#people also mocked me for having bad handwriting

[ichbinmeltdown]

My mom taught me when I was homeschooled, and when I was in 4th grade we worked on it for like a month

Still absolutely awful at writing it but I'm great at reading it!

Reblog this if you had to learn cursive writing as a child

If you were ever told or were made to learn cursive writing when you were in grade school. I wanna see how many of you suffered like I did.

[gravegoer]

Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe

Sevika's Boss ꩜ part 2

hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist

You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.

Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.

She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.

And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.

She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...

Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.

But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?

This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.

"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.

She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.

"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.

"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.

You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.

Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are you— Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"

"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.

The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.

"Im in—" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'

"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the time– hell! You talk to her all the time."

You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?

"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do it—"

She attempted to cut you off with a meek,

"Sevikas—"

"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.

You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.

Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."

Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.

Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."

You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."

You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.

"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.

"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.

You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.

poor sevika

Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.

She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.

You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.

You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.

Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.

"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.

"No—well.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.

You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.

She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.

"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."

How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?

"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.

The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.

"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.

(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.

Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.

Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.

Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.

Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"

Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.

She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.

"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.

She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.

Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.

She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.

At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.

thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love

[astr0exe]

K9 [COD MEN (POLY??) X M!READER] : CH3

Ch.1 , Ch.2 , Ch.3

CAS’ MASTERLIST !!

reader is transmasc and autistic cause i said so :3

AO3 VERSION : K9

(again super scared to post my writing)

(hope you guys enjoy!!)

(again projecting cause reader is so me)

SUMMARY : Reader and Bucky go to the gym, ignoring the flush they feel when their co-workers pay attention to them

CW : SWEARING

Chapter 3 :

First person POV:

I opened my eyes, momentarily confused by my surroundings, then remembered last night, heat rushed to my face as pain blossomed in my head. I look over at my bedside table and notice a cold bottle of water, what looks like paracetamol or aspirin and a note. I picked it up and noticed the almost chicken scratch handwriting.

Hey K9, you fell asleep on the couch and we know how uncomfortable it can be so Ghost carried you into your room. There is paracetamol for you and I think Gaz is cooking breakfast later (well for you it will be now) so get your arse to the kitchen before you don’t eat.

~ Soap

I quickly took the paracetamol, got out of bed and threw a band tee on (silly lil SOAD shirt /lh:AN). Smiling as Bucky sat by my feet. I haven’t trained since I got here so I decided to just do that. Placing Bucky’s harness on, I walked through the compound. When I got to the large training area I noticed how barren it was and breathed a sigh of relief, not enjoying working out in front of people.

The room was huge, rows of work out equipment ranging from weights to treadmills and in the centre a boxing ring. There was also a gun range and knife throwing area through a door on the far back wall. I walked around a little and decided to go over to the punching bags as Bucky entertained himself by napping further away. I wrapped my hands up, made sure to put my headphones on turning my loud workout music on and shuffling it. My eyes closed for a second as Melanie Martinez’s Class Fight came on (AN: I am currently listening to this song and I forgot how good it was), I got into my stance and started going through my combinations.

I keep punching till my lungs ache and sweat is formed on my forehead. Not even hearing when someone came in and started watching me curiously. As I grab my water bottle I notice Ghost staring at me. I accidentally make eye contact with his dark eyes before quickly looking down sheepishly, feeling uncomfortable. I walk over to Ghost, my water bottle still in my hand. I look up at him not speaking for a few seconds, “Uhm hey.. Lt, hows it going?” I look down at his sweatpants before averting my eyes again. He nods slowly, “Good good, hows your head K9? It hurting?” He laughs, mocking me slightly. Before I can answer Soap bounds in, having too much energy for such an early start.

“Hey Lt., Pup! Hows your headache?” He walks over to us smiling wearing a tight grey t-shirt and some basketball shorts. I gaze over at him smiling politely, slowly realising he called me pup. I blush slightly before replying “Uh, its okay aha.. Happy it isn’t too bad, guess I got lucky or.. something.” I answer awkwardly, before hearing Bucky pad over towards me sensing my slight change in stress level. “I’m really hungry, been working out for.. Shit for a while-“ I look and turn to the clock on the wall noticing its been a few hours, “I might just go grab some food, see you guys later?” I ask, feeling the pit of hunger in my stomach grow. Before I can leave the gym, the Captain walks in explaining that we are needing in a briefing room, oh for fucks sake.

[lizardrosen]

To Expostulate What Majesty Should Be

@paysomeonetopaysomeone, @moonlarked, @gabriel-shutterson, @cleverclove, have some pre-slash claudius/polonius!

The younger prince faces much less daily pressure than the elder but you never know when an unexpected death may launch you to the top of the existing power structures, so he can never quite relax either. Claudius goes to law school, where he devours every book he can get his hands on. Like other statists he teaches himself to write fair — not only excellent handwriting but all the ‘verily’s and ‘thereunto’s and symbolic greenery and livestock.

He makes an effort to read up on national policies and how they have evolved over the decades so if perchance a reporter asks about it he won’t be caught wrongfooted and just panic and make something up. It brings him into contact with Polonius almost as often as his brother, just to understand the reasoning behind some article or decree or other.

He quickly understands where the councillor gets his reputation as tedious because he uses a lot of words to express some very simple ideas. But Claudius can’t be that irritated when he does take the time to keep explaining until he’s sure he’s got it, and doesn’t mock or scold him for not already knowing.

Whatever his personality, no one could deny that Polonius is excellent at his job. Claudius appreciates his insights and his intuitive understanding of how people all across the social spectrum work. It means that when he occasionally gets frustrated with his inability to corral his words Polonius can usually translate his meaning in a way that allows him to maintain his regal composure.

Their father certainly recognized his potential even when he was just starting out and made Hamlet promise to retain his services when it came time for him to assume the rule of the land. They make a good team: Hamlet’s military expertise, Claudius’s diplomatic flair, and Polonius’s sensitivity to the ebb and flow of public opinion.

It’s hard, though, being parentless. He must have known for a long time that when a position is hereditary the only way to get it is for the previous person to die, but it comes as a surprise to have it actually happen to him. Even weeks and months later he still weeps for what is gone and for the things he never even thought to say, but only sometimes. For the most part life just carries on.

“I’m tired,” he announces as he enters the lounge, and Polonius just points to a freshly-brewed pot of coffee on the counter. He adds a creamer to his mug and after a moment’s thought stirs in another. “God, you’re an absolute saint.”

It’s always worth it to show one’s appreciation, especially for someone so essential, and Polonius has a smile that spreads across his whole face when he’s really pleased. “Thanks, dear my lord!”

“But I’ll tell you what,” he groans as he collapses against the back of the couch. “If I never have to attend another budget proposal meeting it’ll be too soon.”

“Bad news, sir, we do this quarterly,” says Polonius and Claudius cracks up. It’s not like he doesn’t already know this, but there’s something about the deadpan delivery that makes it all seem much more manageable.

“I can’t imagine what all this would be like if I also had to worry about student loans like so many of my peers,” he admits. “Or medical bills, my god! Me, I could stop working tomorrow and I’d still have everything provided for me, but most people don’t get that security. It makes me feel like a fraud.”

“For what it’s worth, Claudius, I think you’re doing an admirable job. Most royals in history — that is, in European history, and the history of the nations that have been colonized, for that’s what I’ve studied and I wouldn’t want to speak definitively on those subjects with which I have only passing familiarity—”

Claudius clears his throat to get him back on track, but he’s fond of this rambling.

“Ah, yes, most of those royals I’ve mentioned have not put nearly as much thought into this as you have. Citizens have typically been considered in terms of soldiers and profit, while you consider the heart of the matter. You’ll be just fine.”

“Oh.” He’s genuinely touched by the confidence, and perhaps he blushes just a little. “Thank you. How’s Caroline been, by the way? Her due date must be coming up soon.”

Polonius nods happily. “End of May. Laertes is very excited to become a big brother, of course.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be great at it!” He’s never seen a kid so full of heart, and if they’re all very lucky he might even keep that enthusiasm into adulthood. Anyway, it’s good at least someone is good with small children because Claudius certainly isn’t, and he’s got a nephew coming by November. Even young Laertes is only barely getting to the age where Claudius doesn’t feel like he’s fumbling every interaction, and soon he’ll have to learn to be an uncle. He hopes he’s a good one.

[bhaalbeast]

Ooo who finds out about the chair Dream gets nailed to? Is it Punz? And what’s the Immortal Dream one about? (Besides Dream being immortal)

it is actually most of the smp. it’s a oneshot, a present (but not a surprise) for a friend of mine. it’s mainly c!DTeam but Puffy, Tommy, and Sam also feature. Main plot is there’s a lot of rising tensions and a few people show up to the prison because of worsening weather and dying food, pinning it on Dream due to his admin abilities. Some of them have the intention of possibly wanting to kill him so the SMPs conditions go back to normal once a ‘stable’ person is able to take over. they find him there in a horrific state, incredibly distressed and fighting for his life. quackity had been mocking him about how angry people are getting so he ends up feeling like he needs to plead for his life. Sapnap and George are horrified.

your snippet: He regretted looking closer when he saw Dream’s bare stomach was covered in long, brutal slits, each running across where a rib would be. It looked like some were actively gone and some had been previously missing, bloody strips of cut flesh red and irritated where the healing you received upon respawning had done its best to repair the damage done.

Dreams' eyes squeezed shut tighter and he shrunk as shadows blotted out the light of the glowstone in front of him. He could tell there were two of them, even from behind his mask. Something in his throat choked him up and he coughed from behind the gag again, head tilting impossibly lower as the disturbance shot spikes of agony through his already disturbed ribs. His arms instinctively tried to tug up and he couldn’t help but make a hoarse sob of agony as the nails that had been driven through his flesh with a few well timed strikes of a hammer painfully pushed further against the wounds they’d carved.

the immortal dream AU, to be more specific, is my pheonix!dream AU. centers around reincarnation, the heartbreak of losing everyone you love, and feeling like you didn’t do enough together when they were alive. classic immortal based angst. if I ever write a fic it would start in prison, (naturally), but I have a bit of a future snippet for you :)

Some of Sapnap and George's old things were down here, he’d been told. Nobody else had wanted to go through them, leave the things in peace. Undisturbed. He felt bad being here but he just wanted some sort of memory. Anything.

When he threw open the first chest he had to choke back a sob. An old bandana, grayed and mottled. A rusted iron sword, cast to the side. Some withered flowers, crumbling with age. A few diamonds.

He took the bandana.

The next chest was significantly larger, he didn't have to lean down to open it.

The contents made him recoil.

A set of armor. An axe. A sword. All glinting with enchantments, the netherite almost glowing.

He gingerly reached for the note tucked carefully next to the helmet.

“To, Dream,” It read, in scratchy, painfully familiar handwriting.

“If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I put this where I knew you’d probably find it. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to pass Nightmare onto anyone else in the SMP. I know you wanted it back.

I’ve taken care of it over the years. I think you understand why I never let you have it.

Do with it what you will. I’m no longer around to stop you. Please don’t make me regret this.

Yours, Sapnap.”

Sapnap wouldn’t need to worry. He’d outgrown the armor anyways.

Dream cried.

@blueinkphantom bc this contains snippets of some of the AUs you asked about

[ducknotinarow]

2012 Karai - All Symbol Headcanons please uwu

| Send me a symbol and I will write a headcanon about…  For multimuse blogs, please specify!

Personally speaking Karai is a very big favorite of mine being always in-between as an ally and enemy of the turtles. 2012's take is a favorite of mine though I do still sort of prefer 03's back story. Personal hot take I just don't care for her being Splinters daughter Miwa. It didn't really go anywhere and I am sad that she never got to like bond with the turtles after the reavel and such? Sure they risk a lot to try and save her but really only Mikey seems to see her like a sister. Which is sad to me I feel we could have seen some fun dynamics with her more included. But I won't get into that XD once again this is mostly going towards the Foot!Casey au. But anything not outright directed to that can be applied to Karai over all.

𝓕 : My muse’s handwriting. (Is it good, bad, difficult to decipher, do they prefer writing by hand or with the help of some form of machine, e.t.c.) 

"A steady hand is needed when you deal with weapons." From Karai's hand writing we can she is sensible, even tempered and rational. She can be optimistic. well also being discreet and value silence. She notice everything and pays great attention to detail. Karai is a careful, methodical thinker.

Which I would say is a fitting result on here handwriting. Before I break down into that i'm sure you noticed the lack of a surname in her's that is on purpose. As Karai tries to sever her ties with her father even dropping her name, despite Karai needing to be kept to the shadows and such her father dose hold some ties mainly in Japan. So Karai legally gets emancipated. She is of age to be able to do it after all.

back to her hand writing results, Karai is a sensible person she likes to have all the information before she acts. She isn't often motivated by her own emotions even openly dissing her father on his obsession saying he needs a hobby. Karai can hold her temper and act much more rational. But she can sometimes get trigger into actting on her own emotions where they too much and this is when she tends to go against her usual ways. Jumping in head first with no plan or course of action her drive is to hurt. Surprisingly she can be pretty optimistic but thats a survival tactic being the daughter of Shredder offers a pretty bleck life so anything that can be something good to hold on to she needs too. Rather it's finally getting justice for her mother to making sure her Brother and sister finally can be free. Taking into account she is a kunoichi discreet and silence is just ingrained into her. Along with her need to pay attention to detail.

As how shes able to pick apart April's lies about the turtles when mention she has four brothers who speak Japaneses and such. Or how she is too damn aware of how people carry themselves able to mock the body language needed to fool others. When her emotions are not ruling her actions she very good at planning steps ahead. Able to get the better of many for her thought and plans alone. Emotions are her only true weak spot.

✈ : My muse and  traveling. (If they do it frequently and why, if they never left their home town, e.t.c.)

"I really only been to Japan and New York." Karai didn't outright join Shredder until a bit later she grew up in Japan where Shredder main base for the foot clan resides and a lot of her training was. She later moved to New York so she could join her father on his revenge mission. Working as his right hand almost. Outside of this Karai hasn't travel around too much in her life. But it's something she would love to do more.

✿ : My muse and nature. (If they are an ‘outdoorsy type’, like the sound of bird’s singing, if they have never set foot in a forest, e.t.c.) 

"I know how to survive if having to go into the woods if that's what you mean?" Sort of, Karai isn't big on camping and such shes a tad prissy this way. Not that she'll be against it she just ain't having much fun sleeping in the dirt. She rather stay up and play look out. So no she isn't all to connected to nature. Funny considering she is part snake now?

☼ : My muse’s first memory. (Where it was, who was with them, how this memory makes them feel, e.t.c.) 

"First memory? it could be a dream but I swear it's real. Looking at a women with long dark hair telling me sorry."

Karai's first memory is also the day she lost her mother int the fire. Her mother was trapped in the building that ended up getting set on fire thanks to the fights going on. Her mother was trapped under some of the roofs structure trapped her. She just has the word sorry trapped in her mind. Karai is positive that memory is the day she lost her mother. The vague memory just fits so while to the photo she has of her mother. But for all she knows she made up that memory.

☙ : My muse’s favourite food. (Bonus: A memory, be it good or bad, associated with said food.)

"If a certain red colored turtle hurts my brother? I know someone who can make them into turtle soup for me."

It will be turtle soup if Raph ever hurts Casey. But I would say her favorite food is Baozi. She prefers them with bean paste more of treat but sell eat the kinds with meat and veggies as well. If going more savory she likes pork. In part it's why she took so well to the pizza goyza almost being close to her own favorite food. It's something easy to eat and you don't really need to sit down and eat.

♬ : My muse and music. (What type of music they like listening to and in what context, what music they would never listen to, e.t.c.)

"hmm not big on music anything that's good is fine, i just have natural good taste."

Karai come across ver underground music lover, indie artis and such she not to fixed on a style of music punk rock may be a norm but sometimes she'll branch out.

I feel Karai is the type to indulge her lost childhood healing towards her inner child she has a guilty pleasure enjoyment for musical songs from Disney movies, shows and more. Can blame it on watching those kind of movies with angel but she can and has been caught humming them to herself at times. And sometimes the songs hit her a bit too close to home.

↺ : My muse and the past. (Do they live in the past and struggle to let go of past grievances, or move on more easily, is there anything in their past they want to forget, e.t.c.) 

"I guess I do when it come to my mother." Karai never got to know her mother, take from her when she was just a baby. Karai often tries to hold anything she can as a connection to her even down to the flower she claims is her favorite. Purely based on knowing her mother loved them. Karai dosen't care much for her fathers vendetta against Yoshi, not till he tells her he killed her mother then she sees them as her enemy. April stating she lost her own mother was also enough to trip her up and give the lesser experienced fighter a chance to beat her. Karai often wonders if shes anything close to the person her mother would want her to be.

Karai after things with Casey goes down even more so worries about this, feeling she is willing to sell her soul to be rid of the demon she now see's their father as. She is certain her mother wouldn't want her to let revenge eat away at her. But she could have lost someone important to her someone who sort of filled the void left by her mother in her life. She Nearly lost Casey because of Shredder same as she lost her mother to him. Letting him live means her loved ones will always be in danger.

She may not be too different from her father in the end stuck in the past and letting revenge become an obession.

☾ : My muse and sleep. (How much they sleep, how much they wish to sleep, if there is something that never fails to put them to sleep, e.t.c.) 

"Periodically, I sleep through the night most I don't. I must be alert often after all."

Karai is pretty light sleeper something she was trained as when studding under her teacher. She never knew when he would strike so she got used to sleeping as light as possible that way she could both work off little sleep leaving a moment of weakness out of her but also meaning when she can sleep she only dose in short periods of time. She gets by with a near like nap like of sleep.

✧ : My muse and art. (If they have an artistic side or not and why, favourite artist if they have one, e.t.c.) 

"Eh not my thing, next?"

Shes no artist but I like to think she likes looking at Casey's drawings as they grew up.

❃ : My muse and social media. (If the muse is/would be on social media and why/why not, their general opinion on it, e.t.c.) 

"I'm in the foot clan we don't do that?"

Casey might use some but Karia not really at all, she only joined twitter as an act of rebellion since they are meant to not take part of the world and remain unknown and hidden from it. Thier father pissed her off one night so see made an e-mail and a twitter. Pretty sure she had to get Casey to help with both. As mentioned she only has Twitter and she hardly looks at it when she dose it's most just for aesthetic posts from Japan or China. Or overly decorated weapons.

Eventually she starts using it to follow indie musicians and find out where they are holding shows that she will sneak out to go watch. She still not all to versed in how twitter works she can't figure out how to save the cool poster made up for flyers for a lot of the musicians get made up on to her phone. Casey don't be rude please show her again u-u

✉  : My muse and others. (If they social and outgoing or more introverted, and why. If they prefer communicating with others face to face or in written form, e.t.c.). 

"I'm clearly a people person?"

She is far from a people person. Karai may be very observant which is a great skill but she knows nothing on interacting with people. This is actually why she wasn't picked for the mission to betray the turtles. She lacks social skills very very badly and it's not hard to see why. She isn't too good about blending in either. Shes very stand offish and cold. And a clear required taste not someone who can go behind enemy lies and not come across as a possible threat.

This even extends to her and Casey. She may be able to tell he is lonely but she doesn't understand past this why he keeps away so much. She can easily read a person buuuut interaction comfort and just stuff most people learn from growing up? even empathy? shes has a glaring spot of lacking that skill set. It's a big part of why it's a miracle she even has Shin as a friend.

▶ : My muse and level of education. (If the muse has some form of education, what education they perhaps wish they had, e.t.c.). 

"All my schooling is home, dad wasn't cutting corners and made sure the best of the best taught me." More reason why she is bad at interactiong and even just acting her age she never went to a public school always home school with best teachers money could buy. Karai is very smart she graduated early even. As stated she is very good with computers with their piratical uses and can even trick Donatello or least give him an annoyance so that's where I would set her intelligence.

◐ : My muse and animals. (If they like animals and treat them well, do not care for them at all, e.t.c.). 

"hmm I did want a pet as a kid." Karai was lonely of course she wanted something like a cat or a dog but she never got one. But that didn't stop her from getting attached to stray animals here and there. Sneaking food out to alley cats and homeless dogs. She has a bit of a soft spot for them.

❒ : My muse and gifts. (If they are good/bad at finding gifts, good/bad at receiving gifts, good/bad at wrapping gifts, e.t.c.) 

"Five finger discount works well." I feel like despite being rich Karai knows how to steal and dose it way to often it's fun she doesn't even want the stuff but sometimes it hard to not steal? So lets just say when she is feel extra nice Casey may be gifted better eyeliner and such and Angel new dolls or things that she can use for her dolls. So I'd say shes a good gift giver and long as you don't care where it comes from? Just enjoy the present.

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family. (If they speak with each other and how much, if they are close or estranged, e.t.c.). 

"It's well, yeah."

Mother- Karai's mother is her whole world, she never met her but she is always on her mind and carried in her heart. Desperately hopes to avenge her own mother's death by killing her true killer. Even though she doesn't know what her mother was actually like, she cares deeply for her and is even carries a torn-off, dilapidated photo of her mother around with her. And Karai wishes to be more like her but she has become her father instead and choose to which is worse but she rather burn in hell if she can right somethings.

Father- actually quite complicated. She seems to fear the Shredder at certain times, but obeys him. She doesn't hold much respect for him more out like most teens with their parents. Often makes remarks and argue with him. But she still saved him a very times when he could have died still seeing him as her father first. Until she learns how he has been treating Casey and that its the reason Casey goes to kill himself.

Angel- Her younger sister, she and Angel bond over the fact neither of them ever got to met their mother. Sometimes it's hard to understand a connection you should have with someone you never even met. Karai on her own end has a tend more of a motherly older sister approach to Angel because of this. It's why shes in comparison nice to Casey. She often can be found brushing Angel's hair and styling it, if Angel dose wish to make her own like Karais she would help with dying it even. Angel could ask anything of Karai nearly and she would do it with out hesitation. She wants Angel to get what she and Casey didn't the pleasure of being a kid.

Casey- Karai and Casey are the same age but Casey is older only by a bit so for a few times during the year he is older. Despite this all Karai dose learn to sort of lean on Casey as if he is the older sibling. She's not the best as being open and vulnerable but she has exposed this side to Casey. Telling him about her mother and such at least something he relates to with her on and over. Casey is a very soft and caring person and Karai honestly could out right tease him by saying he acts like a mom but she dosen't because she likes that about him. How he worries about her and gets on her case even. Casey is a lot of things to Karai. So she will do anything for him as well, she would have helped him with the turtle even without their bet. When she dose find him after his suicide attempt she sees that she could have lost someone who has impacted her life in ways she wasn't aware of before. And its the last straw for her when it comes to their abusive father.

[corpsegirl-sephie]

Over the course of the last month or so I've been very slowly processing just how many of my issues are a direct result of how my parents treated me as a child and the fact that my childhood wasn't actually as good and normal as I was led to believe. I'm obviously not done working through it but it's a very strange experience to recontextualize everything I've ever known and I feel the need to talk about some of the things I've realized so far

Why do I cling so desperately to anyone who shows me a sliver of kindness? Probably because I never felt that kindness until I was 18, from someone who, at that point, was a stranger. Maybe it's because, until I left my parents' home for the first time, all I felt was scorn and quiet contempt for my very existence.

Why is my self-esteem functionally nonexistent? Why am I such a perfectionist? Probably because my mother loved nothing more than to brutally mock and punish every perceived failure. Tearing pages upon pages out of my notebooks because my handwriting was too ugly or because I had made a spelling mistake and that was unacceptable, making me redo the same thing over and over until my hands cramped. Yelling for hours over "bad" grades in middle school (by which we mean anything less than an 8, although anything below a 9 was still passive-agressively mocked incessantly)

Why can I never seem to just relax? Why is every moment of leisure so tense? Probably because both of my parents just have fits where they see me having fun and decide that that's just unacceptable and they must scream and berate me for not being productive, even when there's literally nothing I need to do.

Why am I such a people pleaser? Why do I bend over backwards to do and say only what I think won't inconvenience anyone else, with no regard for my own wellbeing? Why do I do that so much I get lost in that facade and forget who I even was before? Probably because any time I didn't bend to my parents' absurd whims I was torn down for hours emotionally. Probably because every time I tried to express myself and my interests that didn't align with my parents' I was punished for it (I was once forbidden from accessing any form of entertainment for a whole summer just because I expressed an interest in horror. Keep in mind this was also at a time where I was extremely socially isolated. I literally had no one to talk to and nothing to do except sit in my room alone for a while summer). Probably because every time I tried to make a choice about my own life that they couldn't vicariously live through I was pressured constantly until I changed my mind (this includes going to college for something I knew I would hate just to appease their wishes to see me do what they wished they had. They even admitted that's why they made me do it. The only reason they allowed me to quit was because it was becoming increasingly clear that I would literally kill myself if I had to keep doing that)

I am now thinking about how my mom once told me that, when she's old and on her deathbed, I shouldn't try to prolong the inevitable. Specifically, I am thinking that I'd be more than happy to let her die, and the only regret I'll have when she dies is that it didn't happen sooner. I genuinely hate her and my father so much. They've ruined my life and mental health. I fear the damage they've done is irreversible. I will forever have to live with the scars of how they treated me.

If I'm still in contact with my parents by the time they die I'll consider that a failure

[indigofoxed]

OC Deep dive

Thank you for the tag @forkingbrusselsprout !

I'm greedy so I chose two of my Tavs, Ris and Nissa (pictured) as I'm writing their fics in parallel and this is a great way to get in their heads. Plus they are very different to me.

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Ris- being alone.

Nissa - dark forests at night and accidentally hurting someone she loves.

Do they have any pet peeves?

R - people who take too long to get to the point. He's quite exuberant and doesn't have a lot of patience sometimes.

N - she hates dog-earing books. She has a collection of random stuff for bookmarks but she would never fold a page.

What are three items you can find in their bedroom?

R - a basic looking, leather handled short sword. It was given to him by his mum and made it through his adventures so he thinks it's lucky. His favourite boots, they cost a fortune and he loves them. Candles, he likes to play with the flames.

N - Books! Jewellery of some kind, and some kind of polished stone, tigers eyes maybe? She likes to hold them when she reads and rubs her thumb over them, it soothes her.

What do they notice first in person?

R - Footwear. He insists you can tell a lot about a person from their shoes. Astarion mocks him ceaselessly over it.

N - If they have magic and how strong they might be. It's a self-protection habit.

On a scale of 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

R - 8, he is unfortunately quite used to it.

N - 5? Pretty average, her magic tends to step in if its too bad.

Do they go into fight or flight when under pressure?

R - fight or sometimes freeze.

N - fight but defensive to start.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

R - He comes from a huge family, foster kids always in and out with his full sister, mum and dad. He probably wouldn't choose that for himself in the future 😅

N - Small, farming family, two older brothers and her parents. She would maybe like a small family one day but as an elf she isn't too caught up on it.

What is a smell they dislike?

R - Lavender.

N - Geraniums. She thinks they smell disgusting. Her partners only make that mistake once when they gift her flowers 😅.

Have they broken any bones?

R - A lot of them!

N - Her leg when she was younger because she fell out of a tree. The healer didn't want to risk magic on her due to her wild magic so she had to have standard healing and was stuck in her bed for weeks. That's when she developed her love for reading.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

R - Ridiculously charming (especially if he wants something)

N - Confident and thoughtful. She has quite a dark sense of humour when you know her better.

Are they a night owl or a morning lark?

R - Night owl for sure, even before he met Astarion.

N - Lark, she loves seeing the dawn.

Boom, surprise birthday party, how do they react to surprise?

R - Embarrassed but happy.

N - It's best not to surprise a wild magic sorcerer TOO much.. she would like a party thrown for her but don't jump out from behind couches....

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

R - So so so scruffy.

N - You'd expect it to be neat but it's really cursive to the point its hard to read unless you know it well.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

R - Amusement, he's mostly quite lighthearted, and desire/craving.

N - Contentment and also interest/curiosity.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

R - Not really, he is quite a tactile person though so you'll find him absentmindedly touching stuff around him.

N - Velvet.

What kind of accent do they have?

R - I imagine it like a very light welsh accent, but the Toril equivalent. Slightly lilting and stronger when he's tired or irritated. He sounds very much like his mum then.

N - Nothing strong, she's quite well spoken and can get quite sharp when annoyed.

Its just for fun but tagging @casualya and @hfxgamora but anyone who wants to play along I'd love to see any OC/Tavs you have!

OC Deep Dive

Thank you for the tag @andromedaancunin ♥️

🥀Iivlin Do’Urden (Eve)🥀

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

She is afraid of losing more of her memories.

Do they have any pet peeves?

When an outfit/accessories include metals of different colours. They have to match. (Yes, this might be my personal pet peeve but Eve has a lot in common with me so there is that 🤭)

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Her scimitars, a silk robe and her journal.

What do they notice first in person?

From first glance she is probably assessing how easy will it be to intimidate them.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

She’d never admit it but she is actually quite tender. She will endure pain but it will cause her a lot of peril. So I will say 5.

Do they go into fight of flight mode when under pressure?

Fight. Always fight.

Do they come from big family/are they a family person?

All she remembers are snippets from her youth in the Underdark and those are pretty grim. Being created by the god of murder will do that to a person.

Her family is Astarion now and Bhaal’s bloodline ends with her.

What is a smell they dislike?

Smell of boiling carrots. (Don’t ask…)

Have they broken any bones?

Most likely, but she doesn’t remember it.

How would a strange likely describe them?

A mean drow.

Are they a night owl or morning bird?

Night owl (curtesy of vampire husband).

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

She’d find it amusing.

Do they have a nest or messy handwriting?

It’s a running joke with my best friend how Eve is not super academically bright. I think her handwriting is a little childish. I am not sure if she knows how to write in common actually. She likes to draw though.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Confusion and amusement.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Silk.

What kind of accent do they have?

I would assume Eve has a bit of undercommon/drow accent.

———————————

I’ll tag @indigofoxed, @heyiamroe and @somer-psionic if they would like to participate ♥️

[frogtanii]

iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[save-the-villainous-cat]

HIII HOW ARE YOU DOING? LOVE THE RECENT WORK <33

Anyways, a snippet idea: Villainy is a side hustle for villain since they're a poet. They also have a huge crush on Hero.

Coincidentally, Hero has been getting anonymous love poems in beautifully decorated envelopes with pressed flowers AND YK I'M A SUCKER FOR ANYTHING ROMANTIC AND AESTHETICALLY PLEASING

And Hero apparently agrees with me because they're falling Head Over Heels™ for this anonymous lover and now they're trying to figure out who it is.

YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE WITH THIS PROMPT. I KINDA PICTURE HERO LEAVING A LETTER WHERE THE POEMS USUALLY APPEAR SO THE VILLAIN TURNS INTO THEIR ANONYMOUS PENPAL

“So…poetry, huh?”

Every muscle inside of the villain’s body froze, stopping dead in their tracks. Shit. Shit.

“Sorry?” Their voice was the opposite of steady. They watched as the hero slipped out of the shadows, a small smile on their face. Too shy to actually look into their eyes, the villain’s gaze dropped to the hero’s ankles where their cape was flapping around happily. With featherlight steps, the hero came closer.

“I can only recite the usual Shall I compare thee, bla bla bla, but your poems are…just wow.” No. This wasn’t happening. This was a dream, a nightmare the villain could escape in any second. They would wake up in their bed, fine and content and safe and without the hero knowing about the fucking poems.

Because that was just impossible. They should not know.

The thing was, the villain had in fact written love poems for over six months now. However, big however, the hero was (1) never meant to receive those, (2) never supposed to read those and (3) never, ever under any circumstances allowed to know how the villain was feeling about them. The villain had carefully written all those stupid poems and never sent them intentionally. There was a reason behind that.

People just didn’t wake up one day and had the courage to confess to their crush of five years. Those poems were supposed to be for the villain only because they had to let off some steam somehow.

The only one who knew about it was…their own sidekick. The villain cursed under their breath.

“I didn’t write those.”

“You sent them to me. And that’s your handwriting.” The hero was holding one of the letters, the latest one to be ridiculously accurate. The one with the pressed buttercups. “I think they are cute.”

No. It wasn’t cute. It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The villain’s head was close to exploding and their brain was already liquified. This time, there was nothing that could have helped them wiggle out of this.

“You’re making fun of me.” The villain had always pushed the people around them away. It was normal to them, so why the fuck did it hurt so much now? “You’re mocking me.”

The hero’s expression shifted to confusion.

“I didn’t say that and I never intended to make you feel bad. I think they’re incredible. No one has ever done anything like that for me. I have never gotten any flowers.” The hero had to be joking. They deserved much more than just flowers. They worked so hard and got so little appreciation. All the media did was criticise them. “The way you write about me…you make me feel better about myself. To see myself through your eyes makes me believe that I’m actually good enough. You know, that I’m worthy of praise and love.”

No matter the magnitude of the villain’s embarrassment, if the hero truly felt like this, then pushing them away was clearly not the best thing to do.

“Are you serious?” the villain asked. Their rigid shoulders lost some of their hardness.

“Yes. I like the poems. They are great.” The hero turned the envelope in their hand and let their thumb go over the heavy paper a few times as they smiled to themselves.

“I meant the other things you said. You don’t think you’re worthy of love?” the villain asked. More or less shy, the hero’s head cocked up. It seemed as if their roles had switched. The hero seemed unsure while the villain’s confidence crawled back with shattered elbows.

“Doesn’t everyone think that?” the hero asked in return, scratching the back of their head.

The villain had to go home. They had to write more poems. Right now.

And their sidekick had to start praying to every higher entity they wanted to beg for help.

[slasherscream]

hear me out crazy ass boy gang with a s/o that writes them songs but has never shown them. randomly the guys find them knowing them some are gonna be insufferable with the amount of arrogance they now possess and some of them have no clue what to do with the concept of someone loving them and verbalizing it 🥺

A/N: oooh my gosh i'm obsessed with this concept

billy loomis: Was waiting for you to get back from school/work, and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t necessarily trying to find anything, but the book was on your desk- you were asking him to read it, at this point. He’s only halfheartedly looking until he realizes the words are lyrics. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the love songs are written with him in mind. At first it makes him smirk. But he can see the evolution of your relationship through the lyrics. General feelings of infatuation melting into the deeper connection of being in love with him, as opposed to being in love with love itself. It’s an ego boost, for sure. Mostly it’s a relief. Here are your feelings, written out on page, clear as day. Your every unfiltered thought. He doesn’t tell you he read the book. He just walks around with a knowing smirk on his face that you’re very suspicious of. You’re easily distracted from this onset of smugness by his sudden romantic nature. He’s never been a bad boyfriend, but he’s certainly never been so downright doting. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you decide to just enjoy this random streak of tenderness.

josh washington: You two were moving in together and he was just trying to unpack some of your boxes for you. He’s honestly just setting up your desk for you. All the boxes are marked so that either one of you can unpack anything inside with at least a vague idea of where the stuff should go. Something about the unmarked notebook that doesn’t look like its for school makes him take a look inside. When he realizes how personal it is he wants to put it down. Then he spots his name... and well, he isn’t a saint.

He melts as he goes through the pages. He knows the two of you love each other. You have to love each other, with all the bullshit you’ve been through. But he knows it’s not easy to be with him. Sometimes he worries that you’ll wake up one day and be done with him. Be done with all the problems that come with being with him. He wouldn’t blame you but the thought leaves him hollow. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. He doesn’t know if he could handle you being gone. You love him though. It’s inked into the pages. Some songs written out slow and careful, and others written out sloppy and fast, like you had to get all the feeling out of your chest because it hurt to have it all trapped inside. You’ll walk in carrying takeout and find Josh crying. You nearly drop the food to run and comfort him. When he tells you what’s wrong - or really, what isn’t wrong, you won’t even have the heart to be angry. He looks somewhere between overwhelmed and awe. All he can think to do is pull you into his arms. He holds you so tightly you wonder if he’s afraid someone will come and take you away.

stu macher: He was just going through your stuff because he was bored, honestly. He wasn’t expecting to find anything juicy. The minute he realizes he’s holding onto a notebook full of songs he’s giddy. It’s practically a diary! You'll come into your bedroom and see him poring over your words without shame. He won’t even have the decency to stop. “Hey babe!”, will be his absentminded greeting as his eyes stay glued to a far-too-familiar book. You’ll have to literally snatch it from him. “Didn’t know you felt this way about me.” His teasing will be relentless. You’ll have to threaten to break up with him, and give him a bit of the silent treatment too. Eventually he’ll ease up on you, his grin going soft around the edges. “You should show me them on your own next time. Else I’ll have to go hunting for ‘em.” It’s not an idle threat. Now that he knows the book exists he’ll really tear up your entire house looking for it. Don’t bother trying to hide it. It won’t be worth the headache. 

jd: His first instinct is to become insufferable. As he reads more of your lyrics, he starts getting overwhelmed. Even as he holds the proof in his hands, he can barely wrap his head around you feeling so strongly about him. He traces over your handwriting and relishes every word. You'll catch him in the act but you won't have the chance to get angry. He kisses you like a man starved. Whispers every thought of love he's ever had against your lips, uncaring if he sounds obsessed. He was allowed a glimpse at your soul. It's only fair that he bares his in return.

kevin khatchadourian: Honestly was indifferent at first. He was going through your things because ‘why shouldn't he?‘ when he found all the songs. Page after page he reads. Slowly but surely it starts to get to him. The only person who's ever loved him is his father, and that love is built upon an endless tapestry of falsehoods and manipulation. His father loves someone who doesn't exist. His mother knows him, always has, but she despises him. Celia loves him, but it's pathetic. The hopeless and unthinking love of a dog. And now there's you. When he's with you he drops the act of normality he puts on for everyone else. You were around so constantly that he couldn't stomach wearing the mask 24/7. Beyond that though, there was something about you that made him want to show you everything. At first he thought he wanted to scare you. Now he doesn't know what he really wants from you.

As he reads through the pages he's sifting through your words, finding the deeper meanings. Watches as you stop writing about his mask, and start writing about him. Jagged and malicious and apathetic as he might be. You're infatuated          maybe you even love him. You've written out the words in a hundred different ways. He can see it every time you look at him, reach for him, follow him, talk to him. Reading it is different, somehow. You probably never wanted him to see these words. To know the depth of how you feel. You were probably afraid he'd mock you. A few months ago he would have. Now? He puts the book back, exactly where he found it.

He won't tell you about reading it, but the words are always on his mind. You'll think you misplaced the book one day and be beside yourself over losing it. Eventually you’ll find it again, out of the blue. Something is off about it though... but you’re not sure what. You’ll never know that what you have is a replica of the original book. A good replica, granted, but a replica nonetheless. Kevin thought about the songs too much, and committing them all to memory hadn’t scratched the itch. The constant cycle of the words running through his head. The irritation he’d feel when he forgot a part of a song, or mixed lyrics together. Having the book itself? It quieted his mind. He’s uncomfortable with the fact that he keeps it under his bed, tucked away inside a lock box, just so no one would be able to look at it. He’s never felt so protective over an item before. He tries not to think about it too much.

nathan prescott: He actually looked at your song book on accident. He needed to borrow some notes for a class and you told him he could just go to your room and grab them. He would never go searching for something like that. Saying he values his privacy would be an understatement, so he'd never disrespect yours. As soon as he realizes these are songs he wants to stop reading... but he's desperate to know what you think of him. People lie so easily, but here's a chance to see the raw truth of how you feel. He's terrified as he starts to read. Then he's just shocked. He'd hoped you weren't like everyone else around him. Wanting him to fail, to lose it, waiting for some sort of pay-off or trickle down. Even if you were, he wanted you so badly he was willing to have you any way you came, as long as you stayed. But here you are, your deepest feelings written out in ink, and you love him. You don't even pity him, you ache for him, want him. The next time he sees you he tells you he loves you for the first time. You'll never know that he read your songs, you'll only notice how much your relationship seemed to change over night.

sebastian valmont: Has to deflect. The only reason he’s being such an asshole about your songs is because he’s trying to deflect. He’s the only one here who has also written about you. Maybe not in lyrics, or in poetry, but he’s written about you. His diary is full of you. He started writing about you the moment he met you. Not unusual for him, considering absolutely everything is in his journals. But from the start there’s been something different about the entries that mention you. All his words suddenly become electric, leaping off the page. His descriptions of you, of the time you spent together, nearing obsessive in their detail. As if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

If there’s anything Sebastian is good at its manipulation. He knows he has you. He can have anyone, if he puts his mind to it. He’s made people fall in love with him before. There’s a long line of people who wants his head on a platter for that very reason. You’re the only prize that’s ever mattered, though. He has you now, sure. But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? It’s easy for eyes to wander, for the heart to turn fickle. Sometimes he watches you and tries to imagine what you might want from him. Tries to figure out what he could do to keep you interested from moment to moment. If he ever shared his worries with you, his worries that you could just get bored with him and leave, just like that - you’d tell him you don’t want him to be anyone but himself. And Sebastian doesn’t want to be anyone but himself, he doesn’t. But people contain multitudes, are more than a single face. He’d rather be a version of himself that captivates you then a “true” version of himself that you can grow tired of.

But here’s written proof that you love him. As he is. All the long nights you’ve spent talking to one another, side by side. The conversations where you traded barbs and philosophy, and everything in-between. The dinners, and picnics, and phone calls, and rooftops. He was so busy observing you, and trying to create a version of himself that you could love, that he forgot that there was something real for you to fall for. Didn’t even know how much of himself he was earnestly offering to you. Now he can see it in ink, and it’s scary, even with how much he loves you, to realize how much of the real him you know.

So he’s an asshole for a few days. When you confront him he falls apart like a wet sandcastle. You won’t have time to get angry before he’s pushing his own journals into your hands. Sebastian has never played fair, but something about you seeing through him despite all his masks made him want to show you more. As scary as it had been, it was also a moment of pure connection. The most electric, addicting thing he’s ever felt. He wants to feel it over and over again.

[call-sign-shark]

Alright, I've been jumping on this notification far too quick! Just before I start my apologies if my comment is all messy but I'm still so tired, like the weekend off didn't really work lmao.

Brummie, this is a fascinating and well-deserved breather in your story. I really appreciate how you're taking up things more slowly in this chapter, taking care to describe all the scenes with little Archie that got sent back with the flowers as well as displaying the family dynamics between the Shelby. I think I've never told you that but I am just plainly in love with the way you're writing Polly. She seems so in character, like the perfect embodiment of how she is in S1. I was so surprised 'cause you've managed to make me empathize a lot with Archie while he's just a secondary character. But with the help of a very few lines such as "Birmingham had also taken the joys of childhood from their children too" I've felt attached to him. Now I know the apologies part is the main topic of your incredible chapter (and I'll talk about it later) but my favorite part is really the banter between the two brothers and their Aunt. I don't know how you do it but each time you're writing interactions between them it's exactly like it is in the show. No, sometimes it is even BETTER. You're nailing the demeanor of each character incredibly well, and do not get me started on your ability to write dialogues. I've always felt so unconfident when it comes to dialogue and here you are, writing them as if you were a brilliant scenarist. Just wow Brummie.

Also, your writing of Arthur gets me squealing, kicking my feet, and slamming my face against the desk each time. First of all, I can hear his gruff voice in each line you wrote? Like?? Wtf?? His interaction with Archie was so rough and adorable at the same time, as well as his childish mannerisms with him stealing a biscuit or attempting to go for his Aunt's cup of tea, thus earning a slap behind the head. Also, your John is breathtaking. I nearly died from laughing at him arguing his bad handwriting meant he was as clever as a doctor. He's such a funny idiot I swear. "His Royal Highness" Polly said nodding to Tommy's office door as she picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea." Polly being a sassy queen as always .👌 Talking about the brothers' and family's dynamics, the scene in which Tommy realizes the bouquets have been sent back to him right in front of his siblings is such a satisfying moment of mild humiliation, something Tom really deserved after attempting to do everything to ruin Y/N's life. As satisfying as John and Arthur mocking him when Y/N comes in. I loved the description of her face being like thunder, I don't know if it's a British idiom or not but this is such a badass metaphor.

" It's a poem, by Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur sniffed as Tommy and John looked at each other, bewildered by the mere idea Arthur did anything other than beat their enemies within an inch of their let alone read or to be more specific read poems [...] "I read" Arthur said as his brothers continued to stare at him, perplexed by what they had just heard." In me spare time"

You knew I would talk about that part right? Brummie, darling, I am ... When I tell you I squealed in my bed when I read this I'm not lying. I. Squealed. Like a squeaky toy. This suits Arthur's sensitive artistic senses SO WELL. This part is one of the greatest examples of your talent at characterization but also as understanding SK's characters in depth. He's my sweet and sometimes psychotic little meow meow.🥹 

The end of my non-sensical comment is going to encompass the two confrontations between Y/N and Tommy. After five years of hidden rage, I can perfectly understand why she is so fierce and refuses to even hear him. Yes queen, he's been an idiot. I know some people can be frustrated by this reaction but personally, I ADORE the fact she's standing up. While reading I felt like her inner child came back to the surface, ready to kick Tommy in the bollocks. This part was insanely powerful: "Stop calling me that!" You cried brushing his attempts away as you walked past him to his office door. You weren't his sweetheart, you weren't his childhood love, you weren't his girl. It was over, all of it over." Nevertheless, I couldn't help but find it cute the moment Tommy claims she's her girlfriend in front of Freddie's friend, that's such an endearing jealous reaction. 🤭 About the apologies themselves... This was one of the most emotional scene I've read in a while. Maybe it has something to do with the fact Tommy never apologies canonically, or with how you tend to write him as this really explosive and despicable love interest in your outstanding works, but reading him apologizing did something to me. The fact he's realizing he's been an idiot, says it out loud and kisses Y/N's cheek is so tender, so adorable that I smiled, sincerely relieved. In this scene, I also love how realistic you kept Y/N's reaction. I mean: "...night" you managed to coax from your lip's as you turned your head to watch him leave, listening intently to the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the stairs as you desperately tried to think of something to say." This is once again so... perfect. Such as the ending with Tommy gifting her three posy flowers to refer to the times they were younger.

However, I could not help but fear for the next chapter. If it's like Killing Me Softly we're going to have 10 chapters right? Since I know you're the queen of the angst, I fear more drama is coming... But that's what we like teehee.😈 Fascinating chapter, as always babe! You're doing the work of God here. And now, expect another long-ass comment for She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not. So sorry for the delay!

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART SIX)

Summary: Tommy has to reluctantly learn a lesson in boundaries after his heated confrontation with you about his foolish plan to get you to talk with him. Will Tommy finally throw in the towel and back down from his relentless refusal to let things play out at their own pace? Or will his stubbornness get the better of him once again?

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, fluff

"Archie?" Polly said quirking a brow as she looked over the documents in her hand at the young boy stood at the betting shop door. " Finn's at school" she added as she turned in her chair, a tight smile gracing the corner of her lips as she beckoned him forward with her hand. " Does your mum know you're here bunking off?" She said removing his peaked cap as Archie looked down at the plate of shortbread next to the steaming cup of tea on Polly's desk. "Go on" she said nodding to them with a smile as his eyes lit up and he reached out for the biggest one on the small porcelain plate.

" Mum said I didn't have to go school today" he replied, mouth half full, his rosy red cheeks nipped by the bitter winter air ballooned with the entirety of the biscuit he had managed to fit in his mouth. "Doing deliveries for Mr Patterson at the flower shop, need the extra money now dad's been sacked by the rail works" he replied wiping his mouth as he looked down at his muddy boots, one missing a shoe lace, the other with a patched up hole on the side. Archie was one of many Small Heath children that had found themselves having to help provide for their families, forgoing education over the necessity to eat. The great war having taken the lives and jobs of many men of Birmingham had also taken the joys of childhood from their children too. Times were hard and sacrifices had to be made. Polly was not one to judge any parents decision to pull their son or daughter out of school, she only wished Archie and those like him had the chance to be children for a little while longer. For what was a summers days without the sound of kids playing outside in the street?

" Go on, have another" she winked as Archie replied with a grin that only deepened his enviable dimples whilst he picked out a second shortbread." Well I know I don't have any secret admirers Archie..." Polly said rubbing one of the rose petals between her fingers within the bouquet of flowers under the small boys arm."...so who's the lucky lady?"

" Mr Shelby" he replied brushing the crumbs of the newly stitched winter coat his mum had lovingly made for him.

" Tommy?" Polly said furrowing her brow as she looked over his shoulder to her nephew sitting at his desk in his office when Arthur and John walked in, slamming the betting shop door behind them. Five minutes peace, that's all she ever prayed for every Sunday at mass. Was it really too much to ask?

" Archie boy!" Arthur's voice boomed as he strode over, rustling the ten year old hair with his large calloused hands. " What you doing here ay? Skiving?" Arthur chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the desk pinching a biscuit from his Aunt, earning him a sharp glare and a irritated huff.

"Working" he replied standing up straight with his chin up. He was one of them now, a grown man or at least he thought he was, his muddy knees and youthful face begged to differ.

" Working ay, good lad" Arthur winked patting his shoulder as he reached for his Aunt's cup of hot tea, earning him a second glare and this time a smack on the back of his hand. No one was too old for a good hiding in Polly's eyes, something her grown nephews had learnt over the years as they continued to test her patience.

" Schools a bloody waste of time anyway Archie" John said turning his toothpick between his lips.

" Yes, a lot of good it did you and your crooked handwriting" Polly quipped back, a small smirk etched on the corner of her mouth as she returned her gaze to the documents on her desk.

" It's called doctors hand writing, alright?" John replied with a scowl on his face.

" Esme tell you that?" Arthur chuckled watching his brothers frustration at being the brunt of his families teasing.

" No it's, it's how doctors write. You know intellects" he replied pointing to the side of his head.

" Aright John boy whatever let's you sleeps at night" Arthur sniggered as he looked down at the bunch of roses in Archie's hand. " Who are these for then?"

" His Royal Highness" Polly said nodding to Tommy's office door as she picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea.

" Tommy ay? Come on then lad, let's not keep Mr Patterson waiting on any more deliveries" Arthur said as Archie nodded his head following him and John into Tommy's office.

"Arthur, John...Archie?" Tommy said, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he looked up from his desk, surprised to see his Finn's friend standing in the middle of the room with the bouquet he had picked out for you in his hand. And was that the card he had written for you, torn up? " She erh, she wasn't home? Tommy said clearing his throat as he stubbed his cigarette out, his eyes glaring at the handwritten note between the flowers. It was definitely ripped. Shit.

" She told me to..." Archie said as he looked to John and Arthur stood next to him trying to hold back their amusement. Their poor attempts not enough to stop the small snorts and sniggers they hadn't bothered to muffle from escaping.

"Yes?" Tommy said, his jaw tightening at the sight of his brothers clear enjoyment at the whole situation.

" ...to send them back" Archie said as Arthur John burst into a fit of laughs.

" Bloody hell Tommy, what woman sends flowers back? How many did you give her? John laughed as Arthur let out a loud snort.

" Seven" Archie quickly stated on behalf of him, not realising the further embarrassment it would cause the notorious gangster who had now sunk into his chair, his thumb brushing along his brow as the laughs of his brothers resonated through the betting shop.

" Alright, thanks Archie" Tommy said rubbing his hand down his face as the young boy left, leaving the bouquet of red roses with Arthur with a tip of his peaked cap.

" Seven bouquets ay" Arthur said inspecting them as Tommy looked out the window, his grandiose gesture now looking like a pathetic plea for forgiveness.

" She won't fucking talk to me will she" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as John and Arthur hunched over the table puzzling the pieces of card together you had ripped in a clear message directed at Tommy to fuck off.

" Roses are red, violets are blue..." John laughed before Tommy reached over and grabbed the note before his brother could read any more of his feeble attempt to be romantic.

" Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur said nodding to the card as he leaned against the wall, his thumbs resting in the pockets of his waistcoat.

" You what?" John said his face scrunched up as he turned to look at his eldest brother.

" It's a poem, by Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur sniffed as Tommy and John looked at each other, bewildered by the mere idea Arthur did anything other than beat their enemies within an inch of their let alone read or to be more specific read poems. Even Tommy hadn't scaled through a copious amount of books in order to find the romantic passage, the back of yesterday mornings paper had been enough. " I read" Arthur said as his brothers continued to stare at him, perplexed by what they had just heard." In me spare time"

" You're going soft" John said pointing to his brother as Tommy raised his brows shifting in his seat. " Never put Y/N down for a fan of poems"

" She's not, I was running out of things to say weren't I. Tommy replied looking over to the glass decanter of whisky calling to him. Was it too early to drown his sorrows for the billionth time that week?

" Yeh, wouldn't let her hear you say that" John chuckled placing a new tooth pick between his teeth, the other having been chewed to death by the ribbing he received from Polly and Arthur. "Why don't you just say I dunno, sorry. Like normal people do"

" She's avoiding me John, she won't give me a chance" Tommy replied as he looked out the window wishing himself into next week or better yet, next year. Maybe then you'd be more willing to talk to him.

" Well you're in luck Tom, 'cause here she is. With a face on her like thunder" Arthur smirked, nodding to the glass separating his office and the betting shop floor.

" Where is he, where is the rat bastard?!" You shouted storming through the building not stopping for anyone.

" Oh hell, what's he done now?" Polly said looking above her tea cup as you marched over to her, waving your arms erratically in the air, incoherent rambles leaving your mouth about her seconded born nephew as the three brothers watched on from behind the glass.

" I'd say you've got about five seconds" Arthur said as he looked out the window onto the back of the house.

" Jump and roll, don't land on your feet" John added to Arthur's observation as he peered over his brothers shoulder out the window.

" Else you'll do your knees in, but I reckon that's the least of your worries" Arthur said as he looked over to Tommy brushing his hands through his hair, bracing himself for the bollocking coming his way. "Shit, she's clocked you" Arthur announced turning around as your head snapped in the direction of the three of them. This was more than about the flowers, Tommy knew that. He had pried into your life for a second time. The only thing he could hope for was you didn't know about the first. And with the absence of a lethal weapon in your hand his hopes were optimistically high.

" Thomas fucking Shelby!" You shouted marching through his office, grabbing the flowers from his desk and launching them straight at his head, silently hoping Mr Patterson had left the thorns on. "You bastard! You bloody bastard"

" Look, I know you're angry but let me explain" Tommy said with his hand out as he watched yours clasp around the bronze sculpture of a horse sitting on his desk that was sure to knock him out if you threw it. After having a variety of household items thrown at him in in the past week he knew you wasn't bluffing, your face said it all you were pissed off, really pissed off.

" No I'm not angry Tommy I'm fucking furious!" you said, your face scrunched up in anger as you stared him down, waiting for him to admit what he had done.

" Arthur, John can you...can you give us a minute?" Tommy said as he walked forward only to stop when he saw your grasp on the bronze ornament tighten. " Lads, please" Tommy said gesturing to the door as he watched you in the corner of his eye. Sighing heavily Tommy turned to his desk as his brothers walked out leaving you alone together, leaving him to face yet another stupid idea he was responsible for. "Cigarette?" he offered holding his silver case out for you to take which you did, and then threw on the floor beside you. " Right" Tommy said as he sat down in his chair pinching his bottom lip together as he looked back at you, furious as the the night he had drunkenly embarrassed himself in front of the whole of Watery Lane. "You won't talk to me Y/N" he said lighting his third cigarette in the space of fifteen minutes.

" So you decided to force me to talk to you by sabotaging not one but three potential job offers"

" I didn't sabotage them. I merely informed them that you already had a job here, as my secretary" Tommy replied pointing his finger into his desk.

" But I dont do I Tommy? You fired me, remember?" You scoffed, a scoff you hoped would not only distract him but you from the tears welling in your eyes.

" Sweetheart look, can..." Tommy was about to say when your eyes narrowed in on him and he stopped himself before he infuriated you any more than you already was. " Y/N, can we talk as adults? Sit down without, throwing anything?" he said gesturing to your hand still resting on the statue.

" Are you patronising me?" You replied, your voice going up an octave at his suggestion you were being immature when for the past five years he had been far from mature himself.

" No I'm just...fuck sake, I can't win with you" Tommy replied throwing his hand up in the air as he leaned back into his chair shaking his head.

"No you can't, so stop meddling in my life Tommy. Stop ruining every chance I have to move on"

" And that's what you want? To move on?" Tommy reluctantly asked as he looked back to you, the uncomfortable weight now sitting on his chest making him wish he never asked the question at all.

" Yes" you replied turning your head, unable to face him and the truth that you couldn't and wouldn't ever be able to stop loving him, stop wanting him.

" You're lying Y/N, I could always tell when you're lying" Tommy said as he stood up slowly walking over to you like you would a wild horse.

"You need to let me be, let me move on" you sniffed back as your eyes cast down to the floor. " Isn't that what you've been doing, moving on? I gave you space Tommy, I gave you what you wanted for five years even though it was breaking my heart and all I wanted you to do was hold me in your arms" You said wiping your tears, furious at yourself for letting him see you this way.

"Then let me ey, let me hold you" Tommy said moving closer, his hand reaching out for you. " Sweetheart..."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried brushing his attempts away as you walked past him to his office door. You weren't his sweetheart, you weren't his childhood love, you weren't his girl. It was over, all of it over. " Boundaries Tommy, you need to learn some boundaries. Learn to leave me alone" you said opening his door looking back at the defeat on his face as you recomposed yourself. " And Tommy?" You said turning one last time before shutting the door. " If you call me sweetheart one more time I swear to god you'll find the sharp end of that ugly horse ornament aimed straight at your cock, and this time I promise you, I won't miss" and with that you left, shutting the door behind you as Tommy watched you walk past the glass on the opposite of his office, your head held high as you brushed your hair to one side not giving him a second glance. He had been told off look a naughty school boy, and just like a child he was in for the biggest lesson of his life, patience.

"I wasn't really going to throw it" you said sat beside Ada in the Garrison as she rocked Karl back and forth in his pram. "I mean, I was tempted" you added unable to hold back your laugh as Ada giggled into her glass of gin. " Ada I don't know what's gotten into me. I just want to kill him...all the time. And the worse part is I think he was trying to say sorry, and I didn't let him" you sighed bringing your hand up to your face as you closed your eyes, having recounted what had happened in Tommy's office and everything else in the past month to his younger sister at lightening speed. The rapid pace of your account of events clearly fuelled by the anger still lingering within you.

" Hey" Ada said moving your hand away, her face scrunched up with concern. "Nothings gotten into you, more like what's gotten out of you. Five years worth of pent up anger would drive anyone to the point of wanting to wring my idiot brothers neck" she said as she looked at the bags under your eyes, Tommy always did have a knack for making people feel as sleep deprived and knackered as him. "You've been bottling it up for far too long locked away in that flat.." she said as she raised her brow ready to give you a bitter reality check. "...not living"

" What...I've been living" you scoffed leaning back into your chair as you crossed your arms. " I'm breathing aren't I?"

" Right, tell me then. When's the last time you let your hair down and you know, had some fun?" she replied mirroring your actions, crossed armed ready for whatever lie you had convinced yourself of.

" Well, there's..." you said furrowing your brow trying desperately to think back to the last time you actually laughed, did Arthur's endearing jokes count? " Well I can't, can I? Not with him gallivanting about with god knows who stealing the fun from everyone else" you pouted, resolving to the fact you hadn't had a proper nights out in years.

" If you call moping about day and night complaining about you, then sure he's had as much fun as you" Ada replied taking a grizzly baby Karl out his pram as she lifted her blouse to feed him. " If it bothers you that much then kindly bugger off " Ada said turning to the group of workmen shaking their heads seated a few tables away as they took their glasses and moved to the bar. "And before you even say anything, that barmaid was all for show, he was angry. I'm sorry he picked the worse way possible of showing you babe" Ada said reaching her hand out for you giving it a gentle squeeze. " Why don't I set you up with someone, one of Freddie's friends, for a date" she suggested nudging her arm with yours, a mischievous glint in her eye.

" But Tommy...his your brother..I"

" Y/N stop. You're allowed to go out even if it's just for a bit of fun" She cut you off as she brought Karl up to her shoulder, gently patting his back.

" Ada Thorne, why do I get the feeling you just want me to piss him off" you squinted at her as a smile formed on the corner of your mouth. It wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. You thought to yourself knowing he had his henchman still keeping their eye on you.

" Hm, whatever made you think that?" she winked to you as the Garrison doors blew open and the very man who had been the topic of conversation for the past hour walked in. "Speak of the devil. Here he is, tail between his legs" Ada nodded to the door as she placed Karl back into his pram.

" More like a dog with a bone" you huffed as you turned to see him walking straight for you. God, what did he want now?

" Boundaries" Tommy said standing beside you as you sipped on your drink, crossing one leg over the other.

" Yes and? " you replied bluntly as you diverted your eyes elsewhere, the stained-glass of the Garrison windows for one.

"Well, I need some clarifications" he said as he walked around the table, now directly in front of you. Fuck sake.

" Clarifications, what do you want me to do write you a list?" You scoffed as Tommy carefully considered his reply. A list would make his life easier.

" Y/N, you gotta give me something. What do you want me to do?" he replied with a huff, abandoning the idea of a catalogue of what he could and couldn't do as he placed both of his hands on the table looming over you. Fuck you look tired. Was that his fault too?

" Fuck off Tommy, that's what I want you to do" you said scraping your chair back along the wooden floorboards as you got up and left the Garrison, leaving him for a second time that day clueless on what to do next.

"Oh Tommy, you won't be able to bring her around with your charm this time. I'm afraid this is something a quick fuck down by the cut won't fix. You need to try harder" Ada said as she stood up putting her coat on.

" I'm trying Ada, but she'll barely talk to me"

" Yeh I heard about your attempts to win her back. Seven bouquets of flowers, her place looked like a bloody graveyard Tommy, hardly romantic" she said rolling her eyes as she turned the pram to the door.

" How was I supposed to know she didn't like flowers any more?" Tommy huffed as he followed his sister out the Garrison. Maybe Ada knew something he didn't that would win you back...he hoped.

" You know Y/N better than anyone Tommy, you must have known she wouldn't have liked that tacky show of wealth. And don't even get me started on your attempts to get her attention" Ada said struggling to push the pram through the thick mud and dirt of Small Heath. " Do you not remember the flowers you used to pick her and how long you'd spend doing it?" Ada stopped, looking up at her brother as the realisation finally hit him. That over the top plea of forgiveness may have cost him a day's wages but only now did he realise how it must have come across. A cop out. And as Ada so rightfully said, tacky." She didn't fall in love with this Tommy, the Tommy that has to show everyone his worth, his status. She fell in love with this one" she said pulling out the gold pocket watch you had gifted him ten years ago from within his waistcoat that had been back in its rightful place for over a week. " Stop being the worst version of yourself and show her who's she been missing, who she fell in love with. And for the love of god stop being a bloody idiot" she said before turning onto watery lane as a glimmer of a smile played on the corner of Tommy's lips at his sister brutal but well-deserved parting words.

How many more people was it going to take before he let his stubbornness slide and took their advice. It would admittedly be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, no doubt driving him mad in the process. Tommy thought to himself deciding to call of his men from keeping an eye on you or as he corrected anyone who dared to challenge him on the matter, keeping you safe. If he was going to do this he would do it the correct way, without the grand displays or need of theatrics. For the first time in a long time Tommy was going let things play out at their own pace, relenting all control over the situation his was so desperate to resolve.

Tea why did you offer him a tea? You thought to yourself climbing the stairs with the friend of Freddie's Ada had set you up with. The evening had been a disaster. Henry, your date, had spent the entirety of the night talking about his one and only passion politics, something you had little to zero interest in. Opening the door to your place you mentally reminded yourself to have words with Ada about the complete bore she had set you up with and clarification as to what she considered a good night out, because this certainly wasn't it.

" Nice place" he said entering your small bedsit. Was he joking? It was the pokiest flat in Small Heath, nothing worked and you was pretty sure a small family of mice had moved in and made it their life's mission to steal any form of food you left out for more than five minutes.

" Thank you" you said gesturing for him to sit at the small table by your window as you turned to make the tea you was reluctantly going to have to prepare whether you wanted to or not. Desperate to get him to leave and as quick as possible you decided to forgo boiling any water and instead planned on making him the coldest brew of tea known to man. That would do the trick, wouldn't it? " Here" you said placing the small mug in front of him as your mind wandered to what had really been occupying your thoughts all evening. Tommy.

" That was quick" he replied scrunching his brow as he looked into the murky water, a few tea leaves floating on the top. "You not having one?"

" Oh no, not a fan of...that " you said twiddling your thumbs on your lap as you looked at the less than delightful concoction you had created.

" Did you even boil.." he started to say causing your cheeks to turn bright red as your brain scrambled to come up with an excuse when, as if you had been saved by a higher power there was a knock at that door.

" Excuse me" you said walking away, grateful for the opportunity to leave any further interrogations about your tea making skills. "Tommy..."

" Hey" he replied softly, a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth as you opened your front door. " You've company" he said clearing his throat looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at your kitchen table as he threw the small posy of flowers he had been holding behind his back along the outer wall of your bedsit.

" Tommy, I mean Mr Shelby. I...I thought you two weren't erhh" he stumbled, fumbling to grab his coat, abandoning the cold cup of tea he was sure you didn't boil any water for. "Together" he said swallowing harshly as he stood at the door beside you both.

" We're no.." you replied before Tommy cut your off.

"We are" Tommy said moving out of the way of the exit as he gestured for him to leave, irritated by the mere fact he had taken one extra second to do so. With the biggest scoff you could muster you crossed your arms as you stared him down. We are...is that what the past five years had been then, a bump in the road a bloody break?

"Thanks for ruining my date" you said marching over to the cup and throwing it's contents into the sink as Tommy shut the door behind him.

" What with Henry Coggs? Interesting choice for a date. Did he not bore you to death with his political crap?" Tommy chuckled as he watched you potter around your place trying to avoid any conversation with him.

" No, I found it really interesting actually" you lied and badly. " Tommy what do you want? I thought I told you to..."

" Fuck off?" he said sitting on the edge of your table as you stood in front of him.

" Leave me alone" you rephrased as he cocked a brow at your forgetful or intentional lack of memory as to what your actual parting words were to him in the Garrison a few days ago.

" And I have. I wanted to come here and say that you're right that..."

" Oh so you don't have to be a complete drunk to admit when you're wrong" you cut him off, your guard up ready for an argument you was sure would happen.

" You really want to start?"

" Ok then, let's hear what Tommy Shelby has to say? Actually no, forget it. Please leave" you said turning to the door when he grabbed your arm and span you back around to face him.

"Y/N can you just.." Tommy huffed as he tried to keep you in place. " Will you just hear me out?" he added as he placed his hand on your other arm, holding you in front on him. " Please?" He said as you found yourself nodding, stumped for words, slightly taken aback by his willingness to open up. " I..." Tommy said wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, his mouth suddenly going dry. Could he really do this without drinking a whole bottle of whisky beforehand?

" I've been an idiot" he said pausing as you rolled your eyes. Well that was the biggest understatement of the year. You thought to yourself as you turned to walk away again. "I broke my own heart Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong, you never did anything wrong" he said the words you never expected to hear causing you to stop. " I've..shit, I'm fucking this up" he said looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head as his mind uncomfortably replayed all times he had hurt you.

" No you're not, keep going. Please" you said turning around to face him.

"I made your life miserable Y/N, all because I couldn't stand how miserable I'd made my own. Pathetic aren't I ?" he said placing his hand back on your arm his thumb gently rubbing over the soft fabric of your blouse. " I don't expect you to ever forgive me for the five years of hell I put you through, I'd be a fool to think you would. But I need you to know that I regret everything, everything I've ever done that's hurt you, that's made you cry. It's all been my fault darling, I should have never made you think it was yours " he sighed, the words he had been wanting to say for the past week if not the past five years spilling out of him as if they had been patiently waiting there, waiting for him to break down the iron wall he had built around himself. Speechless you stood there, not knowing what to say, what to do as you let his words sink in. This was possibly the first time you had ever heard Tommy admit to anything let alone his own wrongdoings. And yet he had, and as you stood there staring at eachother in silence you finally came to realise what the other had endured, had regretted. The heartache you had both thought was your own had been a heartache shared, one that was now enveloping you both in a warm hug as you finally understood each others pain. " Its getting late I should probably go" he said breaking the silence and the small bubble you had both momentarily found yourselves in. "Goodnight Y/N " Tommy said as he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your cheek, the small embrace feeling the most natural thing for him to do in the moment as his lips lingered on your soft skin for a few seconds longer in hopes you would say something, do something. But you just stood there, his unexpected confession keeping you frozen in place as a rush of emotions that you had pushed to the side for five years came hurtling towards you.

"...night" you managed to coax from your lip's as you turned your head to watch him leave, listening intently to the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the stairs as you desperately tried to think of something to say. " Tommy wait" you called out as you ran to your door only to see he had was already left, the gate at the bottom of the stairs swinging open and close as a gust of wind blew a scattering of leaves onto the steps below you. Leaning against the door frame you brought your hand up to your head as you closed your eyes, pushing your thumb into the skin between your brows as you cursed yourself for not saying anything in response to his attempts at making amends. Was that all it took? Had you forgiven him already? You thought to yourself as you opened your eyes and looked down at the rickety wooden stairs to see a posy of flowers with a small card buried within them sitting on the weather beaten wood. Wrapping your arms around your body from the cold you sat down beside the small bouquet held together by twine. One, two, three flowers, you smiled as you counted them within the various leaves and foliage. How long had it taken him to find possibly the only three flowers still alive in Small Heath after the deluge of rain and bitter weather the whole of Birmingham had endured for the past month. You thought to yourself knowing exactly who had abandoned them on the steps in front of your home, the small gesture tugging at your memories of times before when Tommy had gone out of his way to do the very same thing. Pulling out the small card your heart skipped a beat, your eyes welling with tears at the two words staring back at you, the two words you never felt you deserved, that you felt worthy of from the very man who had written them.

"I'm sorry"

(Part Seven coming soon!)

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[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 6

First

Previous

Tim had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes for a long time. It wasn’t that he was trying to be creepy or anything, he just… didn’t know why she was there. It didn’t make sense. She was relatively low on funds according to what he and Oracle had dredged up, and even Tim in all his billionaire-ness recognized that this place was more expensive than average…

So, why had she come? It wasn’t even close to the motel she was staying at.

The vaguely paranoid -- cautious, he was cautious -- part of him worried that she had somehow known he was there, but there was no way she should have been able to know that. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to this particular cafe until he’d gotten to work and realized that there were now cameras in the breakroom and his office to make sure he didn’t drink too much.

But, really, it seemed like she was just using the free wifi that the cafe provided to write up a resume.

He relaxed and sunk back in his chair with his laptop while he did his work.

… he didn’t get to work for long.

He picked up on the slight gravel of someone putting on a voice with ease. It was high and sweet, a voice he commonly heard from customer service workers. He chanced a look back at the barista and frowned when he saw her on her phone. Not her, then.

He looked around the tiny coffee shop and cringed a little when he realized what was going on. Shady guy approaches a woman who’s drinking coffee alone? Yeah, that’s never a good thing.

He pushed his laptop into his bag quickly, slung it over his shoulders, put the cap back on his coffee cup so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell that Tim had been there for a while, and rushed over.

He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

Tim watched both of them tense and their gazes were pulled to him in an instant.

Marinette glanced him up and down once. He watched her eyes lock onto his coffee cup for a second and he carefully turned his hand a little so she could see the name.

She smiled. “You’re late, Timmy. Don’t tell me you got caught up in another meeting?”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how it is.” Then, he split into a grin. “Maybe I should be the one that’s upset, though. Can’t believe you didn’t save me a spot.”

“I tried!” She whined. “He insisted!”

The man chuckled awkwardly. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t. Can you move, though?”

“Actually,” Tim said, because he didn’t want to sit in the window where Duke might happen to see him while on patrols. “There’s a free table back this way.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side a little before nodding. “Sure.”

She closed her laptop with a snap, gathered her things into her bag, and followed him back to his table.

That should have been the end of it. Unfortunately, the guy was still watching them. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to do work for a while if they wanted to keep up the pretense that they were friends.

She seemed to know it, too, because she sighed and rested her head on her hand with a small frown. “Guess we have to talk.”

He huffed. “Don’t have to sound so upset about it.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Not sounding much more excited.”

She rolled her eyes and then brought a bright smile to her face. “Sure, Timmy, sounds great! Can’t wait to have a super fun conversation with you!”

“... nevermind. That’s weird. Why did that almost convince me? I knew it was fake.”

She let herself lean back in her chair, her face falling back to a slightly smug grin. “I’m Parisian,” she said simply.

Yeah. That made sense. Every Parisian Tim had had the (dis?)pleasure of meeting had had an almost unnerving amount of control over the way they presented their emotions.

He snickered. “Why the hell would you move here, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Our psychopath was so boring. Like, dude, we get it, your wife died or whatever, that sounds like a you problem. Now, a guy deciding to become a jewel thief purely for the gimmick? Way more interesting.”

“Moral grayness is so twenty years ago,” Tim joked.

“Exactly! Give me dumbasses who are evil purely to be evil and good to be good!”

He grinned. “I can see why you like Harry Potter.”

She blinked.

He motioned to her cup. Scrawled across it in the barista’s messy handwriting was ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’.

She relaxed a little, grinning. “I just finished the books so I’m a bit obsessed. Also, every time I tell them that my name is Marinette they misspell it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, baristas are just like that. Heck, they’ve misspelled my name before.”

“... your name is Tim.”

“They spelled it with a y.”

“... why?”

“Yes. Exactly. A y.”

She giggled a little. “No, I mean why would they do that?”

“Oh. No clue. I hope they were just messing with me.”

~

The barista was wiping down the tables. It was nearing closing time and Marinette was feeling more and more sorry for the poor workers the longer they stayed. She knew that, when she had used to work at the bakery, she had always especially hated customers that were there around closing time.

Only two tables remained occupied.

She sighed when she glanced over and saw the guy was still there.

Oh well.

She looked over at Tim. “Care to walk me a few blocks in a random direction to see if we can get rid of him?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“‘Certainly’? I may not be super great with American customs yet but even I know that’s weird,” she teased.

He huffed a little. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

His nose scrunched. “No, wait, you weren’t supposed to call me out on the fact that I didn’t have an excuse.”

“Oh. Okay, we can try again.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said again, this time in a tone that mocked the one he’d said it in the first time.

Convenient. She was intent on mocking him, too: “I’m listening.”

“You’re the worst,” he complained.

She laughed. “I am so not. Joker exists.”

“You’re worse than him,” he said in his most serious voice.

She laughed harder. “No one is worse than him.”

He grinned. “I thought you liked people that were evil purely for being evil.”

“But he’s not,” she argued. “The man just decided one day that he liked the weird guy who dressed like a bat and figured that the best way to get that guy’s attention was to murder people.”

“Gotta admit, it works,” said Tim.

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, it does. Makes me wonder what would happen if the Big Bad Bat didn’t come, though.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly and then shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. He usually stops it in time.”

“I think he’d freak out.”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned and stretched lazily, head tipping back.

“He’s still following us, isn’t he?” Asked Tim.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

He groaned a little. “Great. Looks like we’re heading to the library.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You go to libraries? You could probably buy every ebook in existence and have a few billion left over.”

“One of my sisters works there, I can ask her to get rid of the guy,” he explained. “But I like libraries. There’s something quaint about them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s nice to see how the common folk live sometimes.”

He returned her eye roll. “Not like that. I spend a lot of time staring at screens, I have a special appreciation for regular old books.”

“That’s nice. I wish I had time to sit down with a physical copy like that.”

“You see, I have this genius strategy for making time: not taking care of myself.”

“Go on, this is intriguing.”

“Well, eating and sleeping, right? Everyone thinks they’re totally necessary things otherwise you’d die or whatever. But, listen, that’s just a hoax made up by the government to perpetuate capitalism.”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally totally totally. What’s your solution?”

“Coffee communism.”

“Yes, you should use your rich boy money to lobby Congress.”

He grinned. “I totally should. But I can’t run it by my family.”

“No way! You never know who's capitalist anymore, they could be plants placed by the sleep industry to ensure that you don’t go through with it.”

He gasped. “No! You think? My own family?!”

She nodded grimly. “It’s always the ones closest to you that betray you.”

And then he broke character, snickering behind his hand. She beamed.

They reached the library and he smiled as he held the door open for her. He asked her to wait while he talked to his sister and she waved him off casually, telling him to take his time.

She pulled out her phone and pressed her lips together thinly as she made a note to head over later that night to give the man -- Henry -- his money. She’d give him a little tip because, for a moment there, she’d almost forgotten that they were just acting. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to purposely trigger herself for the sake of believability but, hey, if she was going to try and dupe one of the smartest businessmen alive into talking to her, she needed to go all out.

Speaking of Tim, she updated the file of Tim’s favorite cafes plus the probabilities of him visiting each one. It was for his oldest brother, Richie Wayne. She didn’t know why Richie was the one to ask for it seeing as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven and therefore likely wouldn’t find much use in it, but no one ever really knew why Richie Wayne did anything. The man famously had almost as much cotton between his ears as his father.

But, Richie Wayne was also just as rich as his father, so… she’d give him his file later that night after checking her math with her favorite graphing calculator.

A redhead in a wheelchair rolled past Marinette and she absently held the door open for her, only to be surprised when she cursed out Henry.

She watched as Henry held his hands up and started backing away from the woman in the wheelchair, and then he ran down the nearest alley.

(… she’d give Henry a bigger tip. The man had just wanted a tiny side job to help pay for his wife and kids that wasn’t being a henchman, he didn’t deserve this.)

She opened the door for the woman on her way back inside and mumbled her thanks. The woman nodded once and continued on her way.

Marinette leaned back against the wall again and scrolled through Twitter as she waited for Tim to reappear. Apparently, Poison Ivy was already back in Arkham. Something about an intern at the botanical gardens watering plants wrong. Wild.

Marinette felt someone sidle up beside her and, after a quick glance confirmed that it was Tim, pocketed her phone.

He smiled at her, a tote bag over his shoulder.

“Did you go grocery shopping while I wasn’t looking, somehow?”

He hesitated before holding it out to her. “It’s the French dubs of the Harry Potter movies.”

She blinked as the bag was thrust into her hands and looked down at it. Yep, that was Harry Potter in French. She also, vaguely, noted the tiny slip of paper his phone number scrawled across it.

She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to return these. You’re going to rack up so much debt.”

~~~

NightwingsAss9384: does anyone know why nightwing and canary hate each other?

ScareCrane: She stabbed Batman once on accident and somehow got away with blaming it on him

Daylightwing: She refuses to let B adopt her.

RiddleMeThis: They think it’s funny when their stans fight.

SignalOfficial: They said ‘I’m the only flippy bitch allowed in New Jersey’ and have been fighting ever since

Yummmmmm: He has to or else Robin will get jealous because he’s the only stabby sibling allowed

Oracle: They’re fighting over who gets to change their name to ‘The Dodo’ first.

DeadHood: Nightwing is jealous that Canary was the first one of us to think to have a full-on bird mask.

TheBetterCanary: every time i go into the batfam tag to try and avoid them all i see is his fancams

SpoilerAlert: they’re both convinced that they’re the hottest bachelor/bachelorette in gotham

NightwingsAss9384: im beginning to think no ones going to tell me.

BlackBat: :)

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje

[petersnya]

SOMETIMES PT.3

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

Warnings: Angst (alotttt. I’m sorry lol)

Word count:1873

[A/N] So that there’s no smut in this part but it is SO worth it (trust me I hate when there’s no smut but this part is so SO GOOD)this part kinda like, BROKE my heart… ok it DID break my heart…  SEND ME YOUR FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST FOR EACH CHAPTER! ENJOY… (send a request for anything you want me to write or if you have any ideas)

-J.T.S xxx

PART ONE  PART TWO

Ever since the incident at the drive-in theater, Y/N has been avoiding Peter. Whenever MJ, Peter, and Ned would walk out of school together, Y/N wouldn’t be leaning out of the window of the car smiling and waving at them. She would have the window rolled up and looked either straight out the ahead or down at her phone. 

Peter told Ned about the whole situation but didn’t tell MJ. He knew she would kill him because Y/N is her cousin and their like sister towards each other. 

“Peter I don’t know what your gonna do, but you gotta do it fast cause sooner or later MJs’ gonna find out and your not only gonna lose the girl you have a major crush on but also your best friend,” Ned pointed out to Peter. Peter didn’t want to admit it but he was right. He had to come out with the truth to Y/N one way or another. He had to tell her that he does like her and that he lied about the stark internship. 

He had to tell her that he was Spider-Man.

“Yeah Ned, I guess you right.”

“I am right Pete. Now go get your Princess Leia,” Ned teased as the bell rang, signaling that it was time for them to leave. The two boys made their way out of the building, talking about their project they still had yet to finish. They didn’t see MJ around like how she usually is until they heard familiar voices coming from behind them. 

“Here’s your schedule and your and the supply list. You can also sign up for clubs if you would like,” an administrator said.

“I’ll think about it. That you so much.” there it was. That voice. It was Y/N talking to the administrator. But I thought she was homeschooled? Peter thought to himself, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. It’s not like it was a bad thing that Y/N was coming to Midtown, but MJ told him that she really wasn’t the type to go to school. She hated big crowds of people and was never really good at making friends. 

“Ok well, I can’t wait to have you as a new student at Midtown!”

Peter and Ned looked at each other with wide eyes then turned fully around to see who was behind them, even though they already knew by the voices. “Peter…”

“Ned,” he said to the tan boy next to him. They were both in shock by what they just heard.

“Y/N’s going to Midtown?” they said in sync. 

“Yes, she is,” MJ added as she and her cousin walked over to stunned boys. Ned sent them both a smile and Y/N sent him one back with a small ‘hi’. Peter couldn’t help but notice that something was different about her. 

She’s not wearing her glasses.

The four of them walked out of the building together, telling Y/N about all the teachers and classes at the high school. She also explained that she was tired of being homeschooled and wanted to have something to do outside of her one personal bubble. This new information didn’t make much sense to Peter. She seemed so happy when she was at home from what he could see. 

Ned said goodbye to the two girls before heading over to the bus, beckoning Peter over. 

“Later MJ, b-bye Y/N.” 

“See ya, Parker,” MJ responded before getting into the passenger side of the car, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. 

“Hey! Feet off the dashboard dude,” Y/N yelled at her cousin. MJ mocked her expression before chuckling lightly- keeping her feet on the dashboard. “Goodbye, Peter,” she said coldly, turning back to Peter before getting into the driver’s side, pulling away from the curb before speeding off down the road.

“I miss you.” 

The brown-eyed boy whispered to no one, but it was meant for Y/N. He truly did miss her. Even if they had met only one week ago, that same surge of energy raced through him. Peter knew this wasn’t an ordinary crush- he didn’t know what it was. But he knew he couldn’t afford to lose it. He felt like he was falling apart without her. He didn’t intend to be that rude to her that night at the drive-in, it just happening and he regretted it the second he did it once he saw that heartbroken-hearted look on her face. But instead of apologizing to her, he just sat there.

��Sup penis Parker!” a kid named flash yelled and he sped by him, causing Peter’s brown curly hair to fall into his face. Great. 

“Hey kid, I ain’t got all day. Ya getting on or not?” the bus driver said to Peter. He slumped his shoulders and lugged himself into the bus, taking his seat next to his best friend. “It’s gonna be ok man,” Ned told Peter, trying to comfort him. 

I hope so.

///

Peter was late-night patrolling as he usually did and spotted MJ’s place. Not being able to restrain himself he swung over to the building next to it. He noticed that that same room light was on that was on the first time he stopped by MJ’s on a night patrol as Spider-Man. 

Looking through the window to the lit room, he saw Y/N. she was sitting on her bed, her legs crisscrossed as she wrote something down in a thick, brown, leather-backed journal. 

He smiled at the sight before him. Y/N was wearing the glasses. She pushed them up on her face with her knuckle and continued them to write. Someone must have called her name because she got up from her position on the bed and left her room. 

Curiosity took over Peter as he swung over the ledge of the fire escape that was right at Y/N’s window. He peered into it and used his mask to focus closely on the open journal sitting on the bed. It was a letter:

Dear dad, 

I can’t do this anymore. I miss you so much. You were what made me smile every day, and you still do. But I thought I had found someone who could make me smile even more. He’s beautiful dad. He has amazingly curly brown hair and the brightest brown eyes I had ever seen. His smile made me smile just like how your smile made me smile. He was the one that convinced me to wear my glasses… your glasses. Not MJ. not mom. He did. I thought he liked me as much as I liked him, but I was wrong. And now I can’t stop thinking about what you told me: some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes. I think he was the one dad, the wrong one. The one I wasn’t supposed to be with. But why does it hurt so much? I’ve been preparing for this to happen to me ever since you told about false love. But now that it actually happened, I cant take it. I cant let him go. But I-

The letter stopped. And anyone could tell that Y/N had been crying as she wrote it- there were tear strains covering the page. 

Peter felt lightheaded. Tears flooded his chocolate eyes and he unfocused his mask from the page. He slumped down, his back not facing the window. He was hurt. It felt like everything in the world had stopped, as time had frozen. He couldn’t bear to know the fact that he hurt Y/N so much to the point she thinks it’s her fault. 

He yanked the mask off of his face, his cheeks burning a shade of crimson just like his eyes. Peter ran a shaky hand through his hair, gripping it as he grounded out in frustration. 

Letting go he slammed his fist against the brick behind him, yelling out in pain. But not physical pain. He felt like someone just ripped out his heart and stomped on it. 

“Hello?” Peter jumped at the voice coming from inside of Y/N’s room. Nows your change Peter. Just go tell her the truth. That’s what one side of Peter said, the other side was the opposite. You cant tell her now, she’ll just hate you more. You have to wait for the right moment. 

But when was the right moment?

“MJ, did you hear that or am I fucking crazy?” Y/N asked as she exited the room. Peter took this chance to get away without being seen. He made his way but to his shared apartment with Aunt May. Entering his room and sitting on his bed, tears ran down his face as he silently sobbed.

///

“Students, I need your attention,” everyone quieted down their own conversations to hear what was about to be said. “I would like to introduce you to our new student, Y/N,” Peter’s head snapped but to look to the front of the class. His eyes landed on Y/N. he couldn’t help but admire her outfit. She was wearing high-waisted but loose, flared jeans with a grey Slytherin sweatshirt and black converse- ones like MJs. her fingers were covered in rings and she has a small necklace. There was a bag draped over her shoulder and her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail. She was holding her glasses in her hand, not daring to put them on.

Not in front of all these people. More importantly, in front of Peter. 

Her head hung and she stared at her feet, twisting the ring on her thumb. The teacher told that she could take a seat at an empty chair, and just to her luck, Ned wasn’t at school that day. So she was forced to sit next to Peter. She didn’t want to argue so she took her seat and sat there quietly not daring to even glance at the boy next to her. 

Half an hour went by and Peter noticed Y/N fidgeting next to him. Her hands were shaking, her ears were turning bright red and she shook the table from how much she was bouncing it. She was taking notes but the handwriting was illegible she was consistently squinting at the board, trying to read what was being written. 

“Hey Y/N, are you ok?”

“Fine,” she let out shakily, avoiding eye contact with Peter. He grabbed her hand, causing her to look him in the eye. Y/N’s eyes were red, tears swelling in the corners. 

“We’re going to the bathroom. Now.” 

“No Peter I’m f-fine.”

Peter grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling out of the chair and into his arms, picking up their belonging with his free arm. They snuck out the back door to the classroom he and Ned used to sneak out of. 

Walking through the halls, Y/N’s breath became shallow. “Peter, peter I wanna go home. Please take me home. There are too many people in there. They were all looking at me a-and I didn’t want them to look at me. MJ. Peter where is MJ. I need-” 

“Ssshhh, relax Y/N. I’m gonna take you home,” Peter said, rubbing her back. She nodded her head at him as they walked through the back doors of the school. 

SORRY THAT THIS PART WAS SHORT BUT THE NEXT ONE WILL BE LONG AND I HAVE SOME REALLY GOOD SURPRISE COMING IN THE NEXT PARTS. I LOVE YOU GUYSSSSS

-J.T.S xxx

@love-granger

@moonlightbaby10

@oakiedokie

@hallecarey1

@tomhollandreader

[msmkcreates]

AuraFell InfoDump

Hello! As some of you may already know, I have created my own AU called AuraFell! It doesn't have any Tale/Swap/Swapfell/etc counterparts yet, so this is completely new!

I'm going to dump everything I have to start with this AU below the cut. If you want to wrote or draw this AU please ask, it's still in New AU stages so I want it to be done right! But I'm very easygoing and I would love for more content to me made so don't be afraid (:

More info below the cut, it's a mess of about 7k words so bear with me!

AuraFell:

Let's start with the magic system. Most monsters have the same type of magic as regular AUs, nothing special. If they have an aura, it's weak or hard to use.

Boss Monsters, though, have Auras that are strong and super effective.

Boss monsters in this AU (that ive developed) are:

-Papyrus (Mockingbird)

-Sans (Terror)

-Asgore (Dad)

-Toriel (Auntie)

-Undyne (Shrill)

-Alphys (Professor)

-Mettaton (Signal)

-Grillby (Ozone)

-Frisk (Kiddo)

And the deceased ones with powers thus far:

-Gaster (Doctor...deceased)

-Asriel (Giver...deceased...?)

-Chara (Pal....deceased)

Nicknames! So nicknames are actually given to Boss monsters by the ones their aura effects. They all for some reason call them that name.

Aura powers fall under two categories, with subcategories. If your aura is in the same category, you're resistant to the other's power. If you have the same category AND subcategory, you're immune.

Ambient Auras: These are Auras that are area of effect, sort of. They are focused in one way or another but generally present at all times.

-Visual: This means the Ambient Aura is focused with a visual effect (flashing colors, a friendly smile, the written word)

-Audial: This means the Ambient Aura is focused with sound (humming, singing, spoken word)

Given Aura: This aura type must be administered physically somehow. It is not ever-present but can be "stowed" or "kept". The effect is imbued to an object or physically given somehow.

-Present: This means the Given Effect must be given through an item (a baked good laced with the effect, a gift, etc)

-Physical: This means the given effect must be administered through physical contact (a bite, a kiss, skin to skin contact)

Let's start with the skeleton Brothers' powers

Papyrus, AKA Mockingbird

-His Aura is called Lullaby. He makes people fall asleep. He usually does this by humming or singing. It can effect one person immediately or multiple with a delay. 

-His favorite lullaby to hum is "Hush little baby" (you know. The one where Mama is gonna buy you a Mockingbird...) and perhaps that's why everyone calls him Mockingbird

-He used to think he had no powers because he didn't know how to focus it, and his Category/Subcategory is the same as Sans AND Undyne (whom he spent the most time with) so neither were ever affected

- Category/Sub is Ambient (Audial)

Sans (Terror)

-His aura is called Modify Memory, but nobody knows that. He can speak to a sleeping person and influence their dreams, or speak a story to an woken person and they will legitimately remember that it happened that way. Again, it's most effective when focused on one person, and the details fuzz or change if he tries to stretch it to more people

-He pretends to be affected by Mock's lullaby. He's incredibly fast, agile, and strong, and he pretends he's only a good fighter when he's unconscious. This way nobody will risk a surprise knockout and they'll cooperate with him when Mock threatens to put him to sleep. He modifies people's memories so they will spread by word of mouth that the unconscious fighting is his power, not modify memory

-Category/Sub: Ambient (Audial)

Speed run through the others:

-Toriel (Auntie) makes pies or any baked good that are more addictive than any drug. Category/sub: Given (Present)

-Asgore (Dad) has Big Dad Energy and everyone wants to impress him, to an extreme. He's so strong he affects most of the Underground without knowing it, and to his horror most of the Underground seems to think that murdering others and getting stronger is the way to impress him. He focuses with spoken word but it's mostly unnecessary at this point. Ambient (Audial)

-Grillby (Ozone). Hypnosis. Pretty flame colors. Leaves his victims open to suggestion. Ambient (Visual)

-Muffet (? Nickname tbd) makes a paralyzing poison. She has figured out how to put it in her pastries but it's best delivered by bite. Given (Physical)

-Undyne (Shrill) has the command power. People follow a command from her. Longer instructions if focused on one, one simple instruction if aimed at multiples. Ambient (Audial)

-Alphys (Professor). People take whatever she says as fact as long as it's written in her handwriting. Ambient (Visual)

-Mettaton (Signal). His TV programs are brainwashing propaganda. He can convince people to buy or sell anything if they are watching him through a screen. Ambient (Visual)

-Frisk (Kiddo) radiates friendship with a smile. Ambient (visual)

-Gaster (Doctor) used to be able to say anything and people would believe him. Ambient (Audial)

-Chara (Pal) was able to convince anyone to be friendly to them no matter what they'd done. Ambient (Audial)

-Asriel (Giver) could give you a rock and you'd well up with grateful feelings. Given (Present)

So 

yeah that's the basics, that's the big peeps in that world. Basically it isn't really Asgore's fault the place is so fucked up he's just very old and powerful and the violence is mostly people trying to impress him (poorly).

Gaster is Terror and Mock's Dad but he died when they were young, 8 and barely 2. He died trying to save Asriel and Chara when he accidentally dropped a barrier-breaking theory that Asriel then took as fact because of Gaster's aura.

Toriel moved almost immediately after the children's deaths, and Asgore did his best to raise Terror and Mock until Terror was old enough to take Mock to live in their house in Snowdin (about 14 and 8 years old)

Snowdin is a really bad place now though bc Toriel (Auntie) has been giving away her pies at the ruins gates, and people are killing and hurting each other for enough G or whatever they think she wants to get the next fix. She's kinda lost it at this point, she keeps feeding them out of some twisted need to be needed

Terror was old enough and smart enough to know "yeah, let's not eat that". They're immune to Asgore's power bc they are the same types, but they still want to impress him the normal kid-wants-to-impress-dad amount so they never tell him when they need more support out of some sense of pride. 

Mock was a bit of a runt well into teenage years. His magic was very slow to grow. He got picked on a lot, kids stole his lunch money and roughed him up and such. He would hum his favorite lullabies to himself to calm his anxiety, and wouldn't you know it, but one day it put everyone to sleep!

So sometimes he doesn't even realize he's humming, he does it to calm his nerves, he a nervous bean, but he also  knows from the one time someone injured his socket that earplugs are good enough to slow his effects

He also learns pretty quickly that junkies don't sleep for long and they are way stronger than he anticipated so, he racks up some of his LV for stuff like that.

He also likes tea because his powers depend on him being able to hum/sing

[nimblermortal]

Okay, so:

y'all should read sagas You may have noticed that there's not a huge Independent People fan base (outside of Iceland). It's kind of a The Long Ships situation where everyone who has read it goes "Wow, that was incredible" (and also "holy crap this reads like a book that got a Nobel Prize for Literature in the fifties") and yet nearly no one has read it. But the weird thing about the non-Icelandic fan base is that it doesn't seem to read other Icelandic literature and I know that everything on my blog is Norse and I am always on about sagas, and I am personally insulted by every Tolkein fan who has never read the Eddas but also having that basis in Icelandic history and values gave me a really useful perspective in how this is an Icelandic book for Icelandic people, and the whole thing about independence as a value is an extremely Icelandic thing, and Halldor Laxness is mocking the national identity in a way that like. idk, how would I phrase this to Americans? Imagine if, oh, there were a story about Nancy Drew that ruthlessly mocked her at all times for her ingenuity and initiative. That the initiative and entrepreneurial spirit of Iron Man were being framed as inherently bad. (Ignore, for the moment, everything else wrong with Marvel and billionaires.) Just the central conceit being that if you try hard enough, and follow your dreams, and work hard, and start your own business, then you should be a laughingstock among your people. There's something like that going on in Independent People.

2. one day perhaps I will finish that fanfiction

How do you even get someone who is so rigidly focused on being an Independent Person the way Bjartur is? There's the Icelandic identity, sure, but he takes it to a fascinating extreme. So, as sometimes happens when I don't understand something, I started writing it until I do. So one day, perhaps, I will have to create a fandom on AO3 for the rest of this:

For six years Bjartur was on the parish, a parasite, a parishite on the bailiff's household. The reverend-that-was told the bailiff that he'd found the boy and he could damn well keep him, there were enough on the church's registers, and so with great grumbling the bailiff's wife took him in and taught him to spin and knit and make less of a burden of himself... At least the bailiff would spin a book around and there was a page, the page covered in tiny handwriting and cramped numbers and the bailiff's finger pointing to one small line. "That's how much you cost this month," he would say. "And what is the total you owe?" And Bjartur would stand there, limbs trembling, a small boy, tiny, smaller even than the line of script, holding fast and trying and trying to think until he either said a sum incorrectly or the bailiff gave up on him and named a number, and Bjartur was never certain which was worse. "There," the bailiff would say, naming a number, and in that patented sarcasm he would add, "and can you tell me whether that is bigger or smaller than last month, Bjartur?" It was always bigger. Bigger, vastly bigger than the boy himself, who cowered in the shadow of that spiky handwriting. "I have deducted the cost of the socks you wove this month," the bailiff would say, and that was Bjartur's cue that he could go.

3. I should reread this book (once I've reread Network Effect, and Alexander McCall Smith's stories from Africa, and read The Simple Art of Perfect Baking, and Growing Up Weightless, and both Grágás-es, and the new Murderbot books I got Hyacinth for Christmas)

I clicked on your blog because of Asta Sollilja posting and immediately find Hannigram content. Followed. Any more strong opinions about *Independent People*?

*trying vaguely to remember who Asta Solilja is* sorry the covid booster's kicking my butt today OH Independent People man let me get back to you in like 24 hours