

Ford laughs, shaking his hand. “It always seems that way to me”

“Awwww!” Mabel squeals. “I knew you’d get along!” She grins, and turns her attention back towards Mermando. “Before I forget, though, did you see where Grunkle Ford threw that gold necklace? If I don’t get it back my Grunkle Stan’s gonna kill me”

Mermando laughs again. “I was wondering if that belonged to any of you!” He takes off his shell necklace to reveal that he’d put Stan’s necklace on around his neck. He takes that off, too, and offers it to Ford. “I much prefer this one, anyway” he clicks his shell necklace open, revealing it to be a locket with a picture of his family inside.

Ford takes the gold necklace back, and he means to thank him, but a bell ringing from elsewhere in the port interrupts him before he can open his mouth. Mermando turns to Mabel, taking her hands in his own. “We must go. I’m so sorry we have to leave so soon, but we merpeople recognize the sounds of fishing boats very easily. We’ll try to come back later this week” He opens his arms for her once more, and Mabel wraps his arms around him in a quick hug before she watches him and his family swim away. 

“I am so glad that all you were doing was hugging,” Dipper shudders as he and Stan approach Ford and Mabel. “I’m not sure my stomach could handle witnessing you two kissing a second time” 

“Awww,” Mabel punches him playfully in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous that I had a boyfriend before you did!” 

Dipper cringes. “If you having a boyfriend before I do means I didn’t have to be the one dating a fish, then I’m glad you were the one who got stuck with him first” He punches her back, and gestures at Stan over his shoulder with his thumb. “But anyways, I came over here because Grunkle Stan says he wants to get out on the open water before everyone else gets the idea, or something”.

Ford pockets Stan’s necklace and makes a mental note to put it away sometime later tonight when Stan is too distracted to notice. “Tell Stan I’m going to untie the rope from the edge of the dock, and when he sees me back on board we’re all set to go.”

Nodding, Dipper bounds off towards the navigation room where Stan must be waiting, and Ford steps off of the boat to take care of everything else. On the way to the bow, he traces a hand along the white painted STAN O’ WAR II, and a feeling of warmth sprouts in his chest. Once back on board, he waves to Stan as he passes besides the navigation room once more, and takes a seat on one of the beach chairs they liked to keep aboard. 

Most days, Ford prefers to be the one at the wheel. But every once in a while he just wants to be. All he wants to do is lean back in one of their beach chairs and let the sun warm his face. It’s a good kind of warm, the same way spending time with the kids and heavy rain hitting his bedroom window and planning new escapades with Stan feel warm. After so, so long of only knowing unbearable burns, it feels indescribable to have a constant back in his life that heals, rather than hurts. 

“Mind if we join you?” Dipper asks, and Ford glances over to see both of the young twins dragging a chair behind them.

Speaking of healing constants.

“Sure,” Ford says, and can’t help the warmth spilling through his tone. They pull their chairs up on either side of him, and curl up to enjoy the warm breeze. Dipper places his hat on his lap to let the wind blow through his hair, and Mabel stretches her arms out behind her head to act as her own pillow. Ford chuckles silently at the pair, and closes his eyes to let himself relax.

All is quiet when Stan finally finds them a spot out on the open water without a single other boat in sight. The water is nearly still, save for the occasional small wave that gently sways the boat. The sun is at its afternoon high, turning the water beautiful shades of teal and aqua. Fishing is tedious, but it’s careful work, and gives Ford something to put all of his focus into. Two whole hours pass before any of them catch a thing, and Stan laughs himself to tears when it’s Dipper who pulls up a single sardine. 

Typically Ford prefers much more immersive activities, but right now there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. The sun is starting to set before they realize they aren’t going to have much luck catching anything, and instead decide to take the boat for another ride around the harbor to look for a better place to eventually watch the stars. 

“...Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper approaches him shyly once they’ve anchored the boat.

“Yes?”

He tugs shyly at the edge of his sweater. “I…” he starts. “I know you’ve told me that the multiverse was dangerous, and all, but...was there ever anything you enjoyed about it?” He pauses. “What were the sunsets like?”

Ford chuckles, patting at the seat beside him, and Dipper’s eyes light up as he sits down.

“You’re right,” Ford starts, folding his hands together. “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on even my worst enemies, Dipper. It was practically impossible to get any decent amount of sleep and even harder to find food digestible by human kind. I lost some of my best years to the multiverse when I could’ve gone on to become the most renowned scientist in the world.” Ford turns his gaze away from the sun setting on the horizon to meet Dipper’s eyes, but he’s frowning, eyes cast downwards towards the deck of the ship.

“But,” Ford adds before the poor kid can get too lost in his own head, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It definitely had its perks.” He smiles. “The sun in Dimension 18.2 would emit a sound that mimicked a lullaby every night as it set. Dimension 47’23 had three moons that would shift phases before your very eyes. I haven’t told Mabel because I’m afraid she’ll try activating a portal of her own and run away, but in Dimension 25-12, everyone and everything looks like a watercolor painting. There’s danger in the multiverse, but there’s beauty in equal measure”

“Do you ever miss it?” Dipper fiddles with his hands, like he’s trying real hard not to say the wrong thing. “I mean, I know you don’t miss being lost, or having no idea if you’re ever going to see home again, but...is there any dimension...where you could’ve seen yourself staying, if you thought you couldn’t make it back?” 

Ford shifts in his chair so he doesn’t have to twist his neck so much to look directly at his nephew. “Occasionally,” he muses. “I met the most friendly faces in Dimension 52, so my mind does tend to wander there from time to time” he smiles. “But rest assured, there is something in this dimension that makes it my favorite”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper’s eyes light up. “Over every other dimension you’ve passed through? What is it?”

Ford gently nudges Dipper’s shoulder. “You and your sister”

Dipper’s cheeks turn bright red, and he looks as though he’s struggling not to bury his face into the collar of his sweater and disappear. “Really?” his voice squeaks.

Ford nods. “Everything I had in those other dimensions were fleeting, Dipper. At a moment’s notice everything I grew to love could disappear in the blink of an eye. The very thing happened to me in Dimension 52. When I fell asleep, I woke up in a new dimension I didn’t recognize. Things may have been more advanced, and there may have been dimensions crafted to give you your greatest desires, but in the end nothing ever lasted.” 

Now it’s Ford’s turn to divert Dipper’s eyes, gaze casting towards the floor. “Stan was cut from my life completely in the dimension that claimed to be a perfect world. I had nobody. Even in dimensions that actively worked towards my happiness, I was all alone” Ford shakes his head, and turns his gaze once more out on the horizon. The sun is still touching the horizon, but it’s dipped just low enough that some of the stars are beginning to show in the sky. 

“But...here, at home, everything is consistent. I don’t have to worry about waking up in the morning to find that everyone I love is gone. I can keep everyone in arm’s lengths, even when Stan and I can only communicate with you and your sister over a video call. I’m…” Ford gently squeezes his hands to reassure himself that this is real and now. “...happy. Happier than I’ve been in decades” 

Beside him, Dipper yawns, and when Ford spares a glance over at him he’s smiling at him sleepily.  “We’re really happy you’re here too, Grunkle Ford” he murmurs, and his eyes slip closed. Ford’s cheeks flush pink, and he has to choke back a laugh because that’s one of the first times Dipper’s felt comfortable enough to call him Grunkle. 

Ford stands, so as not to wake Dipper from his nap. A small glance to his right and he catches a glimpse of Stan and Mabel leaning against the side of the boat watching the sunset just outside of earshot of his current conversation with Dipper.

“You finally bore him to sleep with all your nerdy science talk?” Stan asks as he approaches, sparing a glance behind him at Dipper. “Was starting to think that the poor kid would never get a nap in” 

“Yes, well,” Ford smirks. “I’m sure it helped plenty that you bored him to death by taking him fishing first”

Stan gasps in mock offense, and slugs him in the shoulder. “Hey, at least I’m engaging them in something they can actually interact with, unlike your kooky alien stories, or whatever”

Ford can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Bold statement coming from the man who dedicated thirty years of his life rescuing me from said kooky aliens” he says, returning with a punch of his own. Stan opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing to say, and closes his mouth. The sight of it makes Ford laugh even harder, keeling over and slapping a hand on Stan’s shoulder to support himself. It must be contagious, because it’s not long before Stan is laughing too.

Ford removes his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, and cleans off the lenses with the edge of his sweater. Once his eyes adjust after he puts them back on, his throat nearly catches in his throat when he glances back out towards the water. He’s just able to catch a shooting star before it disappears over the horizon, and the boat’s just far out enough on the water that there isn’t an ounce of light pollution obscuring the rest of the stars in the sky.  He takes a few steps back so he can look up and admire more of them at once, and if he looks close enough he can see them twinkling. 

Before he can ask the others if they’re seeing the same thing, a bright flash of light coming from somewhere on the boat cuts into his thoughts. He turns, to make sure that none of the lights in any of the rooms are on, but no, they’d turned those off when they’d started fishing. Scratching at his head, he turns to Stan and Mabel to ask if they have any idea where the light is coming from, but that question catches in its throat as quickly as it formulated.

They’re the ones emitting light.

Or, rather, Mabel’s sweater and Stan’s shoulder, approximately where his burn scar should be. Those are emitting light. 

...Surely it must just be the reflection of the starlight on the water, right? That same bright light must have woken Dipper from his nap, yes? 

He turns heel to ask Dipper the same question, but freezes in his tracks before he can take a single step forward. Dipper’s forehead is glowing too, the same way it has since he and Stan docked the boat this morning. 

It...It can’t be, can it?

Gripping his forehead, Ford takes a number of steps backwards until his back hits the wall. Maybe...maybe he just needs to call it a night. He’s been awake since sunrise, maybe his vision is just blurring because he needs to lie down? 

He waves his hands in front of his face, but no, those don’t look any different. He squints, to make sure his hands aren’t shaking, but no, they’re perfectly still.

He squints at Stan and Mabel, just to try and see if his eyes are watering, and-

He gasps. 

Mabel’s sweater, Dipper’s forehead, Stan’s shoulder; they’re not glowing; they’re twinkling like the stars. It was hard to tell in broad daylight, but now that they’re surrounded by a thousand shining stars, the resemblance is unmistakable. 

But...that’s not possible. If he can see them twinkling, but none of them have said anything about it, that could only be if those were…

...soulmarks. 

Ford suddenly feels like he’s going to pass out. 

He slides to the floor.

Is...Is that even possible? Ford thought for sure that study he read years ago was nothing but a joke. Someone...who does everything in their power to bring you two together, no matter the cost? Someone who, even though you may not meet for decades, will feel as though you’ve known each other their entire lives? Someone who will do anything for you, no matter the personal expense?

Someone...someone like Stan, who spent a painstaking thirty years teaching himself quantum physics to rescue someone that anyone else would assume dead? The man who sacrificed his very mind, his very life, so he could be spared physical torture?

Or...someone like Mabel, the first friendly face he saw after emerging from the portal? The one who forgave him so easily after he tried to separate her from her brother? The one who insists on calling him a good person, despite all of those he knows he hurt? 

Or...Dipper? His kindred spirit in all things supernatural? The one who, alongside his sister, sacrificed himself as bait for the most dangerous being in the entire multiverse? Who saw memories of him at his very worst, and apologized to him for snooping?

After everything he’s been through...could things really work out that well in his favor? To not have one soulmate but three, and the guarantee that they’ll never leave, because they’ve already expressed how they love him so? 

There’s a tear streaming down his cheek at the thought, but he’s too distracted by a fourth light suddenly emitting from...himself to really notice.

He spares a cautious glance downward, and notices a pulsing light emerging from his chest in perfect time with his heartbeat. If he looks closely, he notices that the light travels down his arms and ties itself into a translucent bow around his fingers. If he looks closer still, the light looks as though it’s slinking faintly across the deck of the boat and reaching towards the gentle twinkling of Stan and Mabel’s marks.

Ford places a hand to his forehead, throws his head back, and laughs his throat dry, paying no mind to the tears pouring down his face.

[chat-noir-always-here]

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is 

actively 

trying

to kill you?!

 Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold! 

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous. 

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends. 

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.” 

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see. 

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage. 

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

 Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid. 

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids. 

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him. 

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality                   vs.          Surface Personality

 I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into. 

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien. 

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

 Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

 Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time. 

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time. 

 In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series. 

 But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

 And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity? 

Clinginess. 

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that. 

 What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

 It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed. 

 The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

 He treats his friends better.

 He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE. 

WORST.

 PARENT.

 EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

 Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s. 

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning. 

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that. 

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying. 

 But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight. 

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

 The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

 The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do. 

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

 Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.” 

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story. 

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is. 

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks. 

 But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes. 

 I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette? 

;)

[vannahfanfics]

Riveting Life Experiences

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: One Piece

Characters: Nami, Vivi Nefertari

Additional Tags: Modern AU, High School AU

Hey, everyone! This story was originally going to be for the One Piece School Zine, but unfortunately it could not be completed due to the pandemic. Still, I thought I would post it for everyone to enjoy!

“Thank you! Enjoy the rest of the festival!” Vivi called gleefully as their latest customer departed, snacking animatedly on the creamy chocolate-covered banana they had just purchased from her and Nami’s booth. Their chocolate-covered banana stand nestled in the junction of the east and west halls and overlooked the stairs leading down to the main rotunda. Nami, fundraiser extraordinaire, had snagged the spot to ensure maximum foot traffic. Vivi suspected that some arm-twisting and potentially frightening threats had been involved, but hey, they’d already made tons of money! Vivi wasn’t about to complain. 

Nami snickered devilishly as she leafed through the stack of cash they’d already accumulated in their first two hours of opening. 

“Nami,” Vivi laughed with cinched eyebrows, “you know you can’t keep that money, right? All the proceeds are going toward our oceanography club!” As Vivi playfully chided her best friend, the redhead flashed her a sardonic smirk. 

“Considering I am the president of the Oceanography Club, the money does technically go to me,” she corrected, now fanning herself with the fat stack of bills. “So, I am going to enjoy this, Vivi, dear.” Vivi could not help but chuckle at Nami’s affluent and opulent attitude. 

“All right, Miss President,” Vivi conceded amusedly. The blunette returned her gaze to the front of their booth, where rich chocolate-coated peeled bananas stood in plastic trays that Vivi had adorned in fun stickers to enhance the appeal. Above the colorful flowers and rainbows and a very tasteful unicorn, the candied bananas perched in all their splendor. Some of them simply sported the enamel-like hard chocolate shell, while others flaunted crushed nuts, sprinkles, marshmallow chunks, or swirls of peanut butter. Vivi’s mouth watered as she admired them. 

“Excuse me! I’d like two chocolate bananas, please!” 

Vivi jolted as she was suddenly addressed. It took her a moment to regain her bearings, so her hands fluttered uselessly across the counter while her mouth opened and shut uselessly. The girl before the stand blinked curiously at Vivi’s odd behavior, stroking a swathe of her voluminous wavy black hair. 

“That one, please,” the girl quipped simply with a point of a manicured nail at a peanut butter swirl banana. “Two,” she reminded as Vivi went to pluck one from the display. Cheeks burning, Vivi quickly did as told. 

“That’ll be five hundred Berries, please.” The girl held the two bananas by the sticks between her middle and third fingers while she fished some bills out of her uniform pocket. Vivi’s fingers quivered slightly as she took the money from the girl, who thanked her cheerfully before skipping over to a lanky, tan-skinned, dark-haired man with golden eyes lounging by one of the windows and looking totally unimpressed by the school festival. 

“Law! Law! I got us some chocolate-covered bananas.” 

“Baby 5, I didn’t want— ugh, no, don’t cry— fiiiiine…” 

Vivi continued to stand there with carnation-pink cheeks. I can’t believe I was fantasizing what they’d taste like! she thought ashamedly. Her focus should be on making their booth a great success, not consuming the merchandise. However, even as she chastised herself, Vivi’s eyes drifted back down to the scrumptious-looking treats. 

“So, Vivi,” Nami asked suddenly. Her slightly inquisitive tone jerked Vivi’s eyes away from the candy-coated bananas. Nami still fanned herself nonchalantly with the wad of cash. “What made you choose chocolate-covered bananas, of all things?” 

Vivi’s face immediately alighted with a self-conscious blush again. As she shied away from her friend’s inquisitive stare, Vivi worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She began to swing her body slowly from side to side, eyes flickering from the fruity treats to the redhead’s puzzled expression. Nami’s eyes darted up and down her form, analyzing her body language, but she waited for Vivi to speak instead of prodding her into further fluster. 

“You promise that you won’t laugh?” 

“Why would I laugh? Surely your reason for picking chocolate-covered bananas isn’t a knee-slapper,” Nami frowned with a raised eyebrow. Vivi’s cheeks brightened to a lovely shade of rose pink, prompting her to press her palms against her face. They immediately began to sweat from the sheer amount of heat rolling off her skin. 

“Well, I… Before moving here to Japan, I researched popular trends and events, and happened upon information concerning popular snacks sold at booths like these…” She trailed off as an uncomfortable wave of nervous nausea blossomed in her belly. Nami’s orange eyebrow crept higher and higher up her forehead as she began to stare at Vivi, nonplussed. 

“And…?” 

“One of them was chocolate-covered bananas.” 

Silence settled between them. Vivi squirmed under Nami’s persistent blank stare. She desperately wished that some emotion would show on Nami’s face— confusion, derision, amusement— anything. Instead, her face was a blank slate, her chocolate-brown eyes owlishly wide as the gears turned in her head. 

Finally, a smile cracked the vacantness of Nami’s ogle. 

“Vivi, why would you think I would laugh at that? That’s adorable!” the redhead squealed and lunged forward to wrap her arms loosely around Vivi’s shoulders. Vivi blushed brightly, both at her statement and the sudden half-embrace. 

“R-really?” Vivi squeaked, grabbing Nami’s forearms. Nami flashed her a friendly smile, which caused the little bubbles of anxiety in Vivi’s body to burst one by one. “Thanks… I just thought it was so silly,” she confessed with a light laugh. 

“Aw, Vivi,” Nami smiled sweetly. “I don’t think it’s silly at all. You were excited to come to a new place and learn about all the local cultures. I think that’s really cool, actually.” 

“You really think so?” Vivi asked doubtfully. Nami’s smile widened, and she raised a hand to boop her gently on the tip of her nose. Vivi snickered at the intimate gesture. 

“Yeah! So… Have you ever had a chocolate-covered banana?” Nami asked with a raised eyebrow. When Vivi shook her head, Nami slipped her arms from around Vivi’s to pluck two of the delectable banana treats from the display case. Vivi blushed as Nami presented the fruit on a stick to her. “Go on! Take it!” the redhead insisted, reading Vivi’s unsure expression. “We’ve made plenty of money today; I won’t miss the revenue from a couple of bananas,” she laughed when Vivi’s eyebrows knitted further. 

Reluctantly, Vivi took the chocolate-covered banana. She turned the wooden skewer slightly between her thumb and forefinger to inspect the treat from all angles. It was one of the marshmallow-coated ones; the soft, cylindrical structures protruded from the coat of brown candy as rocks rose from cresting waves. After a moment of considering it, she timidly leaned forward to bite off the end of the banana. She immediately released a satisfied hum. 

The milk chocolate melted as soon as it hit her tongue, spreading the rich, decadent flavor over her taste buds. The mute sweetness of the banana complimented it supremely, and the pillowy sweetness of the marshmallows perfected the harmony of flavors. Vivi couldn’t help immediately diving in for another bite before she’d even swallowed the first, eyes fluttering shut. Her lashes immediately parted again when she heard Nami chuckle. 

“It’s good, huh?” the girl said as she bit into her own banana, one with rainbow sprinkles adorning its chocolate shell. Nami released a similar hum of gratification. “Delicious! I knew I had a stroke of genius for me to ask Sanji to prepare these.” 

“I bet it didn’t take much convincing, either, considering you have him wrapped around your finger,” Vivi teased, sticking out the tip of her tongue with a playful wink. Nami smirked triumphantly. 

“Hehe, well, he is particularly susceptible to my feminine wiles,” Vivi’s counterpart snickered cheekily. As if summoned, Sanji’s voice came floating down the hallway, rising above the din of pleasant conversation and contented laughter. 

“Nami-swaaaaaaan~! Viviiiiiiiiiiii!” 

Both of the girls turned to see the blond charging through the crowd, hearts beating in his eyes and trills flying from his mouth as he zoomed from the other end of the school building. Nami leaned on the counter, resting her cheek on her hand and preparing a demure smile. Vivi rolled her eyes; Nami was preparing to swindle Sanji out of several bananas’ worth of his restaurant wages. 

Nami was the queen of the hustle, after all— but of course, Vivi was her back-up, so she too draped herself over the edge of their booth to seductively chomp on the chocolate-covered banana. She smirked as Sanji nearly fainted on the spot from the two girls smiling so charmingly at him. Though they’d only just begun, Vivi checked a successful school festival off her list of riveting life experiences. Oh, and trying chocolate-covered bananas, too.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[rgrettes]

heyy, I hope I'm not bothering but I've seen that you used to post about faberry and faberry fics like Shafd, and since I'm trying to find some faberry fanfics to read, could you please recommend me some of your favorites? Thank you :)

OKAY so this took me a whole lot longer than anticipated because I didn’t want to make it be like 500 fics long! But here, in no particular order, are my top 10 faberry fanfics! [excluding SHAfD of course bc whomever asked this definitely knows SHAfD!]I will be including trigger warnings/content warnings! Please be sure that you can handle the subjects before reading the content! Be safe and put your mental and physical wellbeing before a work of fiction!

10. Dirty Little Secret by patchesofink

Chapters: 77/77 [208k]

This fic would actually happen to be the first faberry fic that I ever read. I felt my little 15 year old self cry several times throughout this fic. It’s what first got me into writing fanfic, because I wanted to write as well as this author! There is a content warning so please be careful reading it if you are sensitive to topics mentioned!

Rachel has a secret and Quinn has figured it out - but will Quinn use this knowledge to exact revenge on Rachel for telling Finn that Puck was really the father or will she use her own experiences to help. WARNING - language and sexual content, r*pe.

9. I’ll Be by stix04

Chapters: 20/20 [330k]

God I was such a sucker for fake dating au’s as a young teenager and I’m most definitely a sucker for them now. This one I didn’t read right when it came out, I didn’t actually find it until it had finished but it still makes my top 20 because it’s just too good not to talk about!

Can Quinn pretend to be in love with Rachel just to get out of Lima? Can Rachel pretend to love Quinn so she's not so lonely in New York? And what happens when both girls realize they're no longer pretending?

8. Long Way to Happy by patchesofink 

Chapters: 42/42 [104k]

This is the sequel to Dirty Little Secret and makes the list for being just as good as the original. This author is so talented and the story just resonates in my soul! 

warnings for sexual content, language, violence and potential ptsd triggers!

Sequel to Dirty Little Secret. Rachel still has some healing to do as well with dealing with becoming a mom. Quinn has her own issues to deal with. Can their fledgling relationship deal with the ups and downs of life and cope with senior year? Quinn learns to open up and Rachel deals with motherhood and not letting her past define her. It's a Long Way to Happy.

7. Leather Jackets and Bad Coffee by antonius

Chapters: 11/?? [75k] [has not updated since 2018 :(]

Bikers, 50′s style diners, and good girl/bad girl pairing. Literally who could ask for anything more? I’m super sad this one hasn’t updated in a long time but it’s still such a fun read!!

warning for violence!

Ninety miles and nearly two hours from the heart of New York City, just off of PA-33 North, is the little town of Belfast, Pennsylvania: population 1,257. Right outside the city limits sits Moe's, a small 24-hour diner whose newest waitress, Rachel Berry, has taken her best friend Kurt's advice and started a calm summer temp job away from the hustle-and-bustle of busy city life in order to rest up before her final year at NYADA.During her very first midnight shift, she encounters a group of rowdy regulars led by a pink-haired woman with piercing hazel eyes. Quinn Fabray is the leader of the Skanks, a small but well-known local biker gang that doesn't take shit from anyone.So began the strangest summer of Rachel Berry's life.

6. Talk by saintdyke

Chapters: 17/? [43k] [last updated may 2019]

This is another one I’m sad hasn’t updated in a while! This honestly stole my heart to a point that in the time I found it in mid April 2019 and June of 2019 I have re-visited the fic 105 times, rereading it at least half as many as that. I’m really hoping the author comes back to the fic, because it was keeping me on the edge of my seat.

warning for violence, abuse mentions and depictions, homophobia and ptsd triggers!

(Previously titled Grease Stains, Starry Skies) Famous actress Rachel Berry’s car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. A pretty blonde with a blue truck rescues her from the side of the road, and just so happens to own an Auto Repair shop in town. Quinn is frustrating and mysterious, and Rachel is just as stubborn. Together, they start a revolution.

5. Just off the Key of Reason by iamapanda

Chapters: 30/30 [129k]

This one is another absolute classic in the Faberry fandom, and is another fic that has stuck with me throughout the years! It has a fantastic softer take on Quinn that I truly appreciated because everyone back in the early years of the fandom would make her so angry and bitter and she’s just so soft in some interpretations

Rachel Berry is a successful Broadway star with a new roommate, the very odd, naive Quinn Fabray. It starts with a note on the fridge and a childishly scrawled doodle of an elephant. Everybody has a little crazy in them.

4. Still off the Key of Reason by iamapanda

Chapters: 37/37 [185k]

The sequel to Just off the Key of Reason! Still as soft and as crazy! I can’t mention one without having the other in the list as well! I can’t explain how it feels to look at the ff.net pages after so long, my heart is transported back to 2011 and I’m sitting on my bed after I’m supposed to be in bed. I miss the days where I could just spend time reading these fics and not having adult responsibilities.

Quinn is thundering her way through vet school. Rachel is enlightening the west coast with her talent. The story continues with a wedding, dogs in tuxedos, and Pooh Bear vows. Crazy never fades.

3. A Million Miles of Fun by Jade8Devlin

Chapters: 12/12 [103k]

This one is a little different from the last ones! It isn’t my favorite because of its literary genius, but because of how fun and out there it is! It’s concept is fresh and dark and something I honestly didn’t expect to see but it quickly grew to be a favorite for me!

warning for violence, abuse, mentions of murder! the whole story revolves around The Unholy Trinity + Rachel murdering Quinn’s family so please take that into consideration!

And in Lima, Ohio, a man and woman were killed earlier today during what is believed to be a home invasion. Russell Fabray was last seen leaving Gas'N'Go at two o'clock; his wife, Judith, from a grocery story an hour earlier. Police are linking the double homicide to the area's recent surge in breaking and entering – though these appear to be the first fatalities. The victims are survived by their daughters; Quinn and Stacey."Jessalyn Briggs shuffles the papers on her desk, clearing her throat. The somber expression on her face seems to float off her as she turns towards camera 3."Otis-the-Otter finishes today's news headlines as the little critter that could. Abandoned by his mother and found foraging for scraps in the Nelson family's garbage cans, Otis has proven; if you can't teach an old dog new tricks, teach them to an otter! Otis placed second at this year's Ohio Dog Show after last year's well-documented struggle by the Nelson family to allow Otis to be included. Well done Otis, we here at Channel 43 salute you.

2. The Silence of Silence by your.kat

Chapters: 31/31 [135k]

This one... I can’t describe why I liked it, I just liked it.

warning for mental health, and trauma [possible others, please read with caution]

Quinn and Rachel meet at Haverbrook under unusual circumstances. Why is Rachel silent? And why does Quinn care? "You can hear," Quinn said simply, "but can you speak?"; "Yes," Rachel signed. "I can speak. But silence is a friend who will never betray."

1. Kissing Quinn Fabray by vondrunkaton

Chapters: 6/6 [45k]

This one just makes me super warm and fuzzy inside. I don’t think I can say it’s entirely changed my life but it’s just so soft and i love it

Quinn comforts Rachel after Finn says something oafish. Rachel is surprised by how sweet Quinn is. There's also some making out in delicious detail. Fluffy getting together fic.

I am super open to talking about more fics I love/like and other pairings! This was a ton of fun to talk about and sent me down memory lane! I went searching for two hours on a vague memory of a fic that I think has been deleted by now. But if anyone wants to help me track it down! Hit me up and I’ll give you the details!

[randomguywithwords]

Catharsis (Awase Yosetsu X Momo Yaoyorozu Short Story)

I stumbled onto some post talking about these two and their shared trauma, so I made this in response. Kinda forgot who it was but credit goes to him/her for the idea. 

–––

Awase Yosetsu sometimes wondered whether he was alone. Not literally, obviously: he had friends, family, and a school he felt he belonged to. More so, alone in his mind. Were his life experiences, and the way he reacted to them, unique? Has no one else suffered the same trauma he had? 

Logic dictated that the answer was a clear no. The Kamino Incident, more than a week ago, had been far more tragic than what he had went through. Hundreds of civillians, unaware of a police raid just a few kilometers down the road, had their lives taken away in a mere instant. He had been horrified to find out about that.

Still, as he lay awake at night staring at the ceiling of his dormitory, something he found doing more and more since the camp, he thought, Is it selfish of me to think that...that...was worse? 

He suppressed a shudder. Don’t think about it, he warned himself, forcing his mind away and to lighter subjects, like lunch today, where Monoma was karate-chopped by Kendo again, and everyone started laughing...

The whirring of the chainsaw grew louder; the wail of that abomination pierced his ears. He was getting slower. They were getting ––

“Stop!” He slapped himself, curling up underneath his blanket. He still could not forget it, no matter how hard he tried. 

Maybe I should schedule an appointment with Hound Dog...

No, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t...proper, for him to go for counselling. The school had offered it immediately after the disaster that was the camp, and he had taken one just to placate them. He went through the motions, nodding, talking a bit, smiling while he could. Perhaps the adrenaline somehow still kicked in, days after it. He might have still been in a shock then. But now...

The memories started to come back now to haunt him, to make him lose sleep, to make him unsettled. And it worked. 

So was he alone in this, or were the others equally affected? Worse? Less? 

Granted, the mood in the school was dim for the first few days, but the majority of the cohort seemed to return to their normalcy by the first week. But he...he could not. 

His thoughts drifted towards Yaoyorozu. Even though she had received the injury from that monster, she seemed to be faring better than him. From the few times they passed each other in the hallway, or at the canteen, she looked as chirpy as ever. She smiled at everyone, laughed at her friends’ jokes, and seemed totally unaffected by the incident. He presumed her studies had not taken a hit whatsoever. Still the top scorer of the cohort.

Great, guess I’ll be late again tomorrow, he sighed inwardly as he glanced at his watch, informing him that it was half past eleven.

He sat up and sunk his face into his hands. Maybe I should take a walk. 

Grabbing his shoes and track pants, he found himself at the ground floor of his dorms. Thanking the reasonable dorm rules that allowed for late-night jogs, he stepped out of the building. 

As he shut the door behind him, he turned around, and his face blanched. 

Yaoyorozu’s face stared back at him. She was in a running outfit as well. Her surprised disposition transformed into a smile. She waved, and Awase meekly waved back. 

Figuring that she was probably waiting for him, he quickened his pace to meet her in the middle of the road. 

“Yaoyorozu-san, hi. Didn’t expect to see you.” He mustered a smile.

“Same here, Yosetsu-san. I jog every night, so it’s the first time I’ve seen you this late. Are you jogging as well?” 

“Uh no, just taking a walk.”

“Sure! I’m fine with that too.”

Awase frantically waved his hands. “Oh, you really don’t have to...”

Her lips widened into a smile like the crescent moon above them. “No, but it’s fun to have someone to talk to. I’d prefer this than jogging alone.” 

Was she always this friendly and bubbly to everyone? Awase was astounded by her amiability. But he gave an affirming nod, and the two set off down the lane. 

They first chatted about schoolwork and friends, about the antics of the guys, which Yaoyorozu laughed at, charmingly. But Awase knew that the conversation would somehow lead to their near-death experience. To his surprise, it was Yaoyorozu who initiated it. 

“How are you holding up?” She asked. “After the camp, I mean.” 

Awase looked at the asphalt. “Good, I guess,” He replied evasively. “You?”

“Same, doing great.” Awase looked at her beaming expression, and his heart plummeted. She looks totally okay.

“Well,” she continued, “as great as I can be, since, y’know...” Her voice softened to a mouse’s squeak. “We were both there.”

The thought of the monster loomed over both of them, silencing the conversation for a moment. He glanced at her again. Her smile seemed less curved now, almost as if she was scared.

Of course she’s scared, idiot. She nearly died too, Awase scolded himself. 

“I...can’t sleep. It’s been difficult to,” He confessed towards the pavement. 

Yaoyorozu didn’t reply, and Awase was beginning to wonder if he had said it too softly when she said, “You too? That’s good.”

Awase looked at her, and her face reddened, though with the faint lamplight it was hard to see. “I mean, I don’t mean it that way! Just –” 

“I know, Yaoyorozu-san, don’t worry.” He chuckled, and she relaxed. Continuing, “I’m glad too. You looked...you looked really well in school.”

“Well, so did you. You looked quite happy with your friends, I thought you had gotten over it,” She said.

Me? Was there another Awase walking around? She really thought I was coping well?

“I – I’m surprised you thought that way,” He managed. “It’s been a horrible few weeks. I thought it might have showed.”

She shook her head adamantly. “Have you visited Hound Dog-sensei, Yosetsu-san?” She asked with evident concern. 

“Just once.”

Yaoyorozu frowned. “That’s not enough. I had to go at least thrice. Why don’t you?” 

“Because...” Awase trailed off. How do you explain this to a girl? 

He doubted the intelligence of Momo Yaoyorozu, because she read his mind. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Bakugo-san went for a session too, you know.”

His jaw dropped. “Bakugo? But how...?”

She nodded. “We’re good friends, so please don’t tell anyone else. I only did so because there’s nothing wrong with a guy going for counselling, okay? As heroes, we’re bound to experience such things. Ah, sorry if I sound naggy!”

“No, it’s okay. I...I needed to hear that. Thank you, Yaoyorozu-san.”

“No problem.” 

They enjoyed a comfortable silence on the walk back. When they saw their dormitories close by, Yaoyorozu said, “Yosetsu-san? Can I give you my number?”

“Huh?” The question made him blink at her. 

“I’d like someone to talk to, if I want to. I know my classmates went through trauma of their own, but nothing really could compare to what we faced...I feel that they wouldn’t understand fully.”

Awase nods slowly. “Sure.” 

Some tapping on a screen later, and the two depart with a goodbye and a smile. Awase clambers onto his bed, and although the nightmarish thoughts don’t disappear as one would expect in a fantasy, he does sleep a little more sounder. That’s fine by him. 

I had more to talk about for these two, but as two schoolmates who just shared a near-death experience, opening their innermost thoughts on that basis with no prior meetings seems a bit rushed. Hope you liked it, and if anyone knows the person who started this, lemme know and I’ll credit them. 

P.S: Oh wait this ship is popular enough to be an autofilled tag? Well, I’ll be damned. I doubted you again, BNHA fandom. 

P.P.S wtf there’s a kodai x yaoyorozu? I thought I was the only madlad that wrote a fanfic on that. That’s 3 for fandom, 0 for me. Brb gonna AO3 this. If anyone has good fics on that niche ship, pls tell me. I’ll be very grateful

Update on kodai x yaoyorozu. I was swindled. There’s like one post apparently, even though I freaking tagged the fic I wrote on them, and it didn’t show up. So now I’m wondering how many jewels of posts are just concealed because of Tumblr’s shitty search engine. 

[incorrect-magisterium-quotes]

So, I’m gonna be treading old grounds here. I was INSANELY obsessed with the Magisterium years ago when I was in middle school, but then I rage-dropped it halfway through the 4th book and since have tried to forget any of this and bury it in the dark recesses of my brain. So I just wanna ask- is this fandom still active? Does this series exist? Did it ever exist? What in the hell was The Silver Mask? I am so confused, but there is a part of me that wants to get back into this series.

It’s alive! It’s small, half beaten to death by a spiked two-by-four, but alive! Mainly we’re active on @nonbinary-androids discord (come say hi) and there are still people who post.

To name a few blogs (if you’re interested): @nonbinary-androids, @yuutin, @gray-mark (that’s me), @zombiefied-detective, @blackjack-s-wings, and @obsessiveslenderverse. (That’s not nearly all of them, I’m just going off the recent posts in the tag; if you scroll through some more you’ll find the others). Lee also made the @magisterium-network for events and stuff!

As for The Silver Mask...yeah that was a blunder. The Golden Tower is even worse. You can read em if you want, if crack fics are your thing. That’s generally what they are.

But don’t take that as a warning away from the fandom. My philosophy is that the last two books weren’t canon and we just look at the first three, but there are a few aspects of them that are funny and you might enjoy. We may be a feral book club, but this is still the best community I’ve been apart of in all of my experience on tumblr. I genuinely love these people a lot

Maybe you only read the first three books, that’s totally cool! Maybe you want to rant about the stupid ending of the series, that works too! Quite honestly everyone here is in the same boat as you, so I say give the fandom another chance even if you have no idea what kind of fever-induced dream TSM and TGT are, we’d be glad to have you!

[sailorportia]

Femslash February 2020, Day 1

Fandom: Revue Starlight Relive Pairing: Tomoe Tamao/Akikaze Rui Prompt: Meet Cute

approx. 1,800 words, rated T

also available on AO3

Summary:   Thirteen year-old Akikaze Rui finds a way to change her shy demeanor in her middle school's drama club. More importantly, she wants to perform on the same stage as that gorgeous senpai. All she needs to do is work up the courage to apply...

Tags: Meet Cute, Comedy, Puppy Love, middle school!Rui, middle school!Tamao

Akikaze Rui, thirteen years-old, didn't know what to expect from her school play. It was the day of her middle school's cultural festival, and she had been wandering from attraction to attraction until her curiosity led her to the auditorium. Little did she know that her life was about to be turned upside-down. 

The actors were average at best. It was a middle school play, after all. But there was one standout performer, a shining star against a night sky of amateurs: a girl with long, dark hair.

She played the role of a princess, her character beginning the play as a regal and refined woman who is pushed into taking up the sword and becoming a fierce and formidable warrior. The actress's transformation was incredible. Rui wouldn't have believed such a dainty girl capable of such ferocious yells and impassioned speeches. It was inspiring, to say the least.

Up until now, Rui had been a leading member of the Going Home Club. She was too shy to join any social group she didn't have to, and her only extracurricular interest was kendo, but she was already enrolled at a dojo and had surpassed what most middle school students were capable of. After seeing this play—more importantly, its starring actress—Rui was inspired to try acting. She wanted to change herself, and she might be able to do so through the medium of acting. She had to join the drama club.

Rui knew she had to strike while the iron was hot. There was a chance that if she waited, the fire burning in her chest might die down and she would give into her shy nature. It had to be now.

As the other students filed out of the auditorium, Rui snuck backstage. It wasn't until she was hiding behind a prop tree that she realized she didn't have a plan. She peeked out behind the tree periodically in search of her new idol, her determination waning with every passing second. Maybe she should just leave and go to the drama club sometime later...

She stepped out from around the prop tree just in time for another girl to come out from behind the stage. Rui recognized her immediately as the actress who had turned her world upside down. The girl was still wearing the princess costume that she had on during the play. It hadn't been apparent at a distance, but now that Rui was up close she could see that this girl was astonishingly pretty. Like, "melt your brain" pretty.

"Oh, I thought everyone left," the girl said. "Are you one of the girls who volunteered to help put away the props?"

"Um, I, uh..." Rui had trouble getting words out of her mouth at the best of times, and talking to a beautiful girl she admired hardly counted as ideal circumstances. The phrase "I want to join the drama club," had seemed so easy to say when she decided to sneak backstage.

The other girl seemed unperturbed by Rui's verbal fumbling. "Could you help me with this zipper?" She turned around, showing Rui the zipper on the back of her dress. "I think it's stuck, and everyone else in the drama club has left already."

"O-okay!" It was easier for Rui to think now that she wasn't looking the gorgeous girl straight in the face. She pulled down on the zipper slowly, careful not to tear the fabric around it; indeed the zipper was stuck, and Rui had to use both hands to try to free it. Her fingers grazed the bare skin of the other girl's back, and she felt the strongest urge to apologize, though she didn't know why. What's going on with me? Rui asked herself. Why am I getting so flustered? We're both girls...

At a later date Rui would recognize this moment as her gay awakening.

The zipper jam finally gave way and the metal teeth parted. Rui pulled the zipper down just far enough to make sure it was fixed, then jumped away. "Um, it's not stuck anymore."

The girl turned around and flashed Rui a smile that turned her insides out. "You're a life-saver," she said. "We haven't met before, have we?" She looked to Rui's uniform. "You must be a first year. I'm Tomoe Tamao. Hopefully in the future I can be a more reliable senpai to you."

Rui struggled to introduce herself, as if she had forgotten her own name. She was rescued by the unlikely appearance of a third year student.

"Ooh, looks like Tamao-chan has a fan!"

Rui's idol, Tamao, frowned. "Senpai, you left me all alone. I had to ask this nice first-year to help me with this faulty zipper."

"Don't complain. Plenty of girls at this school would jump at the chance for a little private attention from her."

"What do you mean?" Tamao asked. "Is she someone famous?"

"You don't know her? That tall glass of water is Akikaze Rui-chan. She's the talk of all the athletic clubs."

Rui blushed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Akikaze-san," Tamao said. "What club are you a member of?"

The third-year chuckled. "Akikaze-chan hasn't joined any clubs. That's why they're crazy about her. She's the tallest first year in the school, and she looks like she's only going to get taller. All the sports teams tried to recruit her at the start of the year, but she turned down all of them."

"Recruit" was a delicate way of putting it. The athletics clubs had practically waged a war over which of them would get to claim Rui. The poor girl had been forced to sneak around the school, dodging her athletic upperclassmen at every turn. For someone with social anxiety, the experience had been terrifying. It was all she could do to stutter out a polite rejection every time one of them found her. Eventually they got the message and left her alone.

"Um, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Rui said to Tamao. "N-not about the sports clubs! I want to join the drama club. Your performance this afternoon really inspired me!" In fact, it was the most moving performance she had seen, but she was afraid of coming on too strong by saying so.

Rui was afraid that her sudden declaration would weird her out, but Tamao's eyes glittered with joy. "That's wonderful!" She took Rui's hands in her own, oblivious to the way her kouhai stilled at the contact. "You can't imagine how glad I am to hear that our play touched somebody that way."

"Jeez, you can't be a respectable senpai if you melt over a little praise," the third year said with a laugh. "Tamao-chan takes her acting seriously. A little too seriously, if you ask me."

Tamao pouted (a sight that nearly knocked Rui off her feet). "You don't take acting seriously enough, senpai."

"Don't let the busybody scare you off, Akikaze-chan. Make sure you fill out an application form." The third year cackled as she walked off. "I can't wait to brag to the other clubs that we snagged their dream member right from under their noses."

"Honestly." Tamao sighed. "I know that she's busy preparing for entrance exams, but she could at least pretend to be diligent about acting. I promise the other members of the drama club aren't like her."

The other members of the drama club could be juvenile yakuza for all Rui cared. She only had eyes for Tamao. "I promise I'll give acting my all," she said, and she meant it. If she could act half as confidently as Tamao, she'd be satisfied. If she could perform alongside Tamao—that would be a dream come true.

"I look forward to taking the stage with you, Akikaze-san. Hopefully you'll have my back in the future as you did today," Tamao added with a chuckle.

Rui's heart skipped a beat at the reminder that she'd undone her senpai's zipper. "Uh, anyway, that senpai said you're really serious about acting. Do you want to be an actress?" For some reason she felt the need to know this near-stranger's life plans.

"Ideally, yes. "I'm going to enrol at Rinmeikan School for Girls, like my mother and grandmother before me. The school has a performance department with a century of tradition."

"I'm going to enrol too!" Rui, in fact, had never given a moment's thought to what high school she would attend. 

Tamao didn't question Rui's declaration, nor her transparent motivation. "I'm glad to hear it. Not enough people these days respect traditional arts." She smiled. "Maybe it was fate that we met today, Akikaze-san."

"Y-you don't need to speak so formally to me, Tomoe-senpai," Rui stuttered. Being referred to so stiffly made her feel odd for some reason. She wanted the two of them to become... closer. "You can call me by my first name. If you want to, I mean."

"Of course, Rui-chan. But if we're going to be friends, you'll have to return the favour." The corner of her mouth turned up into a sly smirk.

Rui blushed. Friends. Yes. That was good. Great. Fantastic. "If you say so, T-Tamao-senpai."

Three Years Later...

"Awwww! Baby Rui was so cute!" Ichie squealed. "She was still taller than her senpai even back then."

During a lunchtime picnic out on the school grounds, Fumi had idly expressed curiosity as to how Rui and Tamao had become friends in middle school. Tamao related her side of the story, embellishing Rui's "gallant rescue" of her from the gnashing teeth of a stuck zipper. She pulled out her cell phone and showed the group a picture of herself and the drama club's newest member, visibly flustered by her senpai's hand on her arm.

"Rui-chan has grown a lot," Tamao said with a smile. "She's changed so much in three years, but she's always been a talented, beautiful young woman."

"Three years, huh?" Fumi looked to Rui with pity.

"Let's see more," Yuyuko said with a devilish grin, no doubt hoping for something she could tease Rui with. She scrolled through Tamao's photos, revealing a seemingly limitless supply of pictures featuring Rui.

"...that's a lot of pictures of Rui," Fumi noted.

"We made a lot of memories together," Tamao said with a smile.

"I don't remember that!" Rui yelped, blushing up a storm. Displayed on Tamao's phone was a selfie that she had taken with Rui's head resting on her shoulder. She appeared to be asleep, and Tamao held a finger to her own lips in a shushing gesture. 

"That's pretty shady, Tamao-senpai," Yuyuko cackled.

"Is it a crime for me to keep pictures of my number one fan?" Tamao's subtle, sly smirk had lost none of its power of Rui.

[shadowsndaisies]

Perfect [s.s]

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: x Stiles Stilinski

WC: 3559

Synopsis: A songfic, based off of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect”.

Warning: it’s cute, very cute and very fluffy.

I found a love for me

Darling just dive right in

And follow my lead

She was five when she moved to Beacon Hills. She moved in across the street from a home with a car that read "Sheriff" parked in the driveway. The people who lived in that home came out later to greet her and her family. She met the Sheriff, Noah, his wife, Claudia, and their son, a boy who preferred to go by Stiles. He seemed quirky even to another five year old, but he had this air of excitement that enticed the young girl like nothing before ever had.

Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet

Stiles Stilinski had limited experiences at the age of 5, yet he knew that the girl who moved in across the street was someone who was meant to be there. Stiles and the girl quickly became inseparable, the most mischievous duo in town, let alone their block. Nobody would know from first glance though, they would see a shy, anxious boy and the most caring little girl that they ever met. She was kind to each person she met, and that was something that stayed with her as she grew up. It was also something that carried the pair, strengthening their bond, and it was a special bond.

I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

When they were nine Stiles told her about his crush on their pretty strawberry blonde classmate, Lydia Martin, and she seemed happy for him. He'd been going through a tough time after losing his mom, but she was always there for him. It was strange because though he had a crush, the person who was in his mind the most was the girl from across the street. And while she may have smiled for him, her insides churned with an unknown feeling. What she did know, was that Stiles was important.

When she turned eleven she entered middle school, with Stiles and Scott, her best friends, by her side. She stuck with them, stuck with Stiles. Countless nights were spent in their households, in their yards. They would sit and watch the stars. Words weren’t always necessary despite how talkative the two could be. They would sit with the other and it was the most comfortable that the two had ever been.

When the girl turned twelve she began to understand why Stiles' crush on Lydia Martin bothered her. That unknown feeling was because she had a crush of her own, on the boy she had befriended years ago, the one who lived across the street.

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

There's no real way to tell when they fell in love, though they realized it many years after the day they met. When they look back the only answer they can provide is that they were kids.  

Their parents always knew they would end up together, that was clear. The small jokes they made, the looks they gave, and the comments that were said. It was in their parent's hearts as it was in their own that they were meant to be together in the end.

I will not give you up this time

They were fifteen when Josh, a boy from their class, asked (y/n) out. And much to her best friends surprise, she agreed. That Friday night she went bowling with Josh, and Stiles couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned but couldn't figure out why. His mind wandered to his best friend and whether or not she was enjoying herself, his hand reaching out to call her multiple times, but retracting at the last second. He found himself looking out his window often, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, it was only when the light went on in the room that belonged to his best friend did he finally fall asleep. After that night his views of the girl began to change because she was all he could think about.

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Time seemed to stop as a few months after her first date, (y/n) found herself at a party. She along with many of her classmates sat around in a circle. Her best friend had been different lately, distant and extra fidgity. When things with Josh didn’t work out she had planned on having him around to distract her and he was, just not in the way she had hoped.

Her eyes, like everyone sitting with her, were glued to the spinning glass bottle located in the middle of their circle. It had landed on her first and now she waiting to see who she would have to kiss. Her breath hitched as the bottle slowed to a stop in front of him. The one person she wanted to kiss and yet was afraid to.

Stiles shared a similar look of nervousness as she leaned towards him. His heart raced as he watched the girl who meant the world to him, approach. His palms were sweating and his fingers tapping at the tiled floor, nerves skyrocketing. But, as her lips touched his, all of his problems seemed to dissipate. His heart seemed to slow and synchronize with hers. In the few seconds that their lips had been connected, their hearts had opened and were visible to the other, more than they ever had before.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

It was the summer before sophomore year when they went camping with a bunch of other kids from school. As it got later and later, more and more kids were turning in. Soon it was just the two of them. They were staring up at the stars the way they always had, together.  There were no labels for what they were. All they knew was how they felt, and god did they feel. It was a full moon and the stars twinkled brightly above them, a small fire blazing off to their right.

They sat there stealing glances at each other, listening to the music coming from the speaker connected to Stiles' phone. As the song changed a smile came to her face as her favorite song began to play. Stiles shot up, nearly tripping over their previously discarded shoes before turning to stand in front of her, his cheeks pink.

"Dance with me," he breathed, holding out his hand.

He knew it was her favorite song, and well, she was his. She was the song he never wanted to forget, the only one he wanted to be stuck in his head. She was full of lyrics that belonged in sonnets, ballads and poems alike. She was beautiful and she was perfect.

The soft smile that graced her lips had Stiles swooning. She grabbed the hand he had offered as he pulled her to stand with him on the slightly damp grass.

When she looked up at him, she smiled again. His hands were a bit clammy and she could feel how fast his heart was racing but she felt like this was where she was meant to be.

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

"You're beautiful, you know that right?" he asked, his voice tight as he made his nervous confession, eyes darting down to her for just a second.

"I'm dancing in sweats and a flannel, Stiles. I have no makeup on and my hair is in the messiest bun," she sighed looking down towards their feet.

His grip tightened, both around her waist and against her hand, forcing her to look into his eyes just to find them staring straight back at her.

"You look perfect," he whispered, barely audible, but she heard him. His words came out so true as if they were the most honest words he had ever spoken.

As she stared into his eyes she saw the very thing she dreamed of, she saw nothing but love. She offered a shy smile as a blush spread up her neck, over her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. No one had ever stared at her the way Stiles did. She decided to rest her head against his chest, bringing them closer than before.

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

When they were sixteen, they were both pulled into the supernatural world, and they depended on the other to keep each other sane. She was also sixteen when her parents got a divorce. Placing more strain on the girl then she'd ever known, more then she knew how to handle. Often times at night these supernatural horrors haunted her dreams, spilling out in the form of tears and frustrated sleepless nights, during the day nobody would know, nobody could. She was human, but they never saw her as fragile, and she didn’t want them to. So, she’d smile, even if it wasn't real, she’d laugh but it was always forced. The only thing she had, was him. Stiles was the most real thing she had. Their love was the only thing holding her together. He was the only one picking up the pieces because he noticed every time another fell. He was the one who put her back together because he needed her just as much as she needed him.

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

It was rare that she slept peacefully. Dreaming dreams, instead of nightmares and terrible memories, but when she did, it was because of him. He'd hold her as exhaustion overtook her body. Play with her hair, rub her hands or draw patterns on any showing skin. He'd just have to be there and she'd be okay. She’d be okay because he had her, and there was no one who made her feel safe, who made her feel at home the way Stiles is. How does the saying go? Home is where the heart is. Stiles was her home, and he was her heart. She had found a place to relax with someone who would protect her with everything he had, someone who she would protect with just as much.

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

Living in Beacon Hills was dangerous, that was obvious. The older they got and the more they saw… it all seemed to pull at each shred of humanity and sanity within them. They had found the only solution; they stuck together, through everything. The losses of people they loved, the attacks, the pain, even the loss of each other. Yet, somehow they always managed to find each other again. They were half of the other’s heart, a lifeline that they needed at all times, a connection so strong, so full of love that it was the only stable thing in their messed up lives.

He shared everything with her, his hopes of going into law enforcement, to be just like his dad. His dreams of the future, the pain of the past, and fears of today. He knew that it all was tentative to change, just like he knew he had her, that he always wanted to have her. The girl he met when he was five. She had been wearing a pretty dress when she moved in across the street with her parents. She had twirled around, running up and down the lawn, a gleeful smile on her lips. He saw her then as he sees her now, the most amazing woman in the world, the strongest one he knew. The girl he knew he wanted to be able to settle down with, to have kids with, and she wanted it too.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

When they were eighteen, Theo Raeken came back into their lives with his terrible plan to rip them all apart. He pulled the pack apart piece by piece, her family, leaving a devastating emptiness. His attempts were fruitful in every aspect except for them. He failed in every attempt when it came to Stiles and (y/n). The love they held for each other was too strong, even for him. Nothing could pull the two of them apart. They were stronger together, and they would win together, just like they always had.

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

He held her hand one night as they watched Star Wars at his house for the millionth time, thoughts racing through his mind. He watched as she would mouth the words to her favorite lines and react to each and every scene. He watched her and he knew that no matter what, they'd be okay because they had each other.

"You know I love you right?" he whispered in her ear, suddenly.

She turned her head to look up at him with a look so full of love, "never doubted it," she smiled softly before pressing her lips to his her hand gripping his and their fingers intangling together.

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

They had just graduated when he asked her, they were with the pack, a small get together before everyone left. Of course, the two of them would both be attending schools in Washington, a mere hour away from the other.

He watched as she hugged Liam and Mason when they gave her graduation gifts and he realized that this was it. His hand dug into his pocket where he grabbed ahold of a velvet box, inside was the ring that had once been on his mother's hand. It seemed so heavy in his pocket, so heavy in his hand, but a look at her and suddenly he had all the strength he needed.

It was a promise, he remembered his mother’s words from that day in the hospital. The day she had slipped it off her hand and into his palm.

"The girl for you will be perfect, and you never know, maybe she's right in front of you," She had said softly as his father stood watching from the door frame of the hospital room. She was right, the girl from him grew up across the street. That girl grew up to be his best friend and the only person in the world who could both take his breath away and give it back.

He opened the box and grabbed the ring before walking over to her. He tapped her shoulder and sunk down on one knee, the ring visible in his hands. Everyone quieted, staring at the couple. Eyes watered, gasps were heard but not from her.

"Yes," she said instantly, there was no hesitation, no fear, just love.

“I didn’t even ask,” he gave an awkward chuckle as he stared into her eyes.

“You don’t have to,” she promised, the most contagious smile breaking out across her face. Her eyes were misty as she stared at him because this was what she wanted. This was all she had ever wanted, he was, and he always would be.

Everyone knew she was right, that he didn’t have to ask. Because they all knew that her answer would always be yes. Whether it was today, tomorrow or four years from now, her answer would always be yes.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Cheers erupted from everyone watching, hoots, and hollers all full of love and glee. Scott and Lydia the loudest, there were tears in their eyes as they watched their best friends. The two had suffered so much, lost so much but had each other. The alpha and the banshee knew it was coming, Stiles needed her, and she needed him. This was the couple that everyone had been rooting for from the very beginning. The pair that met when they were kids, that grew up together, that grew up in love. She was his girl, and he was her man, now and forever.

(Y/n) pulled Stiles up and he instantly enveloped her in his arms. The music started and her song played, her favorite. He began swaying the two of them as she held onto him because they had each other.

"You know I love you right?" she asked the smile still on her face.

"Never doubted it," he smiled back looking at the ring that seemed to fit perfectly on her hand, before kissing the top of her head.

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

They danced as their friends watched on, filming the emotional moment. He glanced down at her, taking in how absolutely stunning she was, the dress she was wearing seemed to highlight everything about her, a magnifying glass to show just how perfect she was. Her heels were off to the side, she had ditched them as soon as they had arrived and he had laughed because she was perfect. She was a vision of beauty, of heart, of love, and she was perfect.

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

"Darling, you look perfect tonight," Stiles whispered in her ear as they swayed.

They were still in Scott's backyard as the thoughts raced through his mind. He was still reeling from asking her, his heart still beating incredibly fast. She had said yes, it shouldn’t have been shocking but it still surprised him. She was incredible and he wasn’t sure that he deserved her or her love. She deserved the universe on a silver platter, so much more than what he thought of himself, but she chose him, and he knew that he could never love someone the way he loves her.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

He was fiddling anxiously with his tie while his mind took him back to that first night when the two of them had danced under the stars. That night when they were sixteen and camping in the middle of the woods. Where she had been barefoot, wearing sweats and a flannel. Where he looked at her and saw the most beautiful creature in the world when he saw his world.

"C' mon man, breathe. This is (y/n), the girl you've been in love with since you were like five," Scott laughed fixing Stiles' tie for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

Stiles was going to say something, probably something sarcastic, but his mouth went dry as the wedding march began to play. His body froze when the doors opened. Everyone stood up and Scott went back to his spot. Stiles’ eyes, like everyone else's, were trained on her and in an instant, all his nerves were gone. Just looking at her as she walked down the aisle, following her nieces who were throwing flower petals, he only felt his heart swell knowing that this was it, he was marrying her. He was marrying his best friend, his personal tether to the world, he was marrying the love of his life. And that was all he needed, she was.

I have faith in what I see

His breath hitched when she stopped in front of him. And she winked at him, a smiled of absolute adoration formed when he caught it. She always seemed to know exactly what to say or do to calm his nerves. When the Wedding Officiant began to speak the two of them couldn't hide their smiles or their absolute happiness as the ceremony officially began, because they did it, they had gotten the love of their lives.

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

He would swear to anybody at any time that at that moment she never looked more like an angel. A stunningly gorgeous angel. Her dress was stunning and only seemed to compliment her beauty in the most amazing way. She had picked it with her bridesmaids; Lydia, Kira, and Malia, it fit her perfectly. The white gave a heavenly appeal causing her to look more angelic than ever and it was perfect.

I don't deserve this

As she gazed at the man standing in front of her, the love of her life. She tried to memorize each detail as he shared his vows. The only thing she could think about was how absolutely amazing he was, and how anybody who had him in their lives was incredibly lucky. That she was so incredibly lucky. Because she had gotten the guy, the one who loved her, even when she wasn’t sure what love was, the guy who had her back, always. She had gotten him and she was never going to let him go. What she didn't know is that he was thinking the same exact thing because she was the love of his life, his messed up, scary, werewolf filled life and she was all he wanted.

You look perfect tonight

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day twelve

Prompt #10: “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Canon Character Death (mentioned)

Rating: PG

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker, Ben Parker (mention)

Words: 3304

Author’s Note: part vi of a may & peter series, but could technically be read as a stand alone. so here we are at long last, folks: the +1 of this 5&1 series: “5 times May was there for Peter... + 1 time he was there for her.” enjoy <3

>>Forget Me Not

Depending on how it’s calculated, Peter is either sixteen or seventeen, or maybe even twenty-one, and May’s head hurts every time she thinks about it.

Everything is a lot more complicated post-Blip, actually, but May’s learned how to spin her experience to get exactly the kind of reaction she wants. 

If she’s applying for a job, in between talking about her strengths and weaknesses she peppers in details of how she’s a single parent, and how her struggle to reunite with her own kid cemented her belief in the importance of keeping families together. It’s told in a way that’s personal and yet sanitized, and it’s so neatly packaged she’s quickly hired by the Region II branch of FEMA to run charity events in the Queens area.

Donors, meanwhile, need to feel satisfied and entertained, so for them she wraps her experience under a carefully crafted veil of humor. She tells of how she went from being mistaken for a ghost to a floozy to a burglar to an actual miracle in under the space of a minute, and they laugh, and the money pours in. It’s a double win, because she believed in free housing for the homeless even before the Blip, and now the job keeps her and Peter from being homeless, too.

When Peter asks about what the Blip was really like, all she says is that she just wanted to find him. Out of all the versions she tells, this one is probably closest to the truth.

Because the truth is that in the version she dreams about, what the neighbors thought of her is the least of her concerns. One second she’s sitting in Ben’s chair, frantically skimming the news for any mention of Spider-Man, and then suddenly she’s being accosted by a family she doesn’t know in an apartment that’s no longer hers. In this one, she still doesn’t know if Peter is even on earth any more, and in this one, she’s seeing a twelve-year-old girl that was seven just minutes ago. That’s how she discovers five years have passed, and all she can think is please, please tell me I didn’t leave him here alone.

She hadn’t, and every time she wakes up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, she thanks every deity she can think of for that.

She’s never told Peter, but another part of her Blip experience was that once she found out where Peter was and that she wouldn’t be able to go to him just yet, May had gone to Ben.

She hadn’t even bothered with the subway—which was probably wise, because her pass wouldn’t have worked anyway—and just ran all the way to the cemetery, because five years were gone and the fact that Ben was always, always fifty-one suddenly felt like a comfort instead of a curse.

Getting to the cemetery, however, made five years feel more real than even seeing the twelve-year-old had. What was normally so well kept had fallen into disrepair, overgrown and neglected, without even a single fake flower to decorate the tombstones. Worst of all had been Ben’s stone itself, which, in a particularly cruel act of vandalism, now had a large crack running down the middle.

May had dropped to her knees in a bed of clover, and cried—

and cried—

and cried.

_____________________

“What do you mean it’s gone?”

May’s phone is propped between her shoulder and her ear, and she’s working through her lunch break yet again, but she’s more than capable of taking a personal call and answering work emails at the same time.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the bored voice of an underpaid government agent intones. “We have no record of a vehicle matching that description under your name, and any item not found in our database was likely stolen before cataloging could occur. If you can provide proof of purchase from within six months of the Blip, we can provide financial restitution for—”

“No, no,” May begs, and she hates the way her voice cracks. “It was nearly twenty years old, it wouldn’t even be worth that much. I just want—I need my car.”

“I understand you’re upset, ma’am, but unfortunately there’s nothing I can do. If it’s not in the system and it wasn’t with the rest of the items you collected, it’s not here.”

After the snap, there had been a coordinated effort by local and state governments to collect all the possessions of the dusted, assuming there were no immediate next-of-kin to claim ownership. May and Peter had finally finished the process of filing for reclamation a week ago, and everything had been delivered to their new address—with the exception of Ben’s car.

May swallows and tells herself that she will not cry.

“Well—could I file a police report for it, maybe?” She clutches her phone tighter. “I still have the license plate numbers and I can prove it was mine, and I think I have some old photos of it?”

A long pause, and then the agent clears her throat. “Ma’am, would you like me to reroute your call to our restitution department, or will that be all?”

May closes her eyes and thinks no, no, no. But money is tight, and no matter how small of an amount it is, it’s better than nothing. So what she says is, yes, and she ignores the way the hole in her heart grows three sizes.

It’s been doing that a lot, actually, because the Blip feels like just another entry in a long list of crises in May’s life.

She wonders sometimes if she hadn’t already lost him, if the Blip would have taken Ben, too, or if he would have been left to move on without her.

She puts her headset on and stubbornly manages to avoid thinking about Ben for the rest of the day, and keeps it together even through the hours when Peter is out on patrol that night. When he comes back, whole and uninjured, she smiles and kisses him goodnight, and everything is fine.

Then she makes the tragic mistake of walking into the bedroom that still doesn’t feel like hers, and sees a single bed instead of a double. The digital alarm clock on the bedside table blinks a neon green 12:01, and she remembers:

Ben is dead.

May does not cry, because Peter is on the other side of the wall and Peter has super hearing.

She lies on the bed and doesn’t bother climbing under the covers. Instead, she stares at the ceiling and thinks three years, and then remembers three years is eight and she’s lost in a spiral of lost time and unspoken regrets.

When the clock strikes three, May is still awake, and Peter isn’t.

(May cries.)

_____________________

Some days are easier than others, and some are harder, but that’s just how grief works. It’s a little strange for May, in that she feels like she’s lost Ben all over again. Really, it’s the world that’s lost her this time around.

Peter’s… Peter’s dealing with a lot, after Tony. So May doesn’t bring up Ben, no matter how much she wants to, no matter if the anniversary is approaching or not.

It comes as a significant shock to her system, therefore, when Peter comes home from school and brings him up himself.

“So what time are we going to visit Ben tomorrow?”

The question startles May so much she loses her grip on the laundry container, and it crashes to the floor, splashing detergent liquid all over the cabinets and vinyl and the entire bottom half of May’s trousers. May swears impressively, and Peter scurries to grab the mop out of the closet.

“Where you not… planning on it?” Peter leverages the mop over the island to May, leary of stepping into the mess himself.

May takes the mop from him and a paper towel from the counter, and starts dabbing at a spot on her shirt before it can soak in. “It’s the middle of the week, Peter. You and I both have commitments.”

A frown settles into Peter’s face. “But we always go on the day—the day when—”

“No, we don’t,” May snaps, and Peter actually flinches at her tone. May immediately feels bad. “I mean—we missed five years. It’ll be fine if you miss another year.”

“…Why would I want to?”

“Listen, I can’t explain it.” May rubs at her temples in an attempt to stave off a headache. “You’ll just have to—”

“Trust me?”

May looks up at Peter in surprise.

“That’s what you’re always telling me, right? When I don’t want to do something?” Peter shrugs, running his hand through his hair a little self-consciously. “I just really think we should go.”

May crosses her arms, trying to ignore his hopeful expression. “Peter…”

There are a million and one reasons for her not to go. She doesn’t feel comfortable taking off work, but she doesn’t want to go after dark; the distance to the cemetery is twice as long as it used to be; it’s in a rough area and Peter might be a superhero but that still doesn’t mean it’s wise; she’s stressed out over a big gala they have next week; she knows Peter’s still avoiding dealing with his most recent loss, never mind past ones.

But May also knows that those are more excuses than reasons, and if she wanted to, she could definitely make it work. What’s really holding her back is the fact that she doesn’t think she can handle seeing Ben’s grave, abandoned and dilapidated—yet another reminder of how his physical presence was being erased—on the anniversary of his death, of all days.

She wonders if Peter even knows.

Peter must see something in her face that warns him he’s about to lose her, because suddenly he’s sticking to the wall and crawling over, careful to avoid the wet floor.

“Please, May?”

He’s pulled out his best puppy dog eyes, the ones he reserves for emergency situations. He knows she still hasn’t learned how to say no to them.

May sighs.

“I’ll call you when I get out of work.”

A look of sheer relief crashes over Peter, and May wonders if this wasn’t just about honoring an old tradition.

Then Peter snatches a banana from the fruit bowl with his webs, and holds it cheekily to his ear. “Lemme know when you’re ready to split!”

The tension in the room breaks, and May swats at him with the mop. “What did I tell you about using those things in the house?”

He’s Spider-Man, so she misses by a mile and he just laughs.

“I didn’t break anything this time!”

She glares at him, but can’t deny the accuracy of his statement. “Don’t you have homework to finish?”

Peter grins, knowing he’s won this battle, too, and then scuttles back to his room—banana clenched in his teeth and limbs affixed to the wall. May shakes her head and goes back to trying to mop up the spill, wondering how her nephew breaking the laws of physics had become one of the few things that still resembled her old life.

She makes it through the night without breaking down this time, and she even gets up early enough to go into work an hour early the next day.

In a frenzied state of productivity, powered by wanting to avoid thinking about anything else, she finishes everything she absolutely has to do a little before three. She’s not ready to face Peter (face Ben) yet, though, so she spends the rest of the time replying to days-old emails and rearranging the calls list until her manager all but throws her out around four.

She stands outside the building and thinks about hiding until it’s too late to go. It’d be easy enough to tell Peter she’d been held up at work—it’s certainly happened enough to be believable—but she’s spent so much time begging Peter to be honest with her, even the thought of lying feels like betrayal.

And, he’d asked her to trust him.

May takes a deep breath and calls Peter, and he picks up on the first ring.

“Is a meatball sub okay?”

It’s Peter’s voice, but the question is so unexpected May checks the number anyway.

“I mean, I could probably swing by Shahzada’s if you’d rather have a gyro or something, but Delmar’s is on the way and I’m a little late so—”

“A meatball sub is fine, Peter,” May interrupts, knowing how long the boy can monologue. “But why do I need one?”

“Because you probably skipped lunch working and I’m just always hungry.” Peter says this as simply as if he’s explaining that water is wet and the sky is blue.

He’s also right, so once again, May can’t argue. “Do you have enough to pay for them or do you need the card?”

“No, I got it. Mr. Delmar owes me a couple free ones for doing some favors. I’ll meet you at the train station on 71st in… half an hour and we can go from there?”

“Yeah,” May says, a little knot forming in her throat. 

She’ll have to pass the 107th Precinct to get there—but Peter’s on the other end. She’ll always do anything to get to her boy. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Peter’s more subdued than he was last night when she finds him on the platform, but there’s a strange determination shining in his eyes. He hands her the sandwich, only a little bit squished from being in his backpack, and then they both ride the train to the stop on 69th and Metropolitan Ave.

The fence circling the cemetery is still as rusted and dilapidated looking as it was three months ago, and it doesn’t fill May with much hope.

Several of the top spikes have broken off, probably by bored teens or just the wear and tear of time, trash of every form litters the ground, and creeping ivy has wrapped its way around almost every iron post. When they reach the gate, however, May is surprised to see that its hinges have been oiled, and the weeds and garbage have been cleared away. Peter hurries in front of her to open the gate, and it swings open without a sound.

May stands frozen on the sidewalk, afraid of what she’ll find. Peter returns to her side and offers his hand.

“Just follow me,” he says, light sparkling in his eyes. “…I know the area.”

She smiles despite herself and takes his hand. As he leads her inside, she’s surprised to find that while the rest of the cemetery is still unkempt, the path that leads to the Parkers’ graves is clean, and the weeds have even been pulled up. Then Richard and Mary’s headstone and Ben’s come into view, and May can’t believe what she’s seeing.

The area around the two graves has been perfectly tended, and unlike the abandon graves around them, the flower vases have been washed of their five years of grime, and fresh flowers sit in each container.

And then there’s Ben’s headstone.

At first she thinks the crack’s been fixed completely, but when she brushes her fingertips over where it’d been, she feels the surface give just a little before springing back, and the texture is more porous than rock could ever be. She looks at Peter, and he carefully rolls up one of his sleeves, revealing the bracelet that carries his web-shooter.

“I had to tweak my normal formula to get it to stay hardened and not, you know, dissolve,” Peter says. Then he shrugs. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll hold at least until I can afford to fix it properly.”

“Peter, you—I don’t understand when you could’ve—” she cuts herself off, pure emotion threatening to take her over.

“I tested it on other stuff before putting it on Ben’s,” Peter says hurriedly, yanking his sleeve back down and suddenly looking incredibly anxious. “Unless… you don’t like it?”

She traces the scar that’d been left in her and Ben’s headstone, so painstakingly filled by her nephew. Tears spring unbidden to May’s eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

A tentative smile lights across Peter’s face, and he quietly excuses himself to go place a note in the metal box in front of his parents’ grave. It’s only then that May notices a similar chest tucked behind Ben’s, the flowers Peter had placed covering it nearly entirely. Peter notices her looking at it and carefully locks his parents’ box in place.

“I write letters to Ben sometimes, too,” Peter says, coming back over to her side.

He picks the box up and turns it over in his hands. He bites his lip, eyes not leaving the ground.

“I know you’re… worried. About Ben.”

May feels like she’s been sucker punched at Peter’s words, but tries to hide it. Judging by the way Peter’s mouth twitches, she doesn’t do it very well.

“What?”

“I mean about—about moving on without him,” Peter says.

(She’s not going to cry.)

“I know it’s not the same,” Peter continues, “but I’ve had a little experience living one life and suddenly finding yourself living another. Of having things that remind you of them disappearing, or even…” He sighs. “Even your memories of them.”

May’s heart breaks, and she places a hand on his shoulder. “Peter—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Peter sniffs and tucks the chest under his arm. “I guess, like… Okay, so I call Mary ‘Mom,’ because she is, right? And…”

He stares down at his shoelaces. “…I call my mom ‘May,’ because she is, too.”

May swears the world stops turning.

Peter works up the courage to meet her eyes, and he smiles shyly. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, loving someone forever doesn’t mean that your part of the forever has to stop once theirs is gone—or that forever means only.”

“Oh, Peter.”

May pulls him into a hug, nose smashed into his curls and breathing in the smell of his shampoo.

(May cries, but May does not cry alone.)

She holds him tight and shakes her head in amazement, and wonders when her sixteen-seventeen-twenty-one-year-old became so wise.

Then she remembers the little boy who came into her life so many years ago, who turned soap bubbles into magical adventures, who built circuit boards out of scraps from dumpsters, who wrote letters and saved people’s cats and weeded public cemeteries, and who one time even saved the universe.

This is who he’s always been.

“Thank you, Peter.”

Peter returns the hug, and when he speaks, she hears the smile in his voice. “Love you too, May.”

After she feels like she can breathe again, Peter sits them down on the grass and, opening the chest in front of Ben’s grave, starts reading some of the goofier notes he’s written in the last few months. May laughs, and sometimes she cries, and when Peter runs out of letters he recounts some of his favourite memories of Ben instead.

They stay like that until the sun starts to set, casting a soft orange light through the trees and tinging the shadows red. May watches as Peter carefully packs everything up, adding one more note to the box from his pocket. Then he stands and offers her his hand, eyes crinkling from his smile.

“Ice cream?”

May smiles back and takes his hand, and he pulls her up with an air of ease that still amazes her. Hand in hand they walk to the gate, which Peter closes carefully, and then they leave the graveyard behind them.

She’d told him she’d always be there for him, and nothing would change that. But maybe—just maybe—she was finally starting to realize that meant he’d always be there for her, too.

Forever.

[minimickzy]

Passing Notes pt. 2|| Peter Parker

in which Spider-Man finds a way to talk to the girl he’s been crushing on since forever

Characters: Peter Parker x Reader, Ned Leeds, Mj, Flash

Word count: 1552

Warning: Flash is a sexist pig (sexual harassment)  

AGE 16

a/n: there will be 5  4 parts to this series! just let me know if you’d like to be tagged <3 this is a rewrite of one of my first Peter Parker imagines

last part - next part

When you woke up the first thing you thought about was the note. You almost didn't want to check in case he hadn’t came back. But then again what if he had…

You rolled over to face the window and sure enough there was a new note peeking out of the bottom of your window frame. You smiled and picked yourself from the covers, grabbing the note and sitting back on your desk.

‘I couldn’t help but see your star wars poster- it’s really cool. Star Wars is the best. Are you excited for Solo? - your friendly neighborhood hero’

You let out a small laugh, Spider-Man is a nerd. Noted. ‘Oh yeah. I just don’t have anyone to see it with. None of my friends would be caught dead watching it.’ You thought it was a good sign he asked a question, he was trying to start a conversation with you.

You put the note back and then got ready for school. You wanted to try and hang out with Mj, Ned and Peter again. They were so welcoming and so so much better than the gossip queens you averagely hung out with. Liz was nice, and sometimes you did have fun with them, they just didn't like the same things as you plus Flash was such a dick.

At lunch you sat at your normal table, it was fine until Flash thought that your day might be going a little too well. You had been working on your chem homework when Flash sat down next to you and slipped your pencil from your hand. “Wanna try a experiment (y/n)?” He smirked as you tried not to gag. “Come on, Flash I have to finish this for class.” He played with your pencil between his fingers still with that ridiculous smirk planted on his lips. “Don’t you wanna know if we have chemistry.” He leaned closer to you and placed his free hand on your thigh. “I’ll save you the trouble. We don't. Now cut it out.” You tried to back away from him but he had other plans. He dropped your pencil and grabbed your waist. “Flash, let go of me.”

You tried to sound calm, you didn't want to let him win. You didn't know what to do. You were in the middle of the fucking cafieteria, all of your friends sitting near you and no one, not one fucking person was doing a damn thing to help you. “Stop it you fucking ass.” You hissed. He just grinned and moved his hand up slowly. You winced and tried to pull against his grasp but it was obvious he was stronger than you.

“I’m just testing my hypothesis.” He pushed himself towards you in attempt to kiss you but you moved to the side and used his moment of awkwardness to break free and punch him square on the nose. Everyone gasped at your table as Flash let out a yelp and you sprang out of your seat and soon it felt as if everyone was staring at you and the boy holding his nose. “What the hell (y/n)?” Liz snapped at you.

You scoffed, “he was fucking sexually harassing me!” Your heart was racing from the unwanted attention. “He was just messing around. You know, boys will be boys.” Your jaw dropped, “Are you kidding right now?” They all looked at you like you were crazy, like you were the one in the wrong.

Your cheeks burned as you looked around. Everyone in the lunchroom had their eyes glued on you by now and the teachers had started to make their way over to the scene.

Because of your clean record they only gave you a warning and two weeks of detention. The only bad recessions would be one, you now have a grand total of zero friends and two, you were the girl you broke Flashs nose. You’d be the hot gossip for weeks to come.

You were excused for the rest of the day so you headed to Mr. Delmars store. You used to go there nearly everyday but as you raised in popularity you were expected to hang around other places. The bell rang as you stepped through the newly rebuilt market. “(y/n)! Long time no see.” Mr. Delmar beamed as you made your way over to the counter.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of me now- Still remember my usual?” You tried your best to give a genuine smile as he chuckled. “I never forget a usual.”  He yelled back your order as he started to ring you up. “So, What brings you around here this time of day? Shouldn’t you be in school?” He gave you a disappointed look.

“Yeah. I was dismissed for the day... I punched this guy.” Mr. Delmar's mood shifted to protectiveness. “Was this kid giving you a hard time?” You nodded, “he just wanted something I wasn’t about to give him. Everyone said his was just messing around but it just felt so wrong.” “Don’t let anyone tell you you weren’t justified. You have to protect yourself from people like that. And if for some reason you can’t, you know my number.” you chuckled and gave him a tight smile. “Thanks Mr. Delmar. I’ll try to swing by more.”

The next day at school you tried to keep your head down. You didn’t talk to anyone, didn't look at anyone. At lunch you ate by yourself in the hall. If you were called on you gave a quick response before putting your head back down on the table. All in all it didn't seem to last too long. When the final bell rang that's when you remembered you still had another hour to go. Detention.

When you walked in you were surprised to say the least the both Mj and Peter Parker were there. What could they have possibly done to be stuck here? When Mj saw you she gave you a thumbs up and gestured for you to sit by next to her and in front of Peter. You slowly walked towards her before slipping in the seat and mumbling a “hey”.

Mj Smiled and started to clap, “Someone finally put that ass in his place, I’m proud kid.” “Thanks.” You gave her a half assed smile and sat back in the chair. The teacher gave you both a delayed shush before looking back to his computer. Silence hung in the air before Mj turned back towards Peter, “Hey Pete, you up for another movie night?” “Uh- Yeah, yeah sure.” Every little question seemed to throw Peter off, it was kinda adorable. “What about you (y/n)? You game?” You looked at her shocked, she was inviting you even though she didn't have to work on a project? Groundbreaking. “That sounds cool, I’m in.”

The three of you waited until the bell finally rang and let you all free. “Peter, your house or mine?” Peter looked towards Mj before thinking through his choices, you seeing his nerdy apartment or Mj being in control of the movie and seating all while knowing of the massive crush on you Peter had been laundering for years. “Actually- what if we see Solo? We can tell Ned to meet us there.” Mj nodded and pulled out her phone, texting who you assumed Ned.

The movie was great, Han Solo keeps finding ways to become even more attractive. You were so happy, the holy-geek-trinity had brought you with them to see Solo. You kept thinking of how you told Spidy you wouldn’t get to see it but now you could tell him what happened and tell him all about how you weren't a total loser with no friends they actually liked.

A new note was sticking out your window when you closed the door to your room. ‘Maybe someone will ask you to see it, I think my Spidy senses can feel it. - your friendly neighborhood hero’  you smiled, his Spidy senses were right. ‘Funny… This really cool group of friends asked me to see in after I got stuck in detention. Guess you were right.’

You stuck it back in before plopping into bed for the night and turning your phone on to see someone had added you to a group chat.

Mj: We took a vote and we decided you could join the group. We figured seeing as now you don't have any other friends and you like star wars this would work out. If you accept there are mandatory movie nights, Peter says you’re smart so you should try to join the decathlon team and finally a assigned seat at our lunch table

Ned Leeds: You don’t have to do any of that (y/n), we just thought you were cool (: welcome to the awesome clan of PMN

Peter Parker: We voted?

Peter Parker: wait that sounded wrong

Peter Parker: If we had i would voting yes

Peter Parker: Unless you don't want to join

Peter Parker: nvm sorry

Peter Parker: ignore this

Ned Leeds: Dude that’s embarrassing

Peter Parker: Ned Shut UP!

You: Uh- sure. You guys are really cool (: I’ll see you at school tomorrow I guess

You went to sleep smiling like an idiot that night.

General taglist 

@marvels-queen-bee  @paigeyisme @littleblue5mcdork @mystxrieux @dannnyphantomm @properparker @flopobrien @utautattooedghoul @commondazy @safehaven1097 @macymafia @pinetree111 @thekidsofneibolt @mcheung0314 @notnotnotnotkayla @bigbilliamdenbro

Peter Parker Taglist

@make-yourownmemories

Passing Notes taglist

@spacedoutsher @fandomlover03 @kawaii-girl-101 @farfromjustordinary @legendarydazekitten @hiorheybitch @supernatural-emo-trashbin @stevieboyharrington @embace-themagic @ashleyhearto @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @sweetscake613 @saltyteru @allthings-sandy @sonoteorico @queen-tay-tay-love @adriennemichelle98 @wefracturedmotivation @dafnouche @greenarrowhead @cutie1365 @ohhhotstan @salty-kat @yourwonderbelle @thebittygirl @littlevelvethearts @thellamalord @magical-fandoms @abearindisguisecosplay @i-fucking-rock @untoldshortsofthefandoms

[novantinuum]

Together in Wanting

Read on AO3, comments and kudos there appreciated

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 2700~

Pairings: Fiddauthor

Story Summary: Ford overanalyzes every aspect of his strengthening crush on his roommate, and Fiddleford finally makes a move. (Content warning for some brief internalized homophobia.)

Very much inspired by an early RP with @the-ill-doctor, and my personal envisioning of how Ford and Fiddleford initially got together in our RP stuff. No context of that is needed to enjoy this, though. :D 

It only took the better part of a semester for thoughts of Fiddleford to become hopelessly and inseparably entangled within his mind. Like a single, minuscule spot of ink spilled on thick parchment— the property of capillarity pulling it through each and every layer, pigment spreading so deep one might never hope to separate the two again— whatever bewitching influence the man had unknowingly cast on him had grown and grown and created...

He shifted restlessly under his sheets, stealing away what were likely the last possible shreds of warmth his ratty bedding had to offer.  

Well...

It certainly created something new, Ford thought, anxiety buzzing deep through his bones. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, not here. And yet, ignoring every hesitant voice that echoed at his peripherals instructing— no, demanding— that he come to his senses least trouble find him, something beautiful. Truth be told, he’d never experienced anything like this before, this... level of inexplicable attachment to another person. It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Here he stood, bottom of the pecking order— a college freshman, and one who didn’t have a lick of spare time to dedicate to paltry, fanciful matters such as these— and he just had to choose to be sweet on his own one-and-a-half-year older roommate!

Well, not that he had any choice in the matter. If it were up to choice, he’d probably have jumped ship that fated day he noticed all his thought patterns inevitably looping back around to that warm hearted, gregarious, confidence-for-miles southern genius. With every nervous flutter he felt within, it was almost maddening. Almost, if not for the payoff he received whenever he responded to his puns with an even dorkier one (Hey Fidds, what kind of ghosts haunt the chemistry lab? Methylated spirits) and his roommate’s laugh rang out loud and free.

Dear god, he loved the sound of his laugh. The breathy twang of his voice as he sang along with his banjo, as off key as it was. Hah, and to think he once scorned all of Fiddleford’s southern quirks...! What changed his mind? What became different in the four months they’d coexisted together, since that first day when Ford foolishly almost wrote him off as a brainless southern hick?

Oh, he remembered that day so vividly he could nearly recount the exact emotions that filtered through his being at every turn. When he first met Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, he hated him. He was utterly furious, because he was so low strung about everything, and so folksy, and taking up space in what was supposed to be his single dorm, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, but thanks to a housing mishap became sanctuary to two. He fell right into the insidious trap of judging him by mere appearance, right into blatant hypocrisy. The guilt he still felt for that was palpable, pressing down upon him like lead. Hopefully one day he’d find the right moment to apologize.

Still, it was all too unimaginable.

How could he possibly have known then what he knew now? That he’d fudge his first set of final exams and receive a few A minuses because he, Stanford F. Pines, couldn’t stop thinking about a man? Or that he’d be friends with him to begin with, after bemoaning over him ceaselessly to Ma that first week on the phone? What if he explored this the way he would with one of his experiments, conducted an unbiased scientific query focused on the origin of human romantic interactions within the temporal lobe of the brain? Could he ever pinpoint the moment, the precise variable, that sent that first ripple of nervous energy through his chest? Was it the day Fidds commented on a sketch of his DD&MD character and called them ruggedly handsome, not knowing that Ford based this elven sorcerer on himself? (Or did he know??) Maybe it was the first time he casually rest a hand on his shoulder— an action likely as natural as anything to someone from the tactile South, but entirely foreign to him. Or perhaps it was when they found a common interest in tinkering and stayed up until three am building an alarm clock Rube Goldberg would be proud of out of a busted toaster, some notebook spirals they salvaged from the trash, and an oven mitt?

How many hypotheses could he forge?

He shivered in the bitter January chill, his blankets no longer appropriate protection from the elements. He tilt his neck to catch a glimpse of his roommate, eyes squeezed closed and breathing evenly in the bed across the small dorm. The distance between them was only a few feet at most, but it might as well have been impenetrable. Ford sighed wearily, laying limp on his back, as if the weight of a loss he hadn’t yet experienced had already settled upon him.

Who was he kidding? All these thoughts he’d let enrapture his mind, these idle fantasies of what could be? Foolish. Shameful, that deep, terrified part of him whispered. For a number of reasons.

Reason one, his subconscious monotonously supplied once again. Reason one is that you’re not here at this dead-end school to entangle yourself in the lives of others. You’re here to prove your worth to your family and to academia, however you can. Reason two. He’s your roommate for the rest of the year. If you make a move, and you botch this up, life will become painfully difficult.

Reason three.

Reason three was most of his worries, and why he still hesitated to make any sort of advances. He already knew Fiddleford was... well, queer, as many of the man’s friends oft referred to themselves. But Ford? He wasn’t sure if... he never... How would he even...

True, he never felt any strong inclination towards the so-called ‘fairer sex’ as a kid. Even whatever throwaway crush he had on Cathy Crenshaw in the second grade seemed more manufactured than real, since every facet of society he’d encountered aimed to press upon him the concept of man and woman, groom and wife. But if he’d never experienced anything... romantically... inclined in the first place, then how on earth can he know for sure if that’s what this is? In the end, however, he supposed it wouldn’t be changing much about the way people saw him either way. He was already a poor, Jewish Jersey kid from a mixed family with a rare genetic mutation, why the hell not add ‘gay’ to the mix?

The minutes ticked on into endless oblivion, the only noticeable sound except for the low wind whistling at their window and the drunk laughter of those rowdy frat boys a few doors down. He nestled even further under his blankets, settling so they pulled all the way up to his chin.

He desperately wished he were braver. Truth be told, even if he could amass the courage, he didn’t know if Fiddleford would be interested. Again, his roommate was one and a half years older. They were both adults, sure, but was that still too weird? Would it be a deal breaker? At the very least, he counted himself forever lucky to have him as a friend and confidant, no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between them. No matter what doubts assailed his thoughts, he would cherish each second he could get with him: Those few stolen moments on campus where Fidds would find him after class and they’d circle around the quad talking about DD&MD or the Apollo missions or that new academic journal on string theory Ford recently found for what felt like hours. Unique instances like last Friday, when they grabbed a bite to eat off campus together at Fidds’ impromptu request. Lazy evenings spent in the dorm not doing anything in particular, just progressing on coursework or personal projects, but always in each other’s welcomed company. Every bit of winter break, when Fiddleford kindly invited him to stay with his family in Tennessee so he didn’t have to hole up in the frigid dorms or return home.

He couldn’t help the hopeless, stupid smile that teased at his lips, his cheeks almost hurting from how wide it ran. See, and this was precisely why his feelings for Fiddleford couldn’t be downplayed as mere friendship or camaraderie! He never got this way thinking about his other DD&MD mates. Still, it was late, he was cold... letting his mind replay the same broken record all night long wouldn’t do him any favors. He yawned, and curled up to conserve as much body heat as possible.

“You still up?” a voice whispered softly from across the dorm.

He froze into a panic. All this time, Fiddleford wasn’t asleep?? Shit, shit, he didn’t notice him staring dazedly at his side of the room the whole time, did he?

“Yeah,” he replied on automatic, instantly regretting not pretending to be deep in slumber.

Fidds turned in his bed so they faced each other, head propped up on his pillow. “It sure is cold, huh.”

“It, ah... It sure is."

“An’ my blanket ain’t helping.”

“Uh, I- I could check if I have an extra?”

He didn’t. But oh, for Fiddleford, he wished he did.

“Y’know... with all that ice outside,” he drawled, “maybe we oughta work together to conserve heat. Mind if I... bunk with you, for the night?”

Never in his life had he been more grateful that he had the freedom to hide his blushing face under the covers. Jesus, Stanford, don’t go falling to pieces just yet.

“Bunk wi- with me?”

“Sure! I reckon that way, we can combine all our bedding and hopefully not freeze ta’ icicles in the middle of night.”

The unexpected proposal left his mind flooded with nothing but formless static, wholly undecided in its path. He... why would... What if they...

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” Fiddleford added quickly, and he knew he’d have to give a coherent response soon least he risk coming off as rude.

“I am!” he blurted out. “I mean, I- I’m not opposed. To the idea of it, to us, uh... yes.”

Nailed it.

His roommate grinned. “Be right over, then!”

He watched with a tumultuous mixture of dumbfounded shock (that such a proposition had ever occurred) and eager anticipation (that he would ever want to share a bed in the first place) as the man eagerly bundled up blankets in his arms and traversed across the room to him. While Fidds was taking care of that, he pulled back the corner of his comforter in preparation, as well as scooting himself clear to the wall. Gotta allow him as much space as possible, just in case his reasons for bed sharing weren’t the same as Ford’s reasons for his hands shaking like a leaf in sheer nervousness. Thank goodness he could excuse that away as the bite of the cold.

Fiddleford threw his blankets over the twin sized mattress, and true to form there was an instant increase in warmth. To think he’d nearly forgotten what such comfort felt like! After tucking the blankets in against the far wall— cute, real cute— he climbed in beside him. His long legs brushed against his, meeting with the hem of his sweatpants.

“Here, I can—“ he murmured, shifting his feet to allow him more room. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling in with a soft smile and resting his head on the pillow, nose mere inches from his. “Thanks,” he added, a flash of genuine appreciation in his eyes.

(Misty blue, he noted. Reminded him of the surf.)

Side by side, they lay together in pregnant silence for an unknown duration. Their overlapping heartbeats were the only identifiable sound other than the clock’s ticking, and the never ceasing whistling of the wind. Seems the frat boys, at least, had since gone to sleep.

“Ford...”

“Hmm?”

“You do know I like ya’, right?”

And with that, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire nervous system. His tongue went slack, and Fiddleford spoke again.

“Like, like like you?”

Oh sweet Moses, it was as if his stomach had turned itself inside out- but not in an unpleasant, sick in bed with carbonated water and soda crackers sort of way, not at all. No, rather the odd sensation was light and fluttery. His face felt curiously warm, a welcome change from the frigid conditions he’d suffered in all night up until now. Breathlessly, he tried to splutter out a response.

“Y-you... you mean to say that you—?”

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally notice? No offense, but your head’s kinda been up in the clouds.”

“I—“

He closed his eyes, steeling his nerves.

“I- really like you, too,” he finally admitted, that fluttery sensation acting up again at declaring it out loud for the first time.

“Oh, we all know,” he said fondly.

His eyes shot open.

“We?"

“What, d’ya think the rest of the crew couldn’t notice? Ford Pines, ‘m sorry ta say you really ain’t as subtle as you think you are, pining away over here.” Fiddleford paused to reach across to his face, and brushed a stray bit of his brown hair behind his ear. He peered thoughtfully into his eyes. “You ain’t subtle, and neither am I, frankly. It’s why I decided to be the first to speak up ‘bout it, ‘cause lord knows it probably wouldn’t‘ve been you.”

“I’d say I resent that, but you’re probably right,” he said with a warm chuckle, already feeling a great deal more confident about the scenario than he did only moments ago.

That wonderful man simply had something about him, something about the upbeat, genuine way he talked, that could put even the most nervous of souls at ease. He couldn’t explain it, not fully, but whenever he was around him he felt inspired to do things he’d never before considered. To take risks, to experience new and better things, to say ‘fuck it’ and sign up for that cryptography elective he desperately wanted to take even though it didn’t apply to his major... To always make the best effort he could to take care of himself, to live striving with purpose regardless of when that purpose feels impossibly distant on the horizon, to laugh daily even when laughter is the last thing he feels he’s humanly capable of...

To fall in love...

“How long has it been,” he asked, suddenly curious, “since you knew?”

“Since I knew...? Knew what? That I liked men? That you had a crush? That- that I also had one?”

“Any of it, really?”

“Hmmm,” Fiddleford thought out loud, tapping his slender finger to his chin. “Well, I figured out I was queer back when I was a kid. Had a crush on this young mailman we used to get ‘round our parts, see. And I knew you had the hots for me ever since I overheard ya’ muttering all sorts of cute things in your sleep.”

A nervous “Heh, heh” was all he could manage in response. He leaned his head ever so slightly closer to him.  

“But me? Well, I s’pose it was... Apollo 12. Back in November. We were watching the launch downstairs, in the lounge, and you... you were just so passionate about it. ‘Bout the whole world ‘round us. All my days an’ I’ve never known anyone so in love with discovery, with askin’ why. Spending time with you’s been one of the best things in my life,” he admitted, blushing slightly.

“Same,” Ford agreed, grinning wildly, his cheeks the same shade of red. “So then, if we both...? What now?”

“For now, we sleep,” he said with a short laugh. “If we stay up any later, not even Cafe Cubano could wake us up in time for lecture, I’m sure."

“Ah, but you doubt the power of my ma’s famous Cafe Cubano.”

He snickered, and then— leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Ford.”

The man rolled over then, a respectful offer of privacy within their already intimate arrangement. Ford beamed, still entirely giddy and awed in light of everything that had happened, dusting his fingers over the skin his lips graced.

“Goodnight...” he wished, his restless form finally finding a sense of deep, encompassing peace.

For tonight, at least, his slumber would be sound and dreamless.

[thetravelerwrites]

Daughters (A Stranger Things Drabble)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Stranger Things Words: 1855

One of my few non-terato related stories, about a year and a half old. This is a stand alone fic about Hopper showing Eleven the birth certificate from Dr. Owens and explaining what it means. Hopper opens up about his lost daughter, Sara. Feedback is appreciated.

Eleven sat on the couch covered in a thick blanket, watching a particularly old western that made very little sense to her, when she heard the special knock on the door.

Without taking her eyes off of the T.V., she reached out mentally and snapped open the four slide locks and the deadbolt with little effort. She heard Hopper enter the cabin, tap his boots against the door frame, and shut the door, though she didn’t turn to look at him. He had gone on his off-day without telling her why, and that, in her experience, was never a good thing. She was a little apprehensive to learn what exactly he’d been up to while he was away.

He stepped around the couch to turn the T.V. off and then sat down beside her, laying two envelopes on the coffee table. One was slim and white, and the second was big, brown, and overflowing.

“What’s that?” Eleven asked, nodding her head at them.

He didn’t answer right away. He sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his mustache with his right hand, looking down at the brown envelope.

“I went to see Dr. Owens today,” Hopper mumbled from behind his hand.

Eleven’s heart rate accelerated in alarm.

“Bad man,” Eleven said in a nervous whisper.

“Nah, he ain’t all bad,” Hopper said. “He had something for me. Well, it’s for both of us, actually.” He reached for the white envelope and handed it to her. She took it gingerly.

Opening it, she pulled out a blue paper with writing she didn’t understand. “‘Cert…certificate of birth?’ What does that mean?”

“It’s a paper the parents get when a baby is born. Then when that baby gets old enough, they keep it. It’s proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“Life. Existence.” Hopper turned to her. “It shows who your parents are, where you came from.“ He pointed. “It’s also got a social security number.”

“What’s that for?”

“In American, you have to have a social security number to do just about anything. Go to school, get a job, etc. That number is your whole life.”

She frowned at the digits on the page, then the ones on her arm. “Another number.”

“Yeah,” Hopper laughed. “We all got ‘em, kid. I guess most of us are lucky that it’s not our name, too.” He jerked his chin at the paper. “Keep reading.”

“‘This certifies that in the state of Indiana, Jane Hop…’” She looked up at him. “Hopper?”

He nodded solemnly.

“‘Was born in Hawkins, child of Teresa Ives, Mother, and James Hopper… Father.” She looked back at him and lowered the paper, though still clutched it in her fingers. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

“Means it’s official,” Hopper said. “We’re family. You’re kinda stuck with me now. Sorry ‘bout that.”

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything. She was feeling a lot of things she hadn’t experienced before and couldn’t properly name, and was having difficulty sorting through them. She stared hard at the paper for a few minutes. Hopper watched her quietly; he seemed to be giving her space to process all this and room to react. Perhaps preparing for a storm, if she wasn’t happy about the arrangement.

After a few minutes, she folded the paper again and gave it back, which he placed on the table next to the large brown envelope.

“What is that?” She asked.

Again, he didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, it was with a very heavy sigh.

“Well... since we’re family now, I figured I should introduce you two.”

He reached into the brown envelope and pulling out everything that was inside it. There were drawings, old elementary work sheets, coloring pages, but most of it was pictures. Sifting through, he extracted a photograph of a small, blonde-haired, blue-eyed child, wearing a frilly blue dress, smiling widely. Her curly hair was pulled up into two pigtails with aqua blue bands.

“Is that Sara?” Eleven asked tentatively.

Hopper nodded. “This was her first grade class photo. Just a month or two before everything went to shit.” He found another photo, in this one, Hopper was sitting with Sara and a blonde haired, blue-eyed woman who strongly resembled Sara. Hopper was clean-shaven in the picture, and they were all smiling.

Eleven pointed to the woman.

“That’s Diane,” Hopper said. “We were married. Then Sara died. Then we weren’t married anymore.”

“Why?”

“My fault mostly,” Hopper said, staring at the picture. “She wanted to move on, try and get her life back, but I couldn’t let go. I started drinkin’, lost my job because I stopped showing up, all kinds of things that she quite understandably didn’t want to deal with. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with me, either.”

“Where is she?”

“Philadelphia. She got remarried a few years ago, had herself a new little baby boy. She’s doing good. She’s happy.”

He reached into the pile of papers and drew out another certificate, like the one Hopper got from Owens, but from a different state. The name on the top line was “Sara.”

“She’d be your sister,” He said, staring at the type font as though he couldn’t see anything else. “She’d have loved a sister.”

The emotions that had been swirling in Eleven’s body had settled, and of the remaining ones, the most prominent was sorrow. “What was she like?”

Hopper’s chin shook, and she thought he might not be able to talk about it, but he said, “She was so smart. Smarter than me. Got it from her mom, I guess. She’s so interested in science and space and all that stuff.” He plucked at the aqua blue bracelet around his wrist. A tear fell from his eye and disappeared into his beard.

“She was gonna grow up to be a paleontologist and also an astronaut doctor. Not an astronaut that was also a doctor, a doctor that only treated astronauts.“ He smiled. “She was gonna have thirty kids, but she wasn’t gonna get married cause boys were gross. She was going to do so many things.” More tears fell, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She never got the chance to do anything.”

Emotions can be infectious, especially when the person exhibiting them was so stoic and self-contained ordinarily. Eleven could feel tears on her own cheeks as Hopper spoke.

“Her birthday was April 17th,” He said. “She would have been seven if she had made it that long. She nearly made it.” The tears were falling freely now. He didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. Eleven wondered if he had ever said these things to anyone. She knew vaguely that most people in town didn’t even know he had had a daughter.

“A few months after, I came home and Diane was packing up Sara’s room. Just pulling down everything and stuffing it into boxes. I asked what she was doing… and she said she was donating it. That she couldn’t stand looking at it all every day. And I got so… angry. It was like she was just throwing her away and I couldn’t believe she could do that. I over-did it a little; I yelled a lot, started throwing things. That’s when she kicked me out for the last time. That,” He pointed to the pile. “Was all I managed to save. That’s all that’s left of Sara.

“Well,” He said, “That and this.” He pulled the bracelet off of his wrist and toyed with it a little. ”She used to wear these stretchy blue hair bands, like, every day. She had all kinds of different bows and hair things she could’ve worn, but she always wanted these.

“One day, while she was on chemo, she pulled them out so she could take a bath, and all her hair came with them. After that, she couldn’t wear them anymore. I was going to throw them away, but she made them into a little bracelet and had me wear it. She said she wanted to save them for when her hair grew back.”

His face crumpled. Holding the little blue bracelet in both hands, he pressed it against his forehead and wept.

Eleven pulled herself up to her knees and hugged Hopper around the shoulders, crying into his neck. They stayed that way for some time.

When Eleven drew back, inexplicably, the blue bracelet was now circling her wrist. She looked at Hopper questioningly as she reached to pull it off.

He stopped her. “No, you should have it,” He said. “She’d want you to have it. I want you to have it, too. We’re family now.”

She smiled and her lip quivered. She nodded and looked at the bracelet. A tenuous connection to a sister she’d never meet. She looked at the two certificated on the table.

“Sara was your daughter,” Eleven said slowly, carefully. “Does this mean that I am, too?”

“Yeah,” He said, regaining composure. “That’s exactly what that paper means. You’re my daughter. I’m your dad. Officially.”

“Just officially?” Eleven said.

Hopper shook his head. “No, not just officially. If you want, it could be for real.”

“For real,” Eleven repeated. “Not like Papa.”

“No, not like Papa,” Hopper said seriously. “I know he wanted you to call him that, but was there ever a time when he called you his daughter? Treated you like a dad is supposed to?”

Eleven shook her head emphatically.

“No, because he doesn’t even know what it means. I doubt he’s ever really loved anything. Certainly not you.” Hopper looked down at the two certificates. “I loved Sara. And I love you, too, kid.”

Eleven had never once in her entire life heard those words. The swirl of emotions was back, but this time, the most out-standing one was joy. Incapable of speech, all she could do was smile and cry.

Hopper reached out an arm and Eleven hugged him around the middle, resting her head on his chest. He squeezed her tight with both arms and planted a peck on the top of her head. After some time had passed, they let go of each other, but she took his hand and held it. They both needed the comfort of touch right then.

Eleven dared to picked up a drawing and asked Hopper what it meant. He told her it was supposed to be a dog-velociraptor, laughing. It went on like this for several hours: Eleven would choose something from the pile, and Hopper would explain what it was; tell little, loving stories about Sara’s brief life, and then he would put it back into the envelope.

When they had gone through the entirety of the pictures and papers, all that was left were the two certificates sitting side by side on the table. The only thing they had in common was the line, “James Hopper: Father.” He folded them and put them both in the brown envelope and sealed it. This wasn’t just old memories anymore. It was proof, just like Hopper had said. The love of a man for his daughters.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[scifiwithswords]

34 things i adore about the novel i wrote for nanowrimo when i was 16

for context, i’m currently 23. 

i learned that national novel writing month existed when i was in 8th grade, decided to try it for the first time in 9th. i needed a novel premise that was so self-indulgent that i knew i’d be able to keep my attention on it for 30 days and 50,000 words. the premise i picked can best be described as “jumanji, but with fanfiction.” basically, it’s about teens waking up in their favorite fictional universes and using them as the best playgrounds ever. 

...for a year. the first book, written when i was 14, was about my self-insert Hazel and her best friend Drew getting ripped away from their tragically boring ordinary lives, being dropped in the Doctor Who universe, joining Torchwood, falling in love, and then being catastrophically separated and having to cope with figuring out new universes without each other’s aid. They go on solo adventures, grow as people, and then find their way back to each other. 

Fast forward about eleven months. I’d enjoyed the nanowrimo experience and didn’t feel like i was done with Hazel and Drew. but a story with just them, i felt, would get boring fast. so i added in two new ‘travelers’, auby and daniel, who were originally going to be a beta couple because i was 15 and hadn’t figured out that i was gay and could write gay characters yet. the second book has more self-indulgent fandom shenanigans, but there’s an increasing tension throughout it related to why this whole being-flung-between-universes is happening to them, and whether or not some higher power is responsible. this all culminates in hazel and drew having a climactic argument, daniel leaving the apartment they share on the naruto universe to give them some space and getting stabbed and dying, and then the three remaining travelers being taken to a blank white dimension where they are offered a choice: the lives they’re living now, or almost-perfect ones in the normal world. all three of them choose to continue on as travelers. (this is the book where the relationships get really deliciously complicated--Drew and Hazel are constantly disagreeing over whether there’s a deity responsible for what’s happening to them, Auby is paired with Hazel on her first universe ever and her reaction is massively different than Hazel’s was--her only goal, at the beginning, is to go home. she hurts people on purpose in service of this goal, which Hazel is angry about for a long, long time after.)

That still wasn’t enough. there were still loose ends that i hadn’t sealed, the possibility of a story in the snippets of everyone’s old life that Evelyn (the ‘deity’) in book 2, had appeared in. so there was one more book, written my junior year of high school, to resolve it all. Evelyn turned out to be a traveler who had died. Her partner, Tobias, created his own world to work on getting her back. he brought back Daniel instead, by mistake, and then eventually succeeds. We learn, in the middle of the book, that Evelyn wasn’t the real reason all of this was happening: the true puppet master was her sister Rennie, who had been writing a story where terrible things happened to the people who had wronged her over the years. auby, when she got a little older, had abandoned Rennie as a friend.  Daniel had never become her friend. Drew and Hazel had said some stupid shit to her online. But when Rennie feels the story getting really out of control (when Tobias takes things into his own hands to rescue Evelyn), she decides to try writing herself into it. And into the story she goes. At the end Evelyn is able to leverage her in-universe powers to give the travelers (who call themselves wanderers now, thanks to Tobias) another, less cruel choice: be wanderers with control over their own destinies and destinations, or stay on a nearly-utopian world she’s created for them. Drew and Hazel go, everyone else stays, Evelyn fades away. 

I hadn’t reread these books in many many years. I reread the 8th grade one last summer, looking for clues about what i was like in 9th grade (i’d thrown out all my journals from when i was younger years before, a decision that i bitterly regret.). i decided to reread wanderers (aka book 3) on a whim, and found that it depended so heavily on book 2 that i had to reread the latter half of that as well. 

my major reaction is that the premise, the plot, the relationships, everything--it’s all so quintissentially teenage, in a way that i genuinely didn’t understand it was at the time. the prospect of being pulled from one universe to another, with no control over where you’ll go and no knowledge of when it will happen, was always an allegory for the lack of control you have as a teenager, living under rules and expectations that you had no say in choosing. the fact that being thrown around between fictional universes goes from something the characters love, to something they question, to something they resent. the ways that they grow and change within and between the books, and the way those changes reflect changes that most people go through between fourteen and sixteen. 

so, without firther ado, the list, compiled during my 2018 Wanderers reread: 

1.       Hazel being like “I was braver back then”

2.       Drew being like “we used to like testing our limits, now we were afraid of what we might be capable of”

3.       The complicated relationship between Auby and Hazel and why they dislike each other. Hazel being like “Drew and I worked well with Daniel because he was independent and unique, but Auby was clingy and needed to lean on people. I didn’t like being anyone’s people.”

4.       The general sense of them having no control over the course their lives are taking, and coping with it by leaning hard into their relationships. It’s so teenage and at 16 when I was writing this I didn’t even realize that.

5.       The pacing in Wanderers! The Rennie stuff at the beginning! The stories of everyone hanging out independently or in little groups before they’re all brought to the same location by Tobias’s success! The way we leave off Tobias and Daniel’s story, after their relationship and quest have been explored a little, and immediately when we come back to it, the rest of the kiddos are involved.

6.       The characters unique preferences and thought patterns that resolve themselves so well in first person, why tf did I stop writing this way?

7.       The sweetness and gentleness between Hazel and Drew; how much they love each other. Hazel letting Drew hug her for longer because she’s concerned about how wiped out he looks, the two of them laughing together the first morning in the Forest, Hazel’s (kinda irrational kinda founded) jealousy of Auby

8.       Auby’s very confusing feelings about Daniel, who doesn’t remember the life they could have had together and isn’t the same person as he was when they would have started it.

9.       “It wasn’t fair, and I know life isn’t fair, but this thing was the reason my life wasn’t fair”

10.   The downsides of the AU. Drew felt like the alternate him was a bad person. Hazel didn’t love Drew as strongly. Auby getting almost everything she wants but still pining for the only thing she has now. And being unable to mourn this Daniel, g-d.

11.   “On the nights when I was just getting to bed after not sleeping for a few days, before Daniel, was the only time that I ever allowed myself to think about Evelyn actually being back.”

12.   I haven’t done character work this intense since uh. Since this.

13.   Rennie feeling like a bystander to her own (magical) story. The whole concept of there being a place where her characters are that she can’t describe because she can’t make herself see it. Her seizing back control in the end.

14.   Rennie didn’t realize she was being cruel, she thought she was coping

15.   Fuck did I pour myself into Auby and Rennie’s relationship. As both of them at the same time somehow.

16.   TOO BAD THE LOCKDOWN HAD A PURPOSE also really good pacing. When did I get so bad at pacing

17.   The fucking metaphors. Tobias turning his mind into a ‘drill’ instead of a ‘net’ when he’s mentally linked with Evelyn

18.   “Her voice was like bells, like wind chimes, like laughter. It was larger than life, and there was no problem with that.”

19.   G-d Tobias’s last conversation with the ‘real’ Evelyn

20.   “I hate you, you know,” Rennie said mildly, as though she was informing me that my shoe was untied.

21.   I grasped at threads, responded to what I could understand with the words that I could find. “Rennie, you know that I would never-“ -- “Yeah, Auby, I do,” she said. “Because I wrote you that way. You’re not actually Auby Harris. You’re my Auby Harris.”

22.   The concept of Tobias and Evelyn flying too close to the sun together, and Evelyn paying for it materially, and Tobias paying for it in heartbreak. The sense that they really love each other.

23.   Auby blaming herself for the things Rennie did because Rennie was betrayed by (a different) Auby

24.   Rennie makes room for Auby on the couch and Auby goes to sit on a different couch

25.   That good good serial narrative shit! Hazel’s main internal struggle in the second book being reconciling what had happened in the first book! The ending of the second book hanging like a specter over all of them for the entirety of the third book!

26.   This was the end of the line. This was our happily ever after. But the stories had never left off with the character in his happily ever after jumpy and frustrated, almost craving the intensity of the harsh journey behind him? […] we had always thought of our lives as us against the world, and now there was just…us.

27.   Tobias’s profound sense of loss after Evelyn dies, then him finding a piece of nature that he believes carries her essence, about which he thinks “Calm, and yet bold, breathtakingly beautiful. Yes, Evelyn was here.”

28.   EVERYONE BUT RENNIE HAS BEEN LIVING THIS LIFE SINCE THEY WERE 14 SO ONLY RENNIE KNOWS HOW TO DRIVE

29.   PAGES LONG argument between Hazel and Rennie about whether Marvel or DC makes better comics, interrupted by other happenings on the universe, involving all the major relationships between the characters, they eventually put it to a group vote because everyone else is getting annoyed, it turns out to be a tie because there are only six of them left and everybody loses because Evelyn is dead. Just the way the realization of the results of the vote cuts all of the tension.

30.   Everyone gradually transitioning from calling themselves Travelers to calling themselves Wanderers, and Auby not finding out that’s what they call themselves now until page 120/123

31.   Hazel letting Drew choose whether to stay or keep wandering at the end. Drew’s justification: I need her. She needs it. The fact that that’s softened by his restlessness in utopia like fifteen pages before.

32.   Hazel forgiving Auby, in their last ever conversation, for something that she had done ninety fucking thousand words ago.

33.   Daniel being sure that even though he’ll be okay, Rennie and Tobias will never be over Evelyn’s death. The fact that he starts talking and starts a little memorial service for her—Daniel, who tried his best not to need people, who usually barely speaks.

34.   The fact that the last line is (Hazel asking Drew) “Where do you want to start?”

[thejokersenigma]

Joker (JLeto) x Reader - Request - Plan B(ruce) - Part 1

Hi Guys,

This is a request I was given by the lovely @gemma60 a while ago, and I’ve only just managed to get the first part done!

The request was: The Joker sends the reader to a party that Bruce Wayne is throwing to gain more intel. She actually catches Bruce’s eye and he takes a liking to her and it turns out he is quite charming. One night leads to another and while she is gaining more intel and the Joker is ecstatic about all the intel he realizes Y/N maybe losing sight of the mission and might be becoming too friendly with Bruce.

I apologise for this chapter - it’s really long and tbh the first half of it is kind of completely pointless! haha I got carried away a bit - in a book I might be able to pass it off as character development, but really ther’s not much point in it here I just got a bit carried away that day haha but I’m keeping it anyway - maybe I need it later? haha

Also the title - I’m not sure if I’m keeping it or not - I don’t really know why I chose it, I just came up with it just now - I might change it to somethign more appropriate if I think of something!

Anyway, hope you enjoy the first chapter!

PS If you want to ask for a request feel free to message - ill happily give anything a go for any fandom!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my work, again, just drop me a message somehow and tell me which one!

I would also be really grateful if anyone who reads this would give me a little heart if you like it, or even better tell me something you liked, or didn’t! I always love reading your comments!

Thank you!!!

MASTERLIST

There was a knock at the door behind me. “Hmm?” I called at the door, not bothering to look up from the papers before me. I heard the door open and I shot a glance up to confirm it was Chris stepping into the room. Chris was a large muscular man, his neck the same size circumference as his huge biceps that made it nearly impossible to find him a jacket that fit him – even now I could see the material of his suit stretching dangerous tight across his body. His very appearance was intimidating enough – it was obvious he could likely crush you in his grip alone – but I also knew that the man was carrying at least two guns and a knife at all times.

Chris was a gift from my boyfriend.

“Yes?” I asked briskly, lost in my paperwork and wanting to get back to it, I thought there was something odd in the numbers, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“He’s is on his way here.” Chris said. I nodded at him and he took this as his signal to leave, nodding back and retreating out the door once more, closing it behind him.

I let out a sigh, gathering the papers together and filing them away for later. After that I headed straight out of the office, heading down one flight of stairs to the balcony dining level. Here a large circular balcony encircled the round building, railings separating the diners the yawning hole that overlooked the diners below on the main floor The balcony – and the room below – were currently empty, the cleaners already having been and gone, and service not starting for another few hours yet. I glanced around to check everything was in place, breathing in the usual scent of cleaning polish and disinfectant as I surveyed the dark wood table and chairs. I headed down the large, ornate stair case that led to the main floor from the balcony, rather than taking the staff corridor, and moved amongst the rest of the tables, checking cutlery placement and the state of the many glasses. All impeccable of course.

Finally, I turned my eyes downwards, peering through the see-through floor into the kitchen below my feet. I wasn’t tasteless – the floor wasn’t an omg-the -floor-is-there actually-floor-beneath-my-feet-or-am-I-going-to-fall kind of see-through – but the tiles that made up the floor had a certain transparency to them that allowed diners – and in turn the staff below – see straight through them and make out moving shadows.

What few people knew, however, was that directly above all the dining area, past the balcony, was what appeared to be a solid ceiling, the very centre made of glass that reflected back the scene below. Directly above this large circle of glass, was my office, surrounded then by a few miscellaneous rooms, mainly used for storage. This mirror circle, however, had a twist. It was made of one-way glass. An effective way to allow me to survey the workings of my restaurant.

I headed back toward the staff corridor, taking the next flight of stairs to the kitchens. There was only one floor below this and it was a large storage larder and freezer which held the all our produce.

I looked up at the ceiling as I wandered through the kitchens, noting the shadows of the tables above me. It still amazed me, and I had owned this restaurant for over a year now. I strolled to the centre of the kitchen where a petit woman in a chef’s uniform stood with striking orange tipped hair gelled into spicks on the top of her head, barking orders at the men and woman around her, conducting their assigned activities. “A’ [Y/N]!” She cried, noticing me.

“Evening Bera.” I greeted as I stepped up to her.

“Wa’ cannie do ye fer?” She asked, her Scottish accent strong and clear.

“Felt like getting my hands dirty.” I told her, looking around me at all the busy people slicing, stirring and rushing, the two of us at the centre of the organised chaos. “Just tell me what needs doing.” I said, clapping my hands and rubbing my palms together.

“Aye, ye can ‘elp.” Bera said with a smile and a nod. “I’m low on ‘ans for the desser’…” She said, glancing around, searching for someone “’Ey! ‘arry!” She shouted, here eyes locking on him from across the room and a skinny, pale boy shot his head up in alarm, clearly panicking he had done something wrong and fearing the wrath of Bera. “Boss is goin’ ta ‘elp ya, laddie.” He looked both relieved at this and more panicked, and I couldn’t help chuckling at the poor lads expression. Bera definitely scarred these poor kids, but I couldn’t deny that her methods produced good work.

I made my way other to the lad to find him aggressively beating a large bowl of chocolate mixture. “So, what’s on the menu?” I questioned him and - though he must have known I was there - he jumped at my voice.

“Um – just uh chocolate cake – lava cake.” He clarified. I looked at him blankly. “It’s a – uh – it’s a chocolate sponge with a chocolate middle – which is supposed to melt…” He tried to explain, “Ma’am.” He added for good measure.

I kept my face blank in confusion for a few more moments – long enough to really make the lad sweat - before I let my wide grin spread across my face. “I know what chocolate lava cake is Mr Francis, don’t worry.” He seemed surprised I knew his last name, but he should be, I made it my business to ensure I knew all my employees - and know them well.

I knew that Harry had only been here 2 months now, and previously had little experience with much cooking apart from compulsory lessons at school. I hadn’t interviewed him – I had allowed Bera to do that – and something in him must have appealed to her because that night I had spoken with her and she had strongly recommended me taking on the college dropout who had no qualifications or experience and also no other prospects.

I let her make her case and left her dangling for a while on my response. Though she acted like she didn’t care whether I accepted the boy or not, I knew she had her heart set on him and - if Bera like him that much - I’m sure he had potential.

Poor lad hadn’t realised what he had got himself into.

I looked at him now, sweat on his face, hair messy and - thanks to its length - forced into a ponytail a tiny tuft of a ponytail which was then hidden beneath a shower cap-like hat. I was pretty sure he had lost weight since I had seen him on the day of the interview - not that I was sure he’d had any weight to lose - and I almost felt sorry for him, expect for he was bashing all the air out of the mixture.

“Woah, woah, woah.” I said grabbing at his wrist where he was hand holding onto the wooden spoon and pulverising the mixture. His hand instantly stilled “Be gentle.” I instructed, “You’ve already done the beating for this recipe, this is the folding part.” I emphasised, removing the spoon and bowl from him. “You want to gently scoop and turn.” I said, demonstrating as I scoped the mixture and turned it over, revealing a powdery batch off flour that had been sat at the bottom of the bowl. “See?” I asked, doing the action a few more times and then handing the equipment back to Harry who had been watching my every movement.

His hand was shaky when he reached for the spoon, but he got on with my instructions none the less, copying my movements. I leant my side into the metal counter as he continued, “Harry?” He stopped suddenly looking at me in panic, “No it’s fine, carry on.” I said quickly, gesturing to the bowl. He hesitated for a moment, but then returned to his work. “Do you know why you’re doing what you’re doing there?” I asked, nodding to the bowl, “- the folding rather than beating?” He glanced quickly across at me and then, he shook his head in embarrassment.

“No, ma’am.” He croaked at me.

“You can’t beat it, because you’ll lose all the air from the mixture, then the cake will be dense and chewy. Fold it gently.” I told him calmly, “And you’ll keep the air in the mixture, giving you a nice light and airy sponge.” He nodded along to my lecture, his face showing his concentration and I could tell he actually cared what I was saying. He didn’t want to screw up this job. Good lad.

I watched him as he continued to work the mixture and I couldn’t help my mind traveling back to how lean he was again, “Harry?” He didn’t freeze this time, slowly becoming comfortable with my presence. “Do you even eat desserts?” He didn’t answer straight away, but eventually he shook his head.

I thought that was all that I would get on the subject, but then he took a deep breath “I baked a cake once, about 2 years ago.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes on the batter, “That was the first time I ever made anything like it. I made it for my Mum. For her birthday.” He told me, his voice barely above a whisper and hard to hear in the noise of the busy kitchen. “She never used to let us have sugar – she’s quite a religious lady - in her own crazy way.” He said, trying to make light of it with a quirk of his mouth. “Use to say something about it being a sin – though I can’t remember her reasoning.” He admitted. “Anyway, I had spent a couple of years at boarding school at this point – everyone else ate cake, chocolate and sweets – and I kind of forgot what she used to say. So, when her birthday came around, I decided to make her a cake - didn’t even think anything wrong about it – it was just what people did.” He muttered, forgetting to stir, instead staring down at the mixture, not seeing it, lost in memories. “But when I gave it to her, she threw it straight into the bin, said I was a sinner and a terrible son. I wasn’t allowed to leave church for the whole day – thought one repentance wasn’t enough I guess. Then she refused to let me go back to school. I had to drop out. No one else where would take me after that, they wouldn’t believe why I had to leave.”

I watched in sadness. That was terrible. Poor boy.

“Harry?” I asked quietly, breaking through his reminiscing. He shook himself slightly, returning to his mixing.

“Yes?” He asked.

“If you don’t know how to bake, why does Bera have you managing the dessert?” I asked curiously.

He gave a short bark of laughter that lacked any amusement. “Bera likes to throw me in the deep end, watch me drown and then resuscitated me when I’m a second from death.” He joked. I raised a confused eyebrow at his metaphor. “She’ll get me to make this,” He said, gesturing at the bowl as he stirred, “I’ll choose the wrong amount of ingredients or beat it rather than folding,” he glanced at me with a small smile, “I’ll burn it, and then I’ll make the chocolate bitter and solid.” He told me shamefully, “She scold me, telling me I’ve ruined it, then she’ll always magically appear with a whole batch of perfect ones to replace all those I screwed up.” He explained, “Bera doesn’t believe in teaching, she believes in learning.” Harry said simply. I smirked at this. That sounded right.

“How about we prove her wrong then?” I suggested.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion, forgetting himself for a moment, “Sorry.” He said when I looked at him funnily.

I shook my head. “You poor boy” I muttered with a small smile, shaking my head. “Bera’s sure whipped you into shape.” I chuckled sympathetically. “I’m going to help you.” I explained, “– then we won’t have any need for Bera’s spares – and the whole kitchen will be able to have a treat at the end of the night.” I said with a wink at him.

His eyes lit up at my offer. “Alrigh’, laddie,” I said, mimicking Bera’s thick accent, “let’s do this.”

 I knew I was pissing J off by not meeting him in my office, but recently I was pissed off with him for cancelling on me so much that I think he deserved to be a bit disappointed.

Our relationship was rocky – it could hardly be called a stable relationship when your dating one of the most famous criminals in all of Gotham city – but what annoyed me most was that J probably didn’t even see that our relationship was rocky. He seemed completely content with our arrangement. And I had too - at the beginning - now I wasn’t so sure, and I felt like he only met with me when wanted something. He never showed any care as an actual boyfriend would, he just showed up when he had a need or a favour. But why would I expect anything else from the clown prince of crime? The psychopathic murderer who was supposed to be locked up in Arkham at the moment, but was instead running a night club only a few minutes downs the road.

So, when I was happily in the kitchen, teasing and joking with Harry as I taught him how to create the perfect lava cake, J was pacing angrily back and forth in my empty office. That was until the inopportune moment that he appeared in the middle of the kitchen in the same second that Harry embraced me in a warm hug of thanks after I offered him a taste of his perfect cake creation.

All I heard was a snarl and I knew I was in trouble. J pulled his gun out, immediately aiming it at the two of us. I automatically reciprocated the action out of pure instinct and I heard Harry gasp, jumping a mile away from me.

“So, I’ve been waiting patiently upstairs,” (I highly doubted it had been patiently) “only to find you down here cuddling the staff?” J snarled at me. I scowled at him, refusing to drop my weapon till he dropped his – which he hadn’t yet.

“Put your gun down, J.” I muttered darkly, not taking my eyes off him, knowing how unpredictable he was. The people around us had all frozen in what they were doing, all watching the drama between me and my boyfriend. How embarrassing, I thought to myself – I wish I could say this was the first time.

“Aww, doll. You didn’t say please.” He whined, with a forced grin so wide that it made his eyes go squinty. “Besides, you’ve got your friend out too.” He pointed out nodding his gun at mine.

I sighed heavily, already exhausted by his behaviour and he’d barely been here a few minutes. I was going to have to be the bigger person again. I rolled my head in a sign of pure exasperation, but dropped my gun nonetheless. J grinned at me in childish triumph, letting his own gun linger in the air slightly longer as a show of having won, before he dropped it as well, letting the pistol hang loosely in his hand by his side. I kept a firm grip on mine, not trust his mood swings in the slightest.

“What do you want J?” I asked as the kitchen staff around us began to turn back to their work, seeing that the situation had diffused somewhat – though I knew they were probably keeping half an ear on us.

J grinned at my lack of enthusiasm, my annoyance only fuelling his cheerfulness. He returned his gun to the holster slung over his shoulder and I copied him as he moved closer to me. I couldn’t help but admire his lithe, predatory movement - everything about this man was graceful, dangerous and so captivating. It also made up for his shit personality.

I raised an eyebrow at him as he stepped up to me, ignoring any concept of personal space or the public situation we were in, and immediately grabbing my arse, lifting me slightly off my feet as he pulled me up against him.

I automatically moulded myself to the shape of his body – a shape I knew well – and I felt his breath tickle the skin just below my ear. “Can’t a guy just come and see his girl?” He teased seductively in my ear. He’d barely touched me, but already I had hot feelings creeping all over me from the length of his body against my own and the smooth tones of his familiar voice. The man was hypnotising when he wanted to be.

“No.” I purred back at him as I ran my hand over his shirt covered chest, felling the defined muscles beneath the highest quality silk. “Because you never do.” I teased back with a knowing smile as I traced his sharp jaw line with my lips.

I felt him purr under my touch and I almost forgot the kitchen and its people around us. “You’re right, kitten.” He growled, “I don’t.”

The next thing I knew he had scoped me up into his arms and was carrying me out of the kitchen. In the back of my mind I knew I ought to be annoyed with him, should punish him somehow, but I hadn’t seen him in awhile and my lust was easily overpowering any irritation I had towards him. I’d be annoyed later, I promised myself - for now I was going to enjoy myself.

“Wait.” I stopped him with a devilish grin on my face. He looked down at me with raised invisible eyebrows, but he dropped me down, folding his arms as he watched me skip back towards the counter of lava cakes. I grabbed a few and then skipped back, presenting to them to his quizzical and slightly amused face. He knew what I was thinking immediately, and his eyes flashed hotly, instantly scoping me back into his arms and whisking me back to my office, growling sinful things in my ear as I giggled.

 After a short break of heat and passion, I found myself lying curled with my back against J’s chest on the leather couch in my office, covered in a throw that usually hung over the chair. I didn’t want to move and disturb this moment we had made – the peace and calm from an otherwise chaotic man -  so instead I began to slowly and delicately trail my finger along the hand outstretched next to me from where J’s arm leant against the cushions and around my shoulders.

I traced the lines on his palm, feeling the familiar rumble of a purr from his chest against my back. I smirked to myself as I continued my pattern across his skin, sometimes travelling to creases encircling his wrist, sometimes moving up the tip of his fingers. Eventually I allowed my fingers to slide between his, interlacing them and griping his hand. He followed suit, surprisingly, and I watched as his large muscular hand easily dwarfed mine. I didn’t say anything, I just stared at his hand over mine. This was a hand that had shot people, stabbed people, strangled people. Yet I didn’t care. Because it belonged to the man I loved.

I smiled to myself as I thought this, admiring his pale white tones next to my normal, slightly tanned skin. We probably couldn’t be more different. But for the most part – though he annoyed me and could be a selfish arse - we worked. I couldn’t imagine life with anyone but J. I just wish I knew if he felt the same.

I shifted around so I faced him, bringing his arm up and around from behind my head, so our hands remained interlaced. I smiled, keeping my eyes on our hands, though I knew his sharp blue eyes were on my face, and I could feel his gaze burning my cheeks.

“I should do this more often.” He growled down at me and I laughed quietly, finally looking up at him where his eyes still held a simmering heat from a few moments ago.

“Maybe you should.” I giggled, adding a bit of pressure to his hand. “But if you are, maybe I need to invest in shower in this office.” I teased, noticing a spot of chocolate left over from the lava cake on his chest and using my free hand to wipe it off with my finger, licking the crumb off with a wink at him.

I saw his eyes smoulder hotter and I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t move soon – there was only so much of the day I could waste away in his arms and I had other things I needed to do – like run my business. Which reminded me, I had no idea how much time I already wasted away.

I glanced behind me at the rest of the office, catching the clock on the wall by the door. Shit. It was 6pm - the dinner shift had started over an hour ago. “Sorry J.” I said, with a kiss to his jaw, “Some people have to work.” I teased, as I quickly untangled myself from him and stood up, picking my clothes off the floor and getting dressed speedily.

“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He said, slipping to his feet and grabbing my hand, stopping my attempt to button up my shirt and pulling my attention back to him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“J.” I giggled, “We definitely are. I have work to do, and we’ve had more than enough fun for now.” I pointed out, trying to pull my hand out of his, but he held on tight and I felt my smile instantly drop. His face was serious.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, princess…” He drawled, tugging me closer and moving his hands downwards, finding my hips and holding me in place. “And though, that was an unexpected bonus, that wasn’t what I’m here for.” My every sense was on alert now, alarm bells ringing in my mind.

“What J?” I demanded, defences up.

“Don’t be like that, kitten….” He purred, turning on his charm, but I brushed it away. His mind was on business, and so would mine - none of his mind games.

“Stop with the cute nicknames J.” I told him dismissively. “Spit it out.”

“I just need you to do me a little favour, doll, that’s all.” His grip tightening subconsciously on my hips, knowing my instant reaction would be to withdraw from him. “You do owe me from earlier…” he said, clearly hinting to my time with Harry.

“I owe you nothing.” I snapped back, “And the answer is no J.” I said, no even waiting to see what he had to say.

“Come on now, Kitten…” He drawled sweetly, though behind his forced smile I could hear him holding back his temper. “You don’t even know what it is yet…” He purred.

“I don’t care J, get one of your lackies to do it.” I snapped, worming my way out of his grip.

He glared at me, his eyes flashing with annoyance for a moment before he reined it back in again, biting back the anger and his eyes softening slightly again. Clearly he was learning that snapping at me would only lose my cooperation altogether. “I would…” He drawled, jerking me at my hips so I was forced closer to him, only inches away from his body again. “but they don’t quite have the curves,” He let go of my waist, waving his up and down my body, mapping my womanly curves, “to do the job.” He finished.

I glared at him suspiciously. “Then definitely not.” I spat at him, making the most of him releasing me and turning to leave the room. I had a restaurant to run.

I didn’t get very far however, as J threw an arm out, catching me and towing me back towards him. Anger flashed in me, fed up of his irritating persistence, his inability to accept when I refused him. I threw an arm out at him in anger, but he easily dodged it, knowing me too well. In a split second though, I had a new idea and slammed my heeled foot down on his – childish maybe, but it worked in taking him by surprise - and he doubled over before bursting into hysterical laughter. It was enough to get him to drop his arm from me, and I once again tried to escape, turning to storm off, but this time he grabbed at my shirt, pulling me easily backwards by the material, the height of my heels allowing him to easily pull me off balance and cause me to stumble backwards. J made the most of this and pull me further backwards, shoving me up against the wall, pinning my arms with his own and painfully covering my feet with his own. I couldn’t move anything but my hips, and they were unlikely to do much damage.

I screamed at him in frustration. Squirming and writhing in his grip till he leant his whole body against mine to stop me moving. I cursed how strong he was, and how my body reacted to this simple touch.

“Now, as much as I don’t hate this position, doll.” He growled sinfully, “I would like you to listen” he snarled, smacking me against the wall when I once more made an attempt to break free from his hold, “to what I have to say.” He finished, his voice calm again.

I was out of breath now from my labours and I gave up. I could hear him out, but that didn’t mean I’d have to agree to anything. “What then?” I panted, glaring at him with hatred, my head slightly pounding with the collision against the wall.

“All I want… Kitten…” He purred sweetly, “Is for you to attend a small gathering of rather… expensive people.” He murmured to me, his eyes watching every feature on my face.

“Why?” I snarled.

He didn’t react to my aggression now, “Why just to be a friendly neighbour… After all, that is what you will be. I need you to get to the know the aristocrats of the city – one in particular… Bruce Wayne…”

“The millionaire playboy?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me and I forgot to be pissed off for a moment.

“The one and only…” Grinned J sinisterly.

“Let me guess, you want me to seduce something out of him like I did with Marvo?” I guessed, a bored look on my face.

“Bingo, doll!” He exclaimed with a wide grin. “Just like Marvo. Except, this time – princess…” He laid on thickly, “It’s not a run-down back alley casino… This time it’s in the best room in the house.”

“Oh?” I smirked, “And where’s that?”

“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He tutted, “Confidential information unless you part of the plan.” He told me with a grin meant he knew he had me.

I wasn’t going to play along, shrugging like I didn’t care. “Oh, well. Can I go now?”

“Sure, doll.” He said, matching my bluff, “Just thought you might like a chance of splashing some cash on a new dress and spending a night pampering yourself with what Gotham’s finest had to offer. All the fine food… champagne… beautiful jewels… not to mention the money…” He purred seductively into my ear. “It would be your first night off in weeks, wouldn’t it…?” He asked like the devil on my shoulder, knowing full well the answer. He knew he had me, I could see it in his smug face, those blue eyes sparkling.

“Just that one night?” I asked cautiously, with a raised brow.

He grinned triumphantly.

“And I wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone?” I asked – best to just check.

J’s face clouded over. “I’d like to see someone even try to touch you.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but the truth was I was biting back I smile – I loved it when he was jealous. I sighed heavily as though this was the most tiresome thing. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

tags: @gemma60

[moonliuna]

All the Wrong Notes

For egg week 2017 I decided to rewrite Nowhere Near You from Owen’s perspective. He’s a great character and I just want him to be loved tbh. So, please enjoy~ 

Fandom: Because You’ll Never Meet Me- Leah Thomas

Word count: 1,702

Read on Ao3 here

“Ich bin hier.” 

It’s what I’ve been signing to Fieke for as long as I can remember. Sometimes angrily, sometimes in self-pity, sometimes as if to remind myself. 

“Ich bin hier!” I am here.

See me.

Talk to me; let me respond with shaking hands, with pen, with music notes spilling from a stage. Allow me to tell you my secrets. 

Using anything but this void- this voiceless mouth.

I hand him a book, tapping the spine so he can see it. “Orchid”, I mouth. We’re volunteering in the school’s library, arranging the children’s books in rainbow order.

“How is orchid a color? It is already a plant. Is that not enough of a thing to be?”

I try to hold back a smile, and he elbows me. Leaning into him, I keep tapping the spines, pretending I can hear notes coming together.

He doesn’t meet my eyes. He can see me without doing so. The dull purple reflects in the black of his goggles. 

Him, lacking eyes; me, lacking a tongue. Sometimes I wonder if we make up for each other’s emptiness, or if this just makes the both of us worse. Creating black holes in the inches between us.

He sees using sound- some kind of echolocation. So I’m always tapping, trying to illuminate the world. Or maybe just myself. 

Ich bin hier.

“If you can’t handle work this simple,” the librarian, Frau Pruwitt, says, “how do you expect to get along in a respectable school?”

She’s not talking to me. 

I hear his breath catch, sense his anxiety. I start tapping. My nervous energy rushes the beat. 

Flowing water escapes my reach.

“Tomorrow,” I trace carefully on his arm, “come over.”

I laugh at his questioning reply.

“It’s a surprise!” 

And it takes him a minute to meet my eyes. But when he does, he’s smiling.

My phone chimes. 

Gutschein? (“Rain check?”)

I can’t help but worry.

Ist alles ok? (“Is everything ok?”) 

I imagine text-to-speech reading my message to him, explaining the words trapped inside a flat surface. Impossible for him to see.

Ich habe erkrankt. Es tut mir so leid. (“I’ve fallen ill. So sorry.”) 

It could easily be a lie, but I want to believe in him more than that. Still, it’s difficult. I feel like I'm making a song with all the wrong notes. 

Even a change of key can’t fix it.

He’s not home. I leave his gift- an orchid- with his father.

Surprise.

Get well soon.

I pull out my phone once I’m back home. Of course, Fieke is furious at him. She’s my sister- the only family I have left. Of course she’s protective. I just want to know the truth.

Hey, Moritz. Looks like you decided to surprise me today instead. Frau Pruwitt said you left angry. But we could have talked about it. You didn’t have to lie. You never asked me what I thought about you switching schools. You clam up! But I know that if I had a chance to leave Bernholdt-Regen, you would send me on my way. I’ll miss your frown. But Kreiszig isn’t that big. 

It doesn’t take long for him to respond.

Some of the schools aren’t in Kreiszig.

Owen?

I pause.

Yes?

I’m apologizing. Profusely.

Another pause. A breath of hesitation. I hope it doesn’t knock down this house of cards I’ve built.

Apologize in person.

In person?

You said “rain check”. That part better not have been a lie! 

It wasn’t a lie.

“Owen,” he whispers. “I haven’t apologized.”

“Owen. The orchid smelled like cinnamon.”

I am here. For the first time, it’s for someone else.

“If you think this is going to get you closer to him somehow- wake up. He’ll think you’re an idiot or he’ll think you’re being cute. He doesn’t take you seriously.” Fieke rants. We’re sitting in the pub, as usual.

All I can do is sign furiously in response, filled with the urge to scream. 

Back off.

I know.

I just want a chance. 

Of course, he appears. I pick up my phone, tap away at my latest project. Fail to block out their conversation.Their voices raise, and when I look up, the air has changed to ice and fire.

“We...”

“Us...”

“Our...”

I gaze at the two in disbelief. When did I become an accessory? When did I lose what little voice I had left?

Fieke slams her fist on the table.

I stand. I walk to the empty microphone in the front of the bar. Clutching it in my hands, I make eye contact with them. I stand on the tiny stage, mouthing the same words I always have. Yet, I’m silent.

“Ich bin hier.”

“Ich bin hier.”

“Ich bin hier!”

I am here. 

See me.

It’s 4 am.

I want to listen. If you want to speak.

I’m angry. But I still respond.

If you’re doing this out of pity, forget it!

You shouldn’t believe everything your sister says.

Leave her out of it. And you’re still talking down to me.

I’m sorry. It isn’t intentional.

It never is. People think that being silent is the same as having nothing to say. It’s not.

I don’t think you have nothing to say. Your actions speak volumes. Tomes of chronicles of volumes.

You can never say things simply.

Things: simply.

And you have a terrible sense of humor! 

God. I can never stay mad.

You mean a great deal to me, Owen.

I need to hear that more.

Love you.

He doesn’t respond. I knew he wouldn’t.

I walk into the pub nearly an hour late. I’m still surprised he got there first.Tapping on my phone, I slide into the chair across from him. Only when I’m finally done do I pull out a pen and start writing on a napkin.

Why did you want to see me Moritz.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Our conversation is long and fruitless. Frankly, it just leaves me exhausted. He’s constantly busy; am I not allowed to be?

Eventually, I fill up the last space on the napkin.

Have to go, DJing downtown.

He offers to come. And though he’s abysmal at reading sign language, I refuse to pull out another napkin; it’ll just invite more conversation.

I have to repeat myself, but he gets the message.

“I don’t want you to.”

I manage to leave without revealing my feelings once.

He shows up at my apartment a few days later. Fieke leaves immediately.

We exchange small smiles as the atmosphere slowly shifts from fear to comfort and back again. 

“What are you up to?” He sits next to me and gingerly places his head on my shoulder. 

I turn my computer screen away, before belatedly realizing the movement was pointless. He can’t see screens.

I type into my computer, the electronic voice reading my answer. “I set up a text-based role-playing forum. Weeks ago.”

His expression turns surprised, then vaguely interested. When he questions me further, I explain the premise to him. “This is an MORPG about the lives of superhuman kids created in a secret laboratory on the edge of Germany’s Tharandt Forest. Set a decade ago.” 

He sits up, borderline panicked. “Beg pardon?”

It’s where he lost his eyes- as a child stuck in a laboratory that his mother ran. They were trying to fix his heart, he told me. They altered his genetic code when he was only a fetus. Obviously, it failed. He not only lost his eyes, but his heart doesn’t work properly either. He still uses a pacemaker. 

The scientists experimented on other kids too. Dozens, now scattered across the world- each with a different mutation. 

I’m not one of them.

I explain further, “I’m trying to connect with the kids you knew…”

“How could you do this?”

I half close my laptop. This isn’t what I wanted. 

“I did this for you. I thought you’d want to meet the others.”

“No. I only wish to meet one of them.” 

As he slowly inches away, I understand.

Of course. 

A boy he’s been writing to for nearly two years. Who he’s known for longer than he’s known me. A boy who lives over 8,000 km away, in the middle of America. A boy who I wrote to recently. 

The boy who helped me create this forum. 

I wonder if he knows. 

I can’t bring myself to ask.

Our argument is long and by the end I thought I’d run out of both patience and misery. But when I kick him out and slam the door, I sob.

The next time I see him, I’m with a boy who introduced himself as Max. We’re standing outside his university. It’s the same one Moritz goes to. 

When Moritz comes near us, I can tell that something’s off. He reacts far too slowly, walks unsteadily. Max doesn’t see a problem. He walks forward, claps Moritz on the back.

“Nice to see you. This is… well, he’s very quiet. I didn’t get his name.”

“His name’s Owen,” he responds. 

I don’t bother signing.

The last time I see Moritz is at the airport- overall, a fitting spot for a goodbye. Fieke is leaving with him. Somehow, they ended up working everything out. I know now that we weren’t meant to.

Others from the forum came to meet him; he ended up using it after all. They’re the ones who helped him locate his mother. He’s leaving for America to meet her. Maybe he’ll see the boy too.

He turns to me last. I can tell he wants to speak, so I hold up a finger. Scrawling in a notebook, I hold it out to him.

Moderator. Username bachandbeyond 

Like the others, I introduced myself using my titles from the forum.

“Owen.” 

I can feel his regret. 

“All you’ve done. The board. This flight. I could thank you a thousand times, and you’d deserve more.”

I’m trying to pinpoint my feelings. I’m not vexed, or even sad anymore. It’s bittersweet. There’s nothing left of us, is there?

“Have I ever known you, Owen?”

Maybe not.

But you heard me.