#like their mentors cant step in

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

I AM IMAGINING- AND I LOVE-

Tim eating popcorn and listening to Bart is rambling on about the indie TV show they're watching, meanwhile listening in on the rest of Young Justice ganging up on Batman outside the tower.

Then while mid fight Jason pulls up, watches Kon shatter a cement pillar near B's head and he just waves, greets some of the YJ team and then watlz into the tower to join in movie night visitation.

Give me Bruce who in a furious tone yells out "JASON" but it isn't Jason who responds, its Tim- Because even after so many years, he still hasn't gotten used to B calling him by his real name.

[megamindsupremacy]

I know a common conception of Miles’ Peter Parker is like. If only Peter had survived, he would have understood me. Peter wouldn’t be treating me like these other Spider-men. My Peter would have understood. Which is, of course, an idea I love, because Miles desperately needs more people in his corner after the events of ASTV.

But what if Miles’ Peter wasn’t like that? What if RIPeter came back and he was just like all those other Spider-Men, but different? What if Miles if convinced Peter is going through a “came back but wrong” plotline and Miles just has to find some cure to make Peter magically understand but Peter didn’t come back wrong. He came back exactly where he left off- watching some scared little kid who doesn’t know how to handle his powers get in way over his head. So Peter is handling it exactly like he handles every other problem he faces- confidently, perfectly, because he’s been Spider-Man for the past sixteen years and even though it killed him he’s still good at his job.

What if Peter is also convinced he’s different? He’s not like those other Spider-Men, he’s different, he died and came back, he’s in this kids’ corner even when nobody else is because same-universe Spider-Men have to stick together, right kiddo? And Miles is so desperate for validation and he trusts his Peter implicitly like no other Spider-Man because he’s built him up in his head as a perfect Spider-Man who doesn’t make mistakes. But even if they’re together against the Spider-Society, that doesn’t mean Peter is respecting Miles as Spider-Man in his own right like he needs to. And now Miles can’t acknowledge it either

[certainlynotasimp]

OH MY GOD. THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED IN MY PILLOW BECAUSE OF YOUR NEW SUNNY FIC AGDGJAEGAJAVSG ITS SOSOSOS CUTE I CANT BREATHEHEHEHEHE. it got me thinking…sunny and miggy are perfect for the one bed trope 😭😭😭😭😭 just imagine miggy acting like it doesn’t effect him, sleeping in the same bad as sunny. i’m already giggling thinking about it. PLEASE WRITE A FIC ABOUT IT WHEN YOU HAVE THE TIME 😭🙏

As Warm As You.

Miguel O’Hara x Female! Reader

A/N: OMG! Thank you so much for the love and the request! 💕🤍 I personally never read anything from this trope, but I think I made something that can satisfy your fluffy craving😅. But I added some Sunny lore, so maybe this will make up for my ignorance. I’m also sorry it’s kinda short.

A/N: I haven’t seen the movie yet, but this shouldn’t be harmed by it maybe. Also I would like to say that I am using Google Translate for the Spanish phrases I use, so if you are fluent in Mexican Spanish (I think that’s what you call phrases and sayings more common in Mexico.), please comment some criticism my way. Thank you!🤍

Warnings: Trauma, Nightmares, comfort, fluffy bits, One Bed, Miguel is a secret softie, No Use of YN ((Sunny is her nickname, not her name name)), Female pronouns, Google Translate Spanish, Established relationship?

——————-

“Ben?…Ben!”

The little spider’s scream cuts through the screeching sirens. The smog hung around the air as the dying flames stained the sky. Too many flames…Too many places to be at once.

The red staining the dark costume caused bile to build up as the search becomes more desperate.

I have to find him.

The dull pain from nails bending and breaking as the rumble falls around her shaking frame. The choked panting caused the Doctor to find his friend quite easily. His friend desperately searching for something. Someone.

Why can’t I find him?

The question is answered with a patch of dark hair appears under a pile of rumble, the tips stained in red. There was so much…why is there so much…

A howl of pain rings out of the young woman’s throat as she clings to the body, her mentor just steps behind her, helpless as to how he can help her.

No one can help her. Like how no one helped her Ben.

——

A faint flash of orange alerts the sleeping man out of his endless dream. He looks around and doesn’t notice anyone at first. Miguel sighs, his paranoia running wild as he almost thought an enemy broke into his apartment, not that it would be a first. As he lays back down to sleep, a slight drag against the floor brings the hairs on the back of his neck to life.

He may not have a spider-sense, but he certain knew when someone was watching him. His talons burrow at as the sound patters closer to his bed. With out hesitation, he lunges towards the noise, his hands catching the form of an invisible figure as he rams them into the wall. A yelp with a whiff of vanilla and lavender stops him from ripping the invisible person’s throat out.

“Cariño?…” Miguel whispers as he retracts his claws. A faint whimpering emerges from the solid unseen being in front of him as her body materializes in the moonlight. The lines of her spider suit glowing an ethereal green as her mask disintegrates, revealing her tear stained face.

“What are you doing?” His eyebrows furrow as he looks at her suspiciously, despite knowing that she was the only one he knows wouldn’t hurt him. His mind blurs his confusion and frustration as he steps back to allow her to recover from being slammed into the wall. Certainly there wasn’t a big enough emergency that the beloved residential ray of sunshine would leave her room at The Lobby to break into his dimension, and bedroom to come get him.

“You know better than to use the gizmo to…” His scolding comes to a halt when the young woman hugs his figure, burning her head into his firm chest.

His shirt becomes wet with her tears as she sobs. The realization hits him as she whimpers into his touch.

She had the dream again.

No. She had the memory again.

His arms wrapped around her short frame as he buried his nose into her hair. Her scent filled the hole of sorrow her cries burned into him. As he rubs her back, her cries eventually stopped as she pulls away from him, an apology already waiting on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Miggy…it was really bad this time…” She mutters as she tries wiping her tears away as she forces a shy smile.

She felt ashamed for bothering him. Miguel was a busy man and she could have just stayed in her room at The Lobby, but the screams were too much.

His screams were too much.

Miguel doesn’t respond as he heads over to his dresser, pulling open a drawer. His face remaining emotionless as he retrieves a sweatshirt that sparked her familiarity.

The old gray crew neck sweatshirt with a fraying collar and mysterious stains along the sleeves. The old golden initials of NYU were cracked and picked apart due to many trips in the wash and anxious tendencies. A faint blush appears as she remembers the first time she ever saw that sweatshirt, the memory being one of her favorite…it was the first time she felt so warm since that day…

Miguel attracts her attention again when he rolls up the fabric in his hands and forces the neck over her head. Her hair sticking awkwardly as she peers up at Miguel in awe at how caring he was despite his annoyed expression.

“Brazos arriba, Sunshine.” He whispers as he helps her arms through the sleeves. She blindly follows him like a student being instructed. The taller spider stands back as he raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“I appreciate that you enjoy the suit I made you, mi luz.” Miguel states with a slight teasing smile. “But you probably wanna be more comfortable for bed.”

“Oh yea…” The small spider blushes in embarrassment as she disintegrates her suit back into her gizmo device. A shiver travels up her spine as the cold air on her legs, leaving her almost exposed except for the old sweatshirt.

“Now then,” Miguel sighs as he walks back over to his bed and crawls back under the covers. “I have several meetings in the morning, so I need to sleep.”

The little spider shuffles in her spot for a few moments as Miguel closes his eyes, getting ready to sleep again. With a nail between her teeth, the girl heads for the door to go find the couch when Miguel clears his throat. She turns back to look at him when she sees the covers beside him pulled back. Miguel’s open eye glaring at her as he groans. “It would be a lot easier for me to leave in the morning if you are in here and not in my way.”

A warm smile forms on her face as she excitedly comes into his bed. Miguel’s front facing her as his burgundy gaze burns with false annoyance and exhaustion. Miguel sighs as he feels the smaller being’s weight snuggles into his broad chest as expected.

“Thank you, Miggy.” She whispers. Her eyes peering up at him with gratitude and an emotion that only shines for him, his own secret that he will die to keep to himself.

Miguel rolls his eyes as his eyes meet hers, his warm cheeks hidden by the darkness. “Go to sleep, Cariño. You’re gonna need it for training.”

She giggles as she wraps her arms around his waist like a teddy bear. “Sweet Dreams, mi bonita araña..” She mumbles as she closes her eyes. His warmth fills the coldness of her nightmares as sleep draws her to peaceful breaths. Miguel remains frozen for a few moments as he makes sure she is deep in REM sleep before his gaze softens.

His rapidly beating heart acts as her lullaby as he places a kiss on her crown.

“Sweet dreams, mi vida…” He whispers into her scalp as his arms loom around her, acting as her shield before he slips into a sweet slumber in his light’s embrace.

[princessbrunette]

how do you feel about flirting with aotc!anakin? whether it’s established relationship flirting or you’re just getting to know one another or whatever. i’m rly interested in seeing how you’d decide to write a younger (maybe more naive?) version of anakin. make it as dirty/smutty/suggestive as you want, i love anything you put out

(us acting like we weren’t giggling in dms about this 😝)

okay but yes.

flirting with him is so fun because… he’s a slut idc. i guess i understand when people wanna present him as some shy virgin but also like… did we even watch the same movie? aotc ani was bricked up for the entire 2hours and 22 minutes in this essay i will-

when you’re still friends — flirting with him is so much fun because he’s barely keeping it together. he shamelessly glances at your tits when you’re talking to him because how can he not? you’re practically begging for it with them pressed together like that, blinking up at him with faux innocent doe eyes. he’s already stiff before you’ve even been standing there for more than thirty seconds. he won’t shy away from telling you that, either.

the way you call him “ani” in that sweet breathy voice, reaching up to fix his short blonde hair. he knows your game. he stares down at you with that obscene smirk, shuffling a bit closer to you so he has a better view down your top. but soon enough, you’re pulling away slyly, putting an extra sway of the hips in your walk as you leave him to give him a show.

you have to constantly tell him to stop staring at you, because whenever you look at him he’s got this slight smile on his face — and not in the sweet romantic way, the sort of vacant and dark smile that says ‘I’m not focused on anything going on right now, because i’m imagining you creaming on my cock.’ aotc ani definitely dabbled in a fair share of holoporn, so he can get super creative with his daydreams.

maker forbid the conversation ever is lead down one of a sexual nature whilst you’re still friends — his curiosity causing him to prod and pry at your sex life, and brazenly offering to be added to your roster at a drop of a hat. “did your ex ever taste you?” he’s stepping into your space once more. you roll your eyes at his intrusiveness but shake your head anyway. “i would have. you should allow me. wouldn’t you like to see how it feels? i heard some girls compare it to heaven…” he gets impossibly closer like he’s going to kiss you but you break off the moment.

“what girls?” you frown jealously which only makes him grin boyishly and chuckle, stuttering over an explanation.

when the two of you finally end up together, you make him wait even longer to fuck you just because it’s fun — doing everything in your power to make him flustered. your favourite moment would have to be when you’d come to visit the temple for work purposes, running into anakin and his mentor obi wan. you’d been discussing something of a professional nature, ignoring the way anakin was eyefucking you as you spoke to his master. as soon as obi wan briefly leaves the room, leaving the two of you behind — you pounce, pouting and pushing yourself up against the flustered blonde.

“miss you ani, need you really bad.” you whimper quietly, being met with wide eyes and red cheeks. you take his strong, pretty hand and bring it to cup the shape of your cunt through your panties beneath your skirt. “m’so wet.” you watch ani take a jagged breath in, letting his fingers feel around for your soaked spot before you’re pulling back again, hearing obi wan returning. he gets so frustrated he has to excuse himself.

but that’s not the last you see of him that day, on your way out of the temple he ambushes you — hurrying you into a dark closet space with spare sparring mats and faulty saber hilts on shelves, lips finding purchase on your neck and his hands grabbing greedily at your ass.

“ani!”

“please— please let me fuck you.” he groans, pushing his hips against yours, hard cock pressing against your tummy. “cant you feel what you’ve done?”

“not here, in a dark closet. i would like it to be more romantic than that.” you speak between sloppy kisses, his hand coming up to gently hold your cheek still.

“well forgive me, but i don’t care too much for romance right now. you’re getting me way too excited.” he grips your waist.

“i care.” you turn your head, looking at him with a serious glint in your eyes when he pulls back. he sighs, rolling his eyes and steps back, nodding.

“very well then.” he frowns. you place your hands on his shoulders and stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

“ask obi wan for some time off, we’ll fly somewhere — can take our time. it’ll be worth it.” you smile and he exhales out his nose, nodding.

“alright alright. now don’t tease me anymore, it’s not nice.” he’s practically pouting and you giggle. it’s hard for his own smile not to break through too.

[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 1 [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> Content Warning/CW: x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. live, laugh, love 2 lesbian mothers!!

-> Trigger Warnings/TW: Eris Vanserra, mentions of racism, mentions of discrimination, mentions of forced removal from homes (cant think of the name rn), Beron Vanserra is a massive cunt.

W/C: 2.8k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: omg eris fic is here grahhh!!! the title for this comes from Vivaldi's Four Seasons Concerto album, which i do listen to while writing this, yes yes. Eris has is a massive dick, but i'd like to hope he's a massive dick for a reason that will (hopefully) be revealed better. Hopefully, reader holds him accountable & gives him a run for his money!! (you will). While reader is fem for this fic, there's no specified identity (except being from Summer Court). There are a few referrals to racism using the Courts of Prythian & the fae, so if this feels triggering or hurtful, please let me know if it feels like it's written badly/insincerely! i'm merely basing such references off of personal & researched experiences. TYSM for reading, please enjoy <3

A violin filled the studio, wafting around like a strong scent- hypnotic as you inhaled deeply, eyes shut to steel yourself and count in before your arms swung up and out, fingers and feet pointed within your ballet shoes as you began to dance. Careful, calculated steps sent you spinning around the room- the perfect prima of your time. A prime example for those who dream to even come close to your level.

In a room of fire, your movements were fluid. In a room of embers, you were a tidal wave. Your body poise and malleable as you stretched yourself alluringly to those who watched as you swayed for the sweet symphony of violins. Eyes watched you from a concealed viewing platform high above- russet spheres simmering with a flame of interest that was bound to end in a fiery mess.

“Her. I want her to perform for the Equinox.”

“She’s quite the star, isn’t she?” Your mentor nodded, eyes twinkling with pride, before he wore his favourite facade- an arrogant smirk on his lips as he inspected his manicured nails. Eris’ face was impassive, yet any trained, or similarly minded individual would see the need for greed in his russet eyes as he glared down at you, pupils flaring possessively.

“She’s my starlet, young Lord. I cannot let her perform without any… payment. She will be put through harsh training- stretching, extension of her muscles, and her diet will be limited- to ensure she is tamed and perfect for the Lord’s family. I know the Lady of Autumn thoroughly enjoys the…” He trailed off nervously as Eris held up a silencing hand, the young heir fixing him with a cold stare- despite the fire in his veins.

“Spare me. Your pocket will be stuffed accordingly. But I warn you,” With one hand he grabbed the collar of the weaker male’s shirt with a predatory grace,

 She must be perfect, or else we won’t have her, and the only old you’ll see is the Vanserra signet ring imprinted in your cheek.” His hand clenched accordingly, the Vanserra signet ring- the emblem of the Autumn Court banners carved in the pure gold, making Gustav still and nod compliantly. The heir dismissively waved for a servant to hand your instructor a list before storming out- ignoring your dancing figure.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Wrong! When we kick, our leg must come out-”

A cold hand clamped around your calf, another hand pushing just above your knee, the joint loose like a hinge. Your face was impassive- unmoving even as a small ‘pop’ echoed from somewhere in your knee. One of the junior dancers recoiled visibly, hiding her face behind her hands as a cluster of them watched you be used like a demonstration doll for your instructor.

“Stiff! Strong! Not flabby and weak. We are not caterpillars- we are butterflies. We are not brutish fires, we are?”

“Dancing flames.” The dancers replied in a drone of young feminine voices, with a few meek boys who looked like they were on the verge of clawing their eyes out. Gustav was being a right pain in the ass as always, but today he seemed more sharpened. Another lecture, another scolding, but it was always,

“For the better! I do this for your own good, my dears! When the Equinox arises and we are in front of your esteemed Lord, I know his lordship would enjoy seeing his dancers disciplined. Lean and poise. Controlled.”

The cold hand that held your leg squeezed once in warning- ‘I’m talking about you too’, before letting go, as your instructor sighed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“That is why we dance the way we dance, and why I speak the way I do. Now leave me! And warm down appropriately or I will personally see to it that the muscles you take for granted will tear.” A curl of the lip in a low, warning snarl, before he waved with a sweeter disposition. 

“Adequate work today, my dears!” Footsteps echoed as the younger dancers left first, whispers filling the halls as they eagerly complained about their instructor. The older ones bid polite greetings of farewell as they followed, until you were the last to leave. The prima. Gus liked to call you the ‘Summer jewel in the Autumn box’.

“Ah, ah, ah! I mean it, my jewel. No going off and doing your own thing.” You pause. His voice carried a weariness of someone twice his age, before he covered it up with his usual airy arrogance, “The Lord will be hosting important families at this gathering. Something big is on the horizon and I know he will be watching you closely.”

Ah, yes. Kicking out all the non-fae and those who hail from other courts. The nationalist prick seemed to have no lost winks of sleep as he commanded his soldiers to haul families out in the night, dispatching them at random borders with no cares for the creatures that lurked with a taste for fae flesh.

“I’m aware, Gus. No sudden movements, no flashy shows of skill, Mother forbid I reveal I’m not some worthless foreigner with no talent.” You mocked mirthlessly, earning a sigh of defeat. 

“Wait a moment.” He roused, and the fingers that curled around your bag strap tightened slightly, your pointed ears twitching at the tone of his voice. But you slowly turned, a scowl on your unimpressed face as you nodded airly.

“You were selected personally to perform for the Vanserra family. Something about honouring the magic in the Autumn Court territory with dance and such.”

You paused, mind blanking, yet your demeanour remained even, “And you’re looking at me like that, why?”

He winced, knowing how keen you were to snap at any male- or anyone, really, who rubbed you up the wrong way.

“They left a list of… expectations. As in, mandatory requirements or they won’t let you perform. They expect you to be… um… Be polite, and uh, as he put it, ‘socially acceptable’. Speak in turn and only when spoken to-”

“He?” You snapped, visibly unimpressed and ready to pull out completely. What kind of prick-

“I don’t let you anywhere near me on a good day, Gustav. What in the Cauldron makes you think I’ll just-”

“They’re offering coffers of gold. The Equinox… well, after Amarantha… they need to regenerate the magic of the Autumn Court specifically, so they want to use the Equinox.”

You cringed at the mention of that sick tyrant, yet you weren’t going to just roll over and lie down because someone jingled a purse of gold. “What of the Spring Court and Calanmai?”

“I didn’t ask, because I know my place. And don’t start. I didn’t exactly feel like getting ripped a new one by the son of the Autumn Lord, [Y/N]-”

“Son? As in, Eris Vanserra? That oaf- that misogynistic, foul-mouthed, mentally decayed pig was here? And he spoke to you about me?” You snarled, lip curling back as you advanced forward slowly like a fox- a wolf, eyes narrowed.

“He’s offering coffers on behalf of his father, [Y/N]! Enough for you to be paid out well, and then some for the studio.” Damn right he put you first on the pay list, otherwise he wouldn’t have a damned head. Though, you personally couldn’t give a flying fuck about the Vanserra coffers. You wanted nothing of it, as tempting as it might have sounded.

“Get Nerissa to do it.”

“He wanted you-”

“I thought the family wanted me.”

“I… oh, fuck it- Fine! Eris came here alone! Came here alone, saw you, insisted on you with this list in mind and he said either you or no one at all.”

You or no one. You or nothing. You made a retch of disgust, laughing at the mental image. Who did he think he was? “Then I will snap my leg in half and shatter my bones into teeny tiny pieces for good measure.”

“[Y/N]-”

“I will swan dive off the nearest staircase.”

“No.”

“I’m not performing personally for a good-for-nothing family that are backwards in everything they do.” You reaffirmed, shaking your head, but Gustav stepped forward.

“[Y/N].”

“They singled out the non-Autumn Court dancer to perform for them. What powers do I possess to help the court that doesn’t even want us? A ‘summery breeze’? A ‘foreigner’s’ complexion? Absolutely not-”

“Please. We…” Silence, before a sigh. A sigh that made you glare silently. “I received a letter last night from the building owner. I’ve been falling behind on payments, and Beron’s financiers are… hungry- they see this old building and want to knock it down for something else. Something miserable and drab.”

You frowned, blinking at your instructor. Well, fuck. Your shared silence was long- his pleading, hopeful silence swirled like smoke with your prideful refusal, that melted like wax the longer it lingered.

“... Fine. But only because I enjoy this damned studio.”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your life was, what you thought at least, a mixed bag. You were brought up in an orphanage- housing mostly Autumn children, all who seemed to smell the ‘impostor’ blood in your bones, weeding you out as an odd one out. Your appearance led the governess of the orphanage to believe you hailed from the Summer Court- as did russet and teal muslin you were wrapped in. You repurposed the seemingly sentimental piece of fabric into a scarf- letting it rest around your neck currently, as you walked down the path of the bustling town.

You were lucky to be recognised for your artistic performative abilities, earning a grant to allow you to perform in the Autumn Court’s national dance academy, as well as live in one the apartments they provided. Two old ladies next door adopted you as their honorary daughter, and you were grateful for their familial company, even if there was no blood relation. One of them, Ordelia, even pushed you to study at the grand scholar’s library, using her former connections to grant you access to all the education you could need.

It wasn’t wonderful. But it could be worse. At least you were making it on your own, sort of.

“Afternoon little doe! Will you come for dinner? Delia-dearest made pumpkin and feta soup the way you like it!” ‘Madame’ Primrose, one of your makeshift mothers, waved to you from her balcony, and you offered a small wave.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’m on a strict diet of greens and grains.” You pat your stomach with a sympathetic wince- greens and grains. Like a bloody farm animal. The silver haired fae seemed to nod sympathetically and wave a hand.

“You’re always welcome, dearie.” 

You stopped for a moment, looking at an old fae sitting on the corner of the little road, a vendor selling flowers. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, staining the sky pink amidst the grey from the overcast weather that settled. You smiled at the older male who offered you a bouquet of lavender stalks and crocus bulbs.

Pretty.

Your eyes widened slightly as you beheld the bouquet, cradling it against your arm while you fished out payment. As you dropped some coins into his hand, a scream made you both look to one of the older complexes, where a woman was pulled out by some Autumn Court guards with two wailing children behind her. Any passersby walked quicker, ducking their heads, and when you looked back at the old male you realised he had been watching you. He gave you a nod, as if you’d know what it meant, and you swallowed before walking past, your head lower than before.

Beauty was hard to come by in the Autumn court, no matter how colourful it looked.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Oh, it’s nasty business, it really is. My darling Ordelia was telling me how shameful he is- that Beron Vanserra. Nasty business. I remember his father- he wasn’t much better, but certainly more handsome.” You had succumbed to the dinner with your neighbour-mothers, though your portion of soup was smaller, as the sprouts and stalks you miserably chewed filled most of your stomach.

“You know, I could have married Beron.”

Your eyes widened, hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you didn't know whether to choke or chortle. “Primrose!” Ordelia huffed,

“I could have, you know! But I wasn’t interested in a man with no morals.” ‘Madame’ Primrose sighed wistfully, and you laughed softly behind your mouth while her wife rolled her eyes. While Ordelia had raven hair in a tight, disciplined bun, Primrose wore hers in a loose braid that cosied on her shoulder- her silver hair glistening in the gentle faelight of the small dining room you all sat in.

“You know, I hear that Lord Vanserra is looking for some pretty girls to match his sons. The heir will be attending the Equinox alone, can you believe it?” Primrose hummed, thriving off the gossip, but Ordelia watched you with a knowing stare- amused at the soft snort you let out.

“How fares the paper? Arwen mentioned that you were hitting some brilliant points. Politics might be your strong suit, should you grow tired of glamorous costumes and fast dances.” The Autumn-born female brought up your most recent studies, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she heard her wife scoff.

At a first glance, you used to wonder how they could possibly be mated. Ordelia, with her firm, reserved rigidness and disciplined personality, and Primrose- a Spring Court fae who was gossipy and eclectic, always buzzing with something to share. Ordelia was a former scholar for Beron’s family before she retired, while Primrose was the prima ballerina of her time, moving to Autumn in search of a grander role where she met her mate. Their love-story made you sigh a little every time you heard it, but you shook your head of distractions as you answered Ordelia.

“It’s um… definitely going. I feel a little foolish writing it but every time I hear about another family getting kicked out, I get even angrier, and determined to write more. Although… um, Gustav spoke to me about… performing a solo dance for the Vanserras. A part of the Equinox celebration-”

Primrose gaped at that, as if she had been asked to dance herself, “Oh, little dove! Well, what did you say? You worked for that position- I’ll tell you that for free! I can’t fit on my fingers the times I had to remedy your torn muscles. Did you say yes? Did you accept?” 

Ordelia nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her soup before chuckling softly. “I would not be surprised if your radiance catches the heir’s eye. You’d be a different splash compared to the other dames he usually parades around on his arm. I think you’d certainly give him a run for his father’s money.”

“Ordelia dearest! What makes you think our little summer shell would even consider him?” Primrose voiced the disdain etched on your face, and you joked dryly, “I didn’t think you believed in fate and whatnot.” The Autumn female scoffed softly, shaking her head, “I don’t believe in fate, or destiny. I believe in the laws of attraction. You are everything his family lack, thus making you a match. Opposites attract.” You glanced at Primrose, and both of you made a childish noise of disgust as you shuddered, shaking your head as you finished off your meal.

“I’d rather have a kelpie as a bedside companion than Eris Vanserra.” You muttered, before taking all three plates to be cleaned. Laughter sounded softly behind you, and as you felt a small smile curl on your face, you abhorred the idea of being anywhere near the Lord of the Autumn Court and his family.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

After bidding your goodnights, you retired to your own apartment, basking happily in the moonlight that shone through the silent space. Peace and quiet. The best way to finish off a bleak day. Your calendar stared you in the face, the Equinox marked in an angry scribble of orange ink. ‘End of the week!!’

What a day. You rubbed your face, feeling a stirring in your stomach as you thought about the Autumn Court. You glanced at the daily paper slid under your door, seeing Eris’ face on the front page- his smug, arrogant, wicked, slightly crooked, unnecessarily charming grin staring you in the face, making your stomach tug. ‘Eugh. Imagine being fated to that beast?’ You’d rather eat glass.

You looked at the paper, baring your teeth at the male’s face before ripping it off and crumpling it up. A swift kick sent it across the small apartment, under your couch, and stayed there for a while as you grumbled softly. You got ready for bed eagerly, excited for the day to be over, only to reach under the small sofa it had rolled under and pick it up again, making a face at it before leaving it on the small table.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: i think that's all for now!! readers, pls let me know how we feel about this!!! (privately, in comments, on inbox, i don't mind)!! also in search for a beta reader [i draft everything on google docs, don't hurt me] (T-T)

[pinkandpurple360]

am i the only one who's not intersted in "is stolas good or bad father" discoure because in either cases their relationship seem empty and shollow

the only thing we know about them is they spent time togther sometimes they don't. but what is in they exactly do in that time except singing lullabies and going to parks . like sure when you're a parent you are your child's best friend but you're also their mentor teacher ,nurse and thearpy should i assume that stolas is good at all those things just because he play with his daughter when she was young .

also i'm speaking as somoene who is in age similiar to via's age (today is my 18th birthday if sinsmas is octavia birthday eposide that makes me 2 monthes older than her) even tho the teen/father relationship would be diffrent from family to other , most teenager like to distane themselves from their parents and rather to discouver who they are outside their parents wings and not the other way around espacially if they disappoint them. the fact that via is still too dependent on her father makes me think her needs wasn't totally fulfill as child , but again those relationship diffrent from someone to other so i might be wrong .

(also those who call octavia selfish spoiled child to defend stolas don't realize they're calling out stolas becase he raised her like that)

That’s fair enough. All the relationships are pretty shallow. I can tell stolas was very involved in his daughter’s life when she was little but took a step back when she grew older. And Octavia seems as though she could’ve been depressed even before the cheating, which only made everything worse.

I’d like some idea of their daily routine because my goodness. The three of them just hang around the palace doing absolutely nothing. What is stolas job??

As for teacher and mentor? Pfft!!! Yeah he’s supposed to be teaching her magic, but their spellbook is GONE 29 nights out of 30. I think vivzie forgot that this means stolas cant teach her any spells! I realised this after @arteicetb s video on the subject, the only channel I’ve seen that has properly gone into his problems as a parent in my opinion.

I’d like to see just a few scenes of Octavia engaging in her hobbies and talking to her friends. Example: creating some taxidermy and speaking about why she likes preserving the image of life in something that is dead. It is a strange practice but it is a form of art with an interesting philosophy behind it. Demonic zoology is also just a really cool world building concept? Octavia loves the strange dark and macabre according to Instagram but until that’s put in the show it isn’t properly canon. She’s also trying to write her own music.

This is perhaps random but I’d love a scene like this, Stella teaching Octavia how to hold a royal ball, and all the stuffy requirements that come with it.

- you must wear several corsets and frills

- expressions must be just so

- don’t sit a Marquis above a Duke

- curtsy to royalty, wave to nobility

- do not allow entry of commoners. No exceptions.

While Via struggles with the status quo and traditions of things because stolas has raised her to be a normal gen-z child. However he knows this is a temporary lifestyle until she’s 18 and makes her “debutante” ball. Octavia did not know this. Stella knows that stolas has only given her the childhood he wanted, the life of a commoner, which has set her up for failure. Octavia doesn’t even know her parents had an arranged marriage because stolas insisted on lying to her for 18 years for the sake of a “normal life”

Octavia entering adulthood without her father, and reflecting on both the good parts and the bad parts of his parenting, could be a really interesting direction for her. She is none of the things her father’s fans say she is. His fans are only protecting the flaws of their precious little near-40-year-old boy from his teenage daughter.

[zorosq]

my princess ; roronoa zoro

↻ fluff, jealous zoro, strong reader, some flirting, grammatical errors probably

↻ pairing ↬ zoro (opla) x f!reader!

anonymous asked: I hope I’m not late and this request is kinda confusing 😂but I was wondering if please a one piece live action Zoro x shyreader x exBuggy? Like she’s a princess & a powerful swordswoman who’s a former protege of Mihawk who he knows she’s ready. Like the crew are taking bets who will win but deep down the winner is shyreader because of her former mentor who train her really well. Strangely I don’t wear dresses, just black leggings and oversized t shirts or oversized long sleeves 😂just fluff?

a/n i did my best! so i hope that this was good :)) (quick apology, i cant write fight scenes) also had to make reader older since buggy is old and it bugs me to have large age gaps lmaooo

it was simple and straightforward. yet, you don't understand the scene before you. surely your eyes are playing tricks on you? "hey, princess. long time no see," the clown smirked, waving his hand that was floating mid air. "she's no one's princess," zoro interrupted, standing protectively in front of you.

buggy let out a loud cackle. "seems like you've got a new toy to play with," he taunt. "zoro's not a toy. he's my partner, my best friend, my love," you countered. "ah, love. haven't heard of it for a while now," buggy turned his body away from you. "let me fight you, sweetheart," the clown grinned.

zoro was about to unsheathe his sword until you stood in front of him. "i'll take care of him," you said. zoro only grunted before step back, standing beside nami and luffy.

luffy suddenly closes in to nami's ear. "should we bet and see who wins?" luffy smiled mischievously while nami smirked. "we both know who would win this fight,"

.

"you were so cool!" luffy boast. "yeah, y/n! i didn't know that you could do that," nami smiled. you waved your hand bashfully. "it was nothing, really," you rubbed your nape shyly. zoro smiled slightly and gave you a nod, agreeing with what everyone had said.

"it was not nothing! we made a bet to see who would win the fight!" luffy smiled proudly. "we were betting on you, of course," he whispered in your ear. you chuckled softly and shook your head. "no wonder you and zoro are basically glued to the hip," nami snickered. luffy nodded enthusiastically. "yeah! both of you are so good with this sword stuff!"

"it's no wonder for her since she used to trained under mihawk," zoro muttered. "who's mihawk?" luffy tilted his head slightly. "the world strongest swordsman," you answered with a quiet voice. luffy's eyes widened. "woah! he sounds like a cool guy!" the rubber-man said excitedly. you smiled slightly at his words. "yeah, he is,"

zoro pulled you aside for a bit. "so... princess, huh?"

you chuckled awkwardly. "yeah... we broke up because of how childish he is," you smiled. "and when was that?" he tilted his head. "well... last year? we didn't even last for a year..." you chuckled. "i hate that petname..." you groaned, feeling your face slightly flushed. "but what if i call you that instead?"

"my princess," he whispered.

[philtstone]

24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son. 

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge. 

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line. 

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy. 

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says. 

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely. 

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling. 

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch. 

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment, 

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?” 

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says. 

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –” 

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him  through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door. 

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out. 

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch. 

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead. 

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?” 

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.” 

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely. 

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy. 

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager. 

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!” 

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical. 

“No!” 

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!” 

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration. 

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine. 

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.   

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door. 

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither. 

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago. 

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault. 

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.  

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely. 

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard. 

[moonshynecybin]

Oooooo post recon rosqhez stepping in mines they absolutely are nutters about it. But. What if. One of their own. Cele or David. Or whoever else if we don't want to throw the babies under the bus. But a future student of either the academy or marc is having a media hunt. Marc catching vale mid rant or incensed on behalf of the kid and just has to leave because no no he cant see this empathy. Or vale coming across marc consoling the student, teaching how to breathe in breathe out don't let them see think of the track of being free and nothing else. Vale has to just leave before he pukes.

i think it would be objectively sexy if a rosquez-esque rivalry/idoltry situation develops between marc and young moon-eyed david alonso... how would marc handle that... what lessons would he learn from how it went between him and vale... because marc has said he has no friends on the grid !!!! and hes said he knows at some point his time as an athlete will come to pass and all the lovely higher brained capricorn-moon ass shit that hes said about his career, but hes SO obsessive and so crazy (hes had to hang on to this sport with his TEETH) and i dont think it would be a sepang-level repudiation (thats vale's special brand of game) but i COULD see him locked between all of these emotions and desires AND having been a mentor to this kid in moto2/3 (vale handled his merchhhhh) and the end of his career and this kid is behaving JUST fucking like him and i WONDER. if he doesnt tilt his head in the mirror some days and see someone who looks a lot like vale

[ganondoodle]

as i was awake in the middle of the night for like 2 hours bc i felt sick i had more somewhat random totk thoughts

one being that i really hate how raurus response to concerned zelda is, after sonia died in that almost funny how little impactful it was way, "im sure you are here for a reason" (actually, i hate how often this sentence is used in general to .. idk i guess its supposed to be inspiritational???)

bc what does that mean actually? him saying that to someone who got there absolutely by accident really just sounds like "i dont care go figure it out yourself bc i dont want to think about anything concerning you or your troubles lol" i guess its meant to sound like OOOOH fate has BROUGHT you here bc you have to furfill a role you dont know yet (spoiler its being a sacrifice girl with no personality) and besides me hating the 'inescapable fate' trope in general (at least the way its usually done in these games, which is not to struggle against it but willingly accept whatever you are told and pretend thats good) its really jsut goddamn boring and is really only an excuse to well .. ignore her and her trouble; shouldnt you, if you were actually such a cool guy like the game wants me to believe so bad, do everything in your power to get zelda back to her own world before shes pulled even further into the war you caused now that her only ""mentor"" that could help her get more use of her pretty much useless sudden powers is gone too?? i know shes basically dead wife sonia replacement (can of worms ugh) but it still grinds my gears whenever i think of that cutscene, bc i cant help but hear it as the lamest excuse in existence to not care about her and just kinda .. see what happens which in this case means leave zelda completely on her her own since both rauru and mineru die as well (honestly shouldnt rauru have thought about like .. any plan to defeat gan besides dying himself, given hes the oh so cool and goodest guy king whos only mistake was not stabbing gan the second he stepped into their kathedral castle thing, like even if you had a plan it can still fail but it seemed like he just kinda went in with a handful of people that didnt seem to know each other at all, never got names or faces -or unique voices for that matter- to fight gan face to face inlcuding the girl that came from a different time and had nothing to do with any of this conflict and couldnt even really control her sudden new powers just seems pretty stupid)

thought 2

how totk really feels like botw but for the people who didnt like shiekah tech, its not a sequel, its botw again, but version of only sonau, its like a pokemon game that had two versions but one has weirdly incoherent story and acts like the other never existed jsut as a whole its like retreading the same points but worse, all shiekah tech that was so integral to the world and had such a long history just vanishing and no one caring about any of it like it never happened, HELL the titans were called divine beasts in english but i guess they werent divine or important enough to keep around LOL champions WHO and isntead a never before seen or even heard of race for that matter showing up and planting their ass in every place the shiekah were before, dare i say it feels weirdly manipulative, like either them or some outside force erasing every fact about the ancient shiekah and replace them with sonau stuff bc they are the hot new shit now

this is a point that just doesnt stop bothering me, how the shiekah tech seemed so carefully designed and integrated into botws world and story, its a difficult to keep balance after all, integrating high tech stuff into a medieval setting, but they made it work! and then totk comes around and throws a bunch modern day tech into it puts some vague greenish stone filter on its exterior and call that even better more ancient tech; why did they even bother to make pottery inspired laser shooting spider legged robots so well integrated when they throw a car and rockets into the next game without a thought and call it a day, what was the fucking point

it feels like someone was dead set on having a set of legos thrown into the game it had no place in, if you want players to build whatever they want make a building game instead!! especially if you are just gonna throw it in with seemingly no consideration how out of place it feels togehter with the fACT THAT YOU ALREADY HAD AND ANCIENT HIGH TECH CIVILIZATION WITH A VERY DISTINCT AESTHETIC THAT WAS ALREADY WELL INTEGRATED INTO THE WORLD YOU ARE PLANNING TO REUSE WITH ALOT OF MYSTERY AND UNKOWN STUFF ABOUT THEM TO EXPLORE FURTHER YOU COULD HAVE USED!! but i guess they just "didnt want to play with you anymore" and that so much so that they went out of their way to erase every trace of it, i dont think the words shiekah tech are ever used in the game, and the purah pad and her towers just drive me more isnane bc they are the same shit but called different and also much worse, liek the purah pad isnt some more developed shiekah stone, no its a glorified camera with a teleport function and thats it

(i know i said this before but i really cant stand how obsessed every single NPC is with sonau shit, you get told to your face every second line of dialog that they are so cool and are so mysterious that it just makes me annoyed of them even more, the game is obsessed with shoving them everywhere and telling you over and over you too should obsess over them, they werent weird like that about the shiekah stuff in botw?? the biggesst talking point in botw was calamity ganon ..... which makes sense and in totk its like ... gan is mentioned what, in a newspaper article??? once???and then not even by name i think???)

aside from that big point which will never let me go, its also just .. its not moving forward anything, it actively walks BACK the progress that was made in botw, call me dumb but i dont really count moving one step up in the social roles of each race as a character development (for the side characters like the champions desc- ahem SAGES) but mainly zelda ... god how dirty she was done, totk pretty explicitely makes her regress any development she made in botw aside from she likes link uwu and some people like her too, but also not enough to notice that that weird zelda being all evil and weird isnt her (INLCUDING THE CHAMP- SAGES WHO YOU ARE SUPPOSEDLY FRIENDS WITH??? you dont have to be a genius to pick up on that my god, were you all given the mc dumbo potion or what)

she gets put back to square one, back into the little itty bitty princessy maiden role forced upon her by her royal parentage, this time rauru edition, back into a white little dress, back into the scared puppy eyed teenager, back into a situation she cant handle, back into losing everyone around her (tho honestly botw made me care more about rhoam than totk did about rauru), back into being forced to do a big sacrifice- but worse actually

in botw she went to FIGHT AND HOLD GANON IN THE CASTLE SO LINK HAD TIME TO RECOVER AND IT WOULDNT DESTROY THE LAND!! and you are telling me in totk rauru takes up her botw role and she bascially killed herself to ... restore the mastersword.

......... she ... she did that only to be a glorified version of the stone pedestal in the forest. and then she gets returned to normal itty bitty girly no problem via magic sparkle beam at the end and

DOESNT

EVEN

REMEMBER.

it really is just botw but worse, you even get yet another ghost king of hyrule to guide you around (rhoam did it better fight me ... we dont talk about the questionable choice to make himself darker skinned when posing as just some guy)

i honestly dont think i was ever truly taken aback by anythign that happened in botw, while in totk, the further i played, the more i had to fight with myself to keep the feeling of unease, disappointment and betrayal down

its such a god damn shame, totk should have stayed a DLC, i will forever mournfully dream of a game that explores more of the ancient shiekah, doesnt erase integral parts of the world, developes characters more instead of making them regress back and make them end up even less developed than at the start of the game, dives into buried secrets and mistakes of dark pages of history without giving into a weirldy nationalist(imperalisitc?) narrative and lets characters have some agency for once

if it werent for the yiga i might have actually considered refunding the game, just to be at peace with myself

anyway, aboslutely incoherent word vomit.

[cryptidclaw]

Cricketstep!

Design Notes:

I love giving enby characters beards and eyelashes i cant help it!!! Cricket only has tiny eyelashes tho :P

I gave them fluffy hair on the back of their neck, does this count as a mullet? I think they would have a mullet.

Fun fact I used the old design's face as the sketch for this one but I gave them a new pose!

Character Bio:

Cricketstep

(Cricketkit)

Nonbinary; they/them

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 8 cycles, 6 moons; 50 Hyrs

Title meaning: -step = a cat who is light on their feet; a cat who carefully thinks out their steps and actions

Warrior of Thunder Order

Mentor: Specklesnap

Mother: Dappledew

Father: Stormtail

Siblings: Downnose

Half Siblings: Star Bluefrost; Snowstorm; Dustpelt; Ravenscourge

Other notable kin: Thrushcloud (Uncle); Shriketail (nephew); Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew); Cowstep (niece); Lambcry (nephew); Ryewhisper (nephew)

Character Summary:

Like with Downnose, they dont really think of Bluefrost and Snowstorm as kin bec they were never like family growing up, they do respect them as Order mates however!

Cricket is an anxiety express and very jumpy but they are the most calm when they are focused on hunting and scouting. They love sneekin :)

They are bffs with Downnose and Mousebite, and they also tried to be close to their little brother Raven since they saw themselves in him. They could tell he was keeping secrets tho...

They are very proud of Ravenscourge when they see him all grown up!

Their gender is pretty boy (gender neutral)

They are mostly just a side character so I dont have much on em, they just vibin, I love them.

They pass away during the beginning of the second arc from illness which is made worse by the famine at the time :( , they were pretty old tho, almost to elder age!

....

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Cricketstep an au version of Cricketkit from warrior cats. They are sitting with their right side showing and their left front paw lifted. They are looking back to the left with a surprised expression of their face. They are a small short furred white cat with orange and black calico patches and orange eyes. they have a fluffy hair tuft along with longer fur on their neck, and longer fur on their chin like a beard./End ID]

[cyberdragoninfinity]

whole buncha miscellaneous arc-v Not-Lawrence/college AU notes i cant remember if i've jotted down here or not:

yuya zuzu and sylvio go to a performing arts high school. ("like in Victorious") their mascot is the hippos OF COURSE!! yuya is getting really nervous about rapidly approaching decisions he needs to make about college <3

You Show is a small local children's theater Yusho and Skip Boyle founded together (before Yusho fucked off to go do big Vegas stage shows. thats it's own kettle of fish)--yuya and zuzu work there over the summer/volunteer when theyre not busy with school work.

gong works for his dad's appliance repair business ❤

yugo's mom married yuri's dad like four years ago and now they are step-brothers and yugo and his mom get to live in yuri's house and he's being such a fucking brat about it STILL.

yugo and yuri are both college freshmen--i dont think yugo knows what he wants to do with his life other than 'drive motorcycle' but he's got time (he neeeeeeds to stop skipping class though.) rin aint got time for college, she works at the same car repair shop syrus and anna and yusei and crow work at that i REALLY NEED TO NAME SINCE IT'S BECOMING AN IMPORTANT LOCATION.

lulu is in grad school for veterinary medicine :^) i think im gonna give her pet pigeons too. she oversees the NLBA (Not-Lawrence Birding Alliance) with shay 🐦

yuri is suffering from "former gifted kid no longer smartest student in room and struggling bad" among like seven other things. he wants to get into some botany-related bio field <3 his dad is also a college professor!

declan is a college freshman too and he's got so much shit on his plate right now and his dad may have fled the country but don't even worry about it. celina is declan's cousin and im not sure what she's up to you. i think she dated anna for a while.

yuto is a game design major who recently graduated and he's so fuckign stressed about student loans but it's fine. he's chill. he's fine. he fumbled a bad bitch recently (lulu) but he's gonna be so brave about it. he fucking love ttrpgs.

dennis is a freshman theater major who's already pounced on a coveted mentorship program slot. :) his mentor is atticus :) they are THE most annoying friends in the world <3

dennis and yuri met at a fucked up conservative summer camp that was maybe actually a front for a money laundering scam and/or cult but thats a story for another time 🤸‍♂️

[lockandkeyhyena]

so. npd fireheart/star

ok so fireheart has been told he’s incredibly special and the saviour of the clans by literally everyone around him and literal god from the moment he stepped into the forest. and like, he has no reasons to disbelieve this! he *is* that special and important in universe, so it makes sense for him to develop a sense of self-importance

consider also, cinderpelt. when she is injured he thinks little of her and dwells on how it reflects on him (im such a bad mentor, its my fault she got hurt, etc) rather than thinking about the pain she must be in.

and the smoking gun- his relationship with greystripe. he is greystripes best friend, until silverstream. until greystripe reflects badly on his image and spends less time with him.

so in short. npd firestar. i rest my case

i cant take credit for all of this, someone on a wc discord server pointed this hc out to me and i latched onto it haha. shoutout to strawb3rrymeat on discord

[verdemoth]

i cant post Tune without also posting Odyssey. do not separate.

Odyssey is an engineer, formerly the director of Mission Control, and before even that e did field work. Now, e’s supposedly retired from all duties, but Odyssey refuses to leave. E wont let the new owners run the team into the ground. (and e’s still holding onto some distant hope of finding es best friend alive, or at least closure)

-> Originally Odyssey was a field researcher alongside es queerplatonic partner Tune in their 20s, until the risks of such work became apparent. E then went on to develop systems to communicate with and coordinate the research team and monitor the Otherworld from safely on the ‘reality’ side of the portal. E established Mission Control, and led it for decades.

-> Tune and Odyssey were very close for a very long time, having met in their school years. They were best friends, partners for life, two halves of a whole. It’s been some years now since Tune’s disappearance, and Odyssey’s mostly come to terms with it, but still feels his absence keenly.

-> Odyssey’s a generally kind individual but not particularly nice. E’s gruff, immensely stubborn, with a mean sarcastic streak. Some coworkers might describe em as cantankerous. But at the end of the day e’s well-intentioned and altruistic.

-> Odyssey is very, VERY bitter about the investors who bought ownership of the team from the original founders a couple years back. E hates them. E’s just WAITING for the chance to prove there’s something unscrupulous happening, e can FEEL it. E hasn’t had results yet but the vibes are rancid.

-> Though formally retired, Odyssey continues to do much of the same work e’s been doing for decades, out of spite and because e trusts few people with the systems e built. E adamantly refuses to cooperate with anyone associated with the company, which is probably directly related to es early ‘retirement’. Odyssey’s not happy about it and won’t do them any favours.

-> Odyssey is only middle aged but e feels so much older. E’s so tired. And so worried. E hopes for the best but is always prepared for the worst.

-> Odyssey’s role as director was succeeded by Maven, who e mentored. Odyssey treats them as a ward and as a friend. E respects and trusts them, but…… When the Storm hit, it was one of Maven’s first missions directing with little input from Odyssey. It was supposed to be that, anyway, before that disaster. Odyssey doesn’t blame them for what happened, but but can’t seem to talk them out of beating themself up over it. Directing the EEG is no longer Odyssey’s job so e tries to step back and let Maven make their own decisions, but they’ve obviously not dealt well with the pressure, and Odyssey can’t leave well enough alone. E has a tendency to step in and take over es old duties at the first sign of trouble in a misguided attempt to shield Maven from the trauma of handling another crisis. E doesn’t mean to imply that they’re not capable, but unfortunately they are not helping Maven’s shattered confidence and fear of making mistakes by taking control from them.

-> Odyssey is legally blind, and though es glasses can help em make out some shapes in the right conditions, in unfamiliar spaces and bad lighting e utilizes a cane to get a feel for es surroundings. While es poor eyesight is likely hereditary, e became an amputee following a severe injury on es last field mission. E opts not to use any prosthetics, finding them uncomfortable and unwieldy. E’s often accompanied by one or both of the spider shaped robots e designed and programmed to assist the exploration team, which have been retired from the field as well since suffering some damage in the Storm. Odyssey is very fond of them.

-> The larger robot, Marie, was named after Odyssey’s cousin Mariner, who also worked for the EEG for a time. The two used to be close, but have had a falling out coinciding with Tune’s presumed death and Mariner’s retirement. Xe pushed for Odyssey to quit as well, but despite xer desperation xe wouldn’t confess why xe was so adamant about it.

-> The loss of Tune hit Odyssey very hard, and e’s become quite reclusive. E tends to stick to es room when not doing other work, and would spend a lot of time alone if not sought out by the other people who are close with em.

-> Spirit, Tune’s sibling, can probably best understand what Odyssey’s going though. The two have always gotten along well, having met through Tune. When Odyssey was injured, they requested Spirit join the team in es place, providing a glowing recommendation to the then owners. E’s always thought highly of Spirit, as a skilled and reliable member of the team (and someone e could trust to keep an eye on Tune where e couldn’t).

-> Spirit’s been different, recently. Odyssey has slowly tried opening up to them to talk about their shared loss, after es initial attempts to distance emself from the team in es grief. But any attempt seems stilted and awkward, so usually Odyssey never gets around to that part, and sticks to shallow small talk and talking At them about other problems. Honestly e just wants their company, and e feels they could use it, too. Odyssey worries for Spirit’s physical wellbeing in the Otherworld, and their mental wellbeing in the wake of losing their sibling. But they’re still capable of looking after themself, so e doesn’t push too hard. E just figures… well. Spirit probably needs the same kind of help e does, and e’s trying to be that for them.

-> If there’s a coworker that Odyssey really Does Not get along with, it’s Curiosity. In the past they’ve had a standard and respectful relationship. But with Tune M.I.A. and the EEG’s new ownership, Odyssey’s being phased out of the team though circumstance and es own actions and e’s feeling quite frustrated. E projects a lot of those frustrations into Curiosity, the new de facto leader of the field team and symbolic of the changes Odyssey rejects. Curiosity, for her part, isn’t keen on sitting around and taking flak from Odyssey.

-> Mostly they try to avoid each other, and that turns out fine. But when they do interact, Odyssey is… difficult about it. E will nitpick any plan of hers to test how it holds up, always double-checks her work, tries to pull rank/seniority regardless of relevance.. all in all, nothing malicious, but instead unreasonably hypercritical. E claims e’s only making sure she’s up to handle whatever the Otherworld throws at them next.

-> Phoenix on the other hand is a long time friend of Odyssey and Tune, having also met them through school before he dropped out. They’ve been a sturdy pillar of support for Odyssey through es grief, and regularly checks up on em to make sure es looking after emself. Though Phoenix, like Curiosity, is ambivalent about the new ownership, he is unlike Curiosity in that he is in good standing with Odyssey and is privy to sooo many rants about it. They talk often. Phoenix is really the only other person Odyssey trusts with maintaining the systems e built.

-> Phoenix and Odyssey had a brief romantic fling as young adults, which Odyssey now finds very amusing. Even moreso because Phoenix is kind of embarrassed about being ‘something of a headstrong dumbass’ at that age, in their own words. It’s one of the few things Odyssey and Curiosity (who also once dated Phoenix) can agree upon. It’s all in good fun.

[spacedlexi]

I am madly in love with your artstyle and its been a big big inspiration for me as of late. Also, what are your thoughts on Jane and Bonnie? Do you like them or not

AAA thank you so much thats so flattering to hear 🥺💕!!

my feelings on jane and bonnie are nuanced just like my opinion on many of twdg characters. but i love twdg for all its messy fucked up characters :) its fun :) so while i dont hate either of them they definitely still do things that piss me off

in janes case, i think her mentorship/sisterhood with clem came more from her guilt about her sister than actually wanting to have this 11 year old around. so while she would teach clem important survival skills, she was also always quick to leave or act selfishly (clems "i thought you believed in me 🥺" always makes me sad). and this is just solidified by her actions in her S3 flashbacks. i do think she TRIES to work with the group, but she just gets in her own way and is never able to fully integrate, especially since the S2 cast is a fucked up mess in and of itself so its understandable. her actions at the end of S2 are born of pure selfishness, leaving a newborn infant in a random freezing vehicle so she could "show clem what kenny was really like" when clem is WELL AWARE of the thread this madman is hanging on to (having already faced the brunt of his frustrations MULTIPLE times at this point, and is desperate not to lose anyone else). she wanted a fight and she got one. i think maybe she told herself it was about saving clem, but honestly i dont think that was really ever her goal. again i just think a lot of her motivation comes out of the guilt of leaving her sister behind, so she saw clem as a second chance to make things right. but depending on clems actions, she can end up on her own without either of them, and jane can be the sister left behind to die. its interesting to see clem kinda pick up janes personality in the first half of S3 now that shes also at a point where she has no one and trusts no one, and is deep down lonely and longing for community. the difference is clem is not selfish (while still caring about self preservation), and actually likes being able to help people when she can. shes more so just afraid of caring for people again to protect herself from what she sees is the inevitable pain of losing them, as opposed to janes "theyre all just gonna bring you down so you should be on your own instead" outlook. but i definitely saw jane (and luke) as a bigger mentor/big sister(/brother) figure to clem than kenny was to her. jane actually taught her how to take care of herself. kenny was just someone from her past she didnt want to let go of

in bonnies case, she can be really horrible to clem if she listened to luke and stayed back instead of trying to grab him, so i'll literally try to save luke just so i dont have to hear it 😭 but also i like the convo her and clem have on the steps if you tried to save him. its an important character moment for clem, being asked what SHE wants instead of what the people around her want, and that she should start thinking about that, which is formative to the decision she makes (or fails to make) at the rest stop. the way bonnie is initially dismissive of carvers behavior i think is supposed to mirror the way clem can be dismissive of kennys behavior after leaving howes. will they come to see the man they once respected is becoming someone unstable? (i used to be in the "kenny might be going crazy but he'd never hurt clem" camp UNTIL i picked the "lee shouldnt have tried to save me 😔" option in the car and kenny threatened to smack her for it AFTER giving it a moment of hesitation so he KNEW what he was saying there. my jaw was dropped. but kenny is just another interesting flawed character in a game of interesting flawed characters (although they Heavily backtracked on the kenny/carver parallels in the S3 flashbacks. you can make the argument hes happier now but idk he cant come back from the threat for me he MEANT that)). bonnie leaving with mike is fucked but understandable, and she can show real concern after clem gets shot before getting chased off by kenny. i hope her and mike are still out there somewhere i dont hate either of them, even tho it was horrible of them to steal ALL of their supplies when they knew they were leaving TWO children behind. like cmon. but overall i liked bonnie :) shes a bit of a mess but i like her for it

in the end i am a twdg woman character forgiver :) i do love all the fucked up ladies its refreshing let them do dumb shit and make mistakes!!! i love mess :)