#since this scene popped in my head after i thought about a post i wrote a while ago don't worrh about it

[epickiya722]

Fun fact about His Following, nobody asked or cares, I'm finally to the chapter I get to write the scene that has been stuck in my head since His Role. That fic came out in late February... we're in September... and there has been two fics in between...

[vacayisland]

I have the largest hyper fixation on Floyd right now. Funny little troll being way too cute for it to be legal.

do you think you could write a story where a male / Non-binary reader that's like, a large person thing, (You can make them part animal if possible, I like the idea of Floyd hiding in the readers fur for comfort.) is reunited with Floyd after he was stick in the diamond perfume bottle for 2 months. And they just give Floyd a bunch of comfort cuddles and other stuff.

Take all the time you need to rest and drink water, if you can't do my request, that's perfectly fine. I hope you have an amazing day / night!

-A non-binary bee 🐝

@!; Floyd with a part-animal Reader! Floyd / Half-animal! Half-Troll! Reader

"Summary"! Couldn't tell if you meant big like tall or big like cubby... so why not both? :D Anyways, there are more headcanon style with little stories in it. Dunno when I'll post this (I have like 5 other stories backed up b/c my mind can't decide what to write); But I hope you like it Bee! Tags! Floyd literally being everything, no pronouns mentioned so feel free to use your own, hurt-comfort, NOT PROOF READ... also wrote in one sitting... in one day. AND TUMBLR KEPT GLITCHING ON ME AND THE PITCTURE BORDER ISN'T WORKING ON DESKTOP-. anyways please enjoy <3

@!; Floyd has known you since his band days, which was a shock to his brothers when they finally met you. Not only are you taller than an average troll (a foot or so) yet you're also different; and mostly in a good way, but take what you will about the fact that Branch noticed your differences first. When Floyd first met you, it was 2 months into his boyband career with Brozone. He went out on a walk to clear his head before a big show, anxious feels were never good to go on stage with and his brothers didn't help much. Mostly John Dory, who kept speaking about his "perfect" plan to the show. Just thinking about messing up anything made Floyd more nervous than preforming, he really didn't want to let his brothers down; as he's seen them preform before he was able to join on the scene. So while JD ranted, Spruce worked out, and Clay was fitting into his costume, Floyd went out on a needed walk. That's when he found you;

You were stood up top a mountain cliff near the Pop troll village, looking down with your majestic eyes and ears relaxed down by your side. Floyd stood by the village though hid in the shade of the plants nearby to watch. He didn't want to scare you off, especially since he's never seen anything quite like you. You seemed memorized by the lights of the Pop troll village, if not maybe a little intoxicated by them; like a moth to the flame. Floyd was memorized by your shiny coat, which he could barely see against the night sky and the bright colors of the village. You didn't seem to notice him at all as you laid down at that cliff, crossing your paws and laying your muzzle down on them. Floyd wasn't sure why but watching you watching the lights of the village calmed his nerves. Even though it was still a little nerve racking thinking that an animal so big knows were the village was; an animal who could possibly eat Trolls. Yet, that thought was quickly wavering out of his mind the more passive you seemed. @!; Floyd almost missed the show that night, Spruce had to go find him before JD blew a fuse. He was questioned like hell the few seconds before the show and then afterwards, yet he couldn't exactly tell his brothers that he saw an animal watching the village and that's what he was doing. They would be both over worried and a little relentless in scolding him for getting so close to something that could eat trolls. His absence of an answer, and his general dodging of the brothers questions (when that was so not like Floyd) led them all to assume that Floyd met a Troll that had caught his eye. Floyd tried to protest against this, yet was a little flustered at the fact that all his brothers seemed to jump on that conclusion train so quickly. So, that only solidified his brother's theories more and thus began the hunt. All his brothers kept an extra eye on Floyd, trying to see who the lucky Troll had been who caught there ever so sensitive brother's eyes. Despite all their "sneaky" tracking and slight stalking, they came up with nothing. Floyd was determined to let them not know what, or maybe who, he actually saw that night. So he didn't see you again until his brothers gave up on their little hunt and let Floyd to his own devices. Especially after he almost messed up a show due to nerves from not being able to go out on a walk without his brother's bombardment; JD wasn't happy. 3 months after first seeing you, Floyd was able to catch a glimpse of you again. Before a show, he looked out the window (not needing to go out on a walk that night) and saw your figure again in the distance on the same hill. You were relaxed again, laying down and looking intently towards the Village. In some weird sense, Floyd had a funny thought that you were here to listen to the concert; seeing as he didn't see you on any other night than concert nights. Yet, he shook that thought out of his head really quick, not thinking that you could like Brozone music. Not that it was because you weren't a Troll, but because he thought it was too loud for your ears; he's read somewhere that animal ears tended to be more sensitive than Troll ears. But then why would you be so close to the Village? The thought stuck in Floyd's mind all throughout the performance and when he checked if you were still at the cliff after the show, you were gone. He couldn't tell if it was because of the noise or because the show had ended; but he felt a little disheartened.

@!; Floyd would play this one-sided game of eye-spy for months before he spotted a night when you weren't you. He had began to make it a habit to leave you a little plate of food (well little for you) before every Brozone performance. His personal thank you for watching the show despite your (maybe) sensitives ears. He was going to go place the plate of food at the top of the cliff when he stopped midway through his hike to see a Troll standing at the top of the cliff. At least, it looked like a Troll? Yet they seemed taller, even more so when Floyd slowly approached closer. Your hair also was more abundant than other Trolls, even for adults. He was cautious as he approached you, keeping the plate of food close to him as he tried to scope out who you were before he interacted. Yet before he could figure out who you were, you snapped your head around to stare into the dead of night . . . directly at him. Floyd froze, not sure if you could see him or not and not wanting to find out. Though it was light you weren't even a Troll for a second, taking in a sniff before your hair stood up for a moment; prickling like a cat's hair standing up when frightened. Slowly you approached him with heavy footsteps, your height slowly growing in the moonlight as your shadow was drawn out. For a moment Floyd thought he was as good as dead. He didn't know what to do! Frazzled, he quickly shoved out the plate of food he had indented for his friend and not this stranger about to commit (possible) cannibalism. And that's when he heard your footsteps come to a stop and a heavy huff from someone's nose hit the top of his head, causing him to cautiously open one eye. And he felt like fainting as soon as he did that. Though he couldn't help opening both eyes in complete terror seeing a Troll tower over him in an unnatural height. Your eyes pierced down at him, their glow in the moonlight somehow familiar yet Floyd could not piece it together at this moment of panic. "Please don't eat me!" Floyd blurted out, the only thing between him and you being a plate of food. Yet you didn't answer, at least not right away. Your silence was as terrifying as your glare and staggering height. "I promise you I don't taste good!-" The words fell out before Floyd had even realized he had said them, watching with terror as you leant down. He wasn't sure what you were doing, but he hoped it wasn't serving your next meal's horror before deciding whether or not you should eat him. Yet there was something in your eyes that softened, a small smile that seemed to creep onto your lips. And for once after meeting you in this form, Floyd felt like he wasn't going to get mauled. Which was a good thing, a really good thing... For him at least. "So you're the one who's been leaving me food!" Your voice was not at all how he imagined it, as it seemed to carry some sort of friendliness he's not even heard from some Trolls. It was also a bit rougher, your English oddly unperfected for a Troll for the age Floyd guessed you were. "I-.. uh, what?" Though what did you mean Floyd was leaving you food? Maybe you were confusing him for someone else, or maybe you were eating the food he intended for his friend. Either way he tried to clear the confusion, "I'm sorry no, I don't think so. I've been leaving food here for.." "Yes, for me." You interrupted Floyd before he could finish, giving him a rather big grin. Yet, no matter how friendly you seemed, your words caused him to become that more confuddled. Even more so when you held out your hands flat, as though you were expected Floyd to just hand you the plate ... really incorrectly. He thought for a brief moment that you may be related to the animal that perches itself at the cliffside, though he didn't think too long on that possibility; as would it even be possible?

Either way, to save some trouble for now, Floyd carefully handed you the plate of food; watching as you held it from the bottom flat in your hands and grinned brighter before rushing off to the side of the cliff. He wasn't sure if he should follow you or not. "Come, friend! We eat to show!" You gestured for Floyd to follow as you sat at the iconic cliff he's seen the animal so many times. And despite his hesitation, and his logicality telling him not to, he deiced to join the Troll. I mean, what could be the harm? Floyd almost missed his performance that day. JD wasn't happy yet, oddly enough, something inside Floyd made him rather indifferent. Not uncaring, because he always cared about his brothers feelings and letting down JD was last on his list; yet, he didn't care as much as he should have. And that caught him by suprise. He wondered if it had to do something with you...

@!; The day the band broke up, Floyd went to seek you first. You two had grown close after the countless nights you spent upon the cliff, chatting and eating. Floyd just couldn't stand being able to leave without giving you a proper goodbye, you have been his closest friend outside his family after all. He found you lower on the cliff this day, still stalking in your animal form. Your ears were completely pinned back, and he was sure you had saw what had happened during that performance; it was the biggest disaster storm ever. "Hey! H-" Floyd didn't even have to call you twice before you perked up, snapping your attention over to him. He grew sheepish seeing your sudden smile, and he could only guess you had been utterly worried about him since the performance. Though he didn't expect you to be so worried you would bound towards him on all fours, causing him to yelp and quickly brace for impact. Yet, you never hit, and Floyd heard as you skidded yourself to a stop right in front of him and plopped down on your bottom. Letting out an excited yelp before licking him once, then twice. Causing him to laugh and try to push your snout away, a silent signal for you to turn back into a Troll. Which you didn't seem to get the hint for instantly, as you licked him thrice before standing up and twirling in a circle. Laughing, Floyd covered his eyes and let you turn back, opening them only when he heard your voice again; "Floyd! What in the hell happened out there?! One minute you guys were doing fine and it seemed like-" Your voice was as lovely as ever, and Floyd instantly felt a pang in his heart knowing he wouldn't be able to hear it as often anymore. His face became rather gloomy at that sudden realization he hadn't thought of before now. Maybe visiting you wasn't- no, he can't think like that! You deserved the truth as much as Branch did. He can't simply walk off and keep you sitting here, watching and wondering where he had gone for years on end. That wasn't right. "(y/n)!" Floyd jolted at the suddenness of his voice, and how firm it sounded. He didn't mean for his words to come out so harsh, though your ranting didn't do much to help his heart... or the decision he knew he had to make. Oh and your eyes, the way they shone in the moonlight. Floyd could see how startled he had made you, as he's never used such a voice with you; yet it had done the job and hushed you up, even for now. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you. I just-" Floyd's lip twitched as he thought for the easiest way to blow this to you. The easiest way to let you down after all the nights you had spent together. The easiest way for him to accept everything that was happening and everything he had to do and everything that needed to be done.. but oh poor Branch and poor you, neither of you deserved this- "Floyd.. it's okay." Floyd was brought back to his thoughts, snapped back with the feeling of your hands grabbing his and your voice echoing in his ears. He opened his seized eyes and glanced up at yours; you were leaning down again, and Floyd laughed through the tears he didn't realize were spilling down. "You're doing it again.." Floyd mumbled, his voice wobbly. Your hands raced to his cheeks, cupping them and undoubtably feeling the hot, wet tears streaming down as you began to clear them. Floyd dropped his hands to his sides, they felt all to heavy right now. "No you're doing it again." Your voice was uncharacteristically steady, none if it's usual fluctuating like a dog excited to see it's owner. "You're overthinking and... and thinking of everyone else before you think about yourself! Floyd, whatever you're going to say to me, whatever you're keeping in that mind of yourself, you're going to tell me now, okay? And you're going to tell me and you're not going to worry about how I feel and you're going to be firm on your decision... because you're strong and we're friends and I won't be mad with you no matter what you tell me."

@!; That night, Floyd knew, for sure, that he was in love with you. And that made telling you all that harder as his heart yelled at his brain to stay, but his brain knew that they couldn't go back on their choice. He had to leave, even if for a week or month or year. He knew he needed space from the Village and everyone inside.. but not you and Branch. Defiantly not you. And oh the broken look in your eyes got him, but the way you tried to smile through it and agree that the space is what he needed made him fall even more in love. You were so strong, you kept to your word... Maybe Floyd could stay one more night. And he did, he cuddled up with you for his last night in the Village; you both watched the stars, all cozied up in your hair. And god, has Floyd never felt a Troll's' hair so soft. He almost couldn't pull himself out from it in the morning when you were still clinging onto him, trapping him with both your body and your hair. He felt tempted to doze back to sleep, yet knew he had to leave now (while he still had the will power) then wait before you woke up. He knew if he saw your broken look again, that look in your eyes that you could never hide, he couldn't bring himself to leave. So when you woke up in the morning, you found yourself alone; completely alone in a middle of your blanket made of your hair. Floyd had left before you had woke up and you would find yourself sulking in that position for longer than you would have thought.

@!; You didn't see Floyd again, yet you heard from him up till a few years into his exploration of the unknown; journeying to find himself in the chaotic world beyond the village. You didn't leave from the outskirts of the Pop village, as that's were you had figured out you could thrive the most without interacting with other Trolls or animals. So when Floyd's letters began to run dry, you knew it wasn't because he didn't know where to send it. No that's never been a problem before, especially with the bugs that were used to deliver the messages so they never went through Troll post. You had first thought that he had forgotten to write a letter that day and he would send you one tomorrow. He didn't. You then figured he was just somewhere where he couldn't right or get a bug to deliver the letter. But after a month of sitting and waiting anxiously, you figured that couldn't be the reason either. Floyd never stayed in a place for this long, and the letter he had sent you last made it sound like he was going to a place where he could continue to send letters. Another option came to mind, what if Floyd had just stopped sending letter because he just grew tired of you? He found someone else who captured his attention better than you did! Who could write in pretty cursive and spell words and speak correctly. Who could bake for him pies and cupcakes, who could sing and dance with him in the proper way that a Troll could. That was the first day you ever felt truly alone ever since Floyd left. Sure, you missed him dearly; Missed his smile and his caring ways and his company but never did you ever feel truly lonely. The type of lonely that made you upset and aggravated. The type of lonely that stung more than a throne in your paw, or a bee sting. The type of lonely that made you think back on all the memories you had with Floyd and made you think two different thoughts all at once: What was the point? Can I get those times back? It was torture. Two months of agonizing torture that ate you up inside with no remorse.

@!; Two months inside that horrible diamond prison, Floyd was finally free. Sure he had some white in his hair now, and felt fatigue come onto him easier when singing, but he was free; Free and with his brothers heading back to the Pop Troll village where Brozone (kind of reestablished) was going to chill for a minute before maybe going back their separate ways. "Oh my god, did we ever tell you that Floyd use to have a crush in the village when he was younger?!" JD turned around from the console of his caterpillar-like trailer, a snicker plastered right across his face. His comment instantly flipped the attention of everyone else, who had been lounging around the 'living space' of the trailer and chatting about nothing exciting. At least, nothing exciting to John Dory. "Oh! I almost forgot about that!" Bruce started as Branch looked between his brothers, noticing as Floyd let out a small groan and covered his face. "Oh not this gain..." Floyd mumbled, though not completely under his breath. "What?! JD you have to be joking right now!" Poppy jumped to a start, Viva seemed to be right beside her; jumping to her sister's side, placing her hands on Poppy's shoulders with such interest you would think JD had just brought up party plans. "Oh I'm so not joking." JD couldn't help but laugh, crossing his arms. "Floyd used to sneak off before the start of every show and see his little crush! It was so cute." And there was the teasing tone that Floyd could never forget. He hadn't hoped they didn't bring up this topic, but now he wished he had begged on his knees to anything above that his brothers had forgotten. "Oooh~ Floyd! Who was the lucky troll?" Viva questioned, mirroring her sister's excitement yet with a slight more mature feeling. "Well-" Floyd couldn't even begin before JD took over again. "We never got the chance to see them!" "Oh yeah, and we tried hard too. Stalked Floyd anytime he went out to see if we could find any sort of glimpse on who this Troll was. But we never found them." Clay informed, leaning back against the couch as an amused glint crossed his eyes; he glanced over to Floyd, who was still hiding his head. "Can we PLEASE change the topic?!" Floyd begged, but he guessed that his humiliation was much too entertaining to his brothers (mostly JD). "Nope! Never got the chance to see them. It was like- the biggest mystery in all of BroZone history." JD made this sound more ominous than it needed to be. More mysterious than a unclosed murder case that was more boggling than answerable. His serious tone didn't help it either. "Oh my god, Viva!-" Poppy turned to her sister, who held a knowing look. "To the clue board?" "To the clue board! Don't worry we'll find this troll." Poppy exploded like a star as Viva and her rushed over to the clue board that Branch had set up. They didn't waste time before they began to excitedly chat over possibly candidates and theories. Floyd felt more embarrassed than the day his brothers had started that whole mess, and he wasn't sure how that was even possible! Branch watched the two sisters for a moment before turning over to his brothers, thoroughly confused, "Wait... why did no one tell me this?!"

@!; Floyd wasn't sure how he would break this news to his brothers, but all he knew is that he needed to get to you first. He knew you just as you knew him, and he knew his disappearance would have a cause for concern... or maybe alarm or distress. Everything that Floyd didn't want you to feel when you thought about him because he should be your safe space and you had been his. "Guys! I'll be right back." Floyd shouted to his brothers when the caterpillar bus had came to a stop in front of the Pop village; And Floyd was sure he literally flew out the door with more force than necessary before he began to run down the village. "Bring them home for dinner!" Floyd could hear JD's sly remark before he was no longer in earshot of the van. Though he was sure he could hear something about "Kids growing up too fast" and some shared lighthearted laughter. Floyd couldn't care at the moment; not when all his brain buzzed about was finding you and making sure you were okay. What if you had gotten hurt during your time of no communication. What if you began to think that Floyd no longer cared for you or that something had happened to your or- Floyd's mind raced faster than he could keep up with and it felt like he was no longer racing against time yet against his own thoughts; not thinking about the fact that he had crossed the village in record time or that his brothers watched him rush straight into the woods by that cliff he had found a friend on and then love. That cliff where he had stargazed with you and shared thoughts he hadn't shared with anyone else. That cliff where you had showed him your way of life and let him closer than any other Troll had been with you. That cliff were everything happened in a secret silence that felt just right. That cliff were time seemed to stop. That cliff where he first found your eyes and saw your face last when he left. That cliff.. That cliff. That cliff!- Floyd was jolted away from the edge of the cliff, something he didn't realize he was just about to run off due to being lost in his emotion. A firm grip on the back of his pants had yanked him away, throwing him down onto the floor as now someone was between him and that cliff. "Are you crazy?! You were about to throw yourself off!-" Floyd didn't expect his baby brother's voice to shout at him and snap him out of his flurry of thoughts. He didn't expect Branch to be the one to stand there between him and the cliff. It was meant to be you. Not that he was meaning to throw himself off a cliff to find you, he would never put that type of trauma onto anyone or even think about such as thing. But you were meant to be here, meant to greet him on this cliff, meant to... where were you? Floyd didn't answer his brother as he scrambled onto his feet, numb from the running. He didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care. He began to look around frantically, up and down the cliff, left and right. He rushed to some bushed and trees and tried looking more in depth as Branch stood there; never having seen his brother so disorientated and frazzled. "Floyd? Floyd!" Branch tried to get his brother's attention, "Floyd what are you looking for?" You. Where were you? Floyd didn't realize he didn't answer his brother; he had thought he had, but he didn't. He simply jumped off a rock and to the lower side of the cliff before he continued his search. Branch cautiously followed him, slowly lowering himself down from the rock and onto the ground. He watched Floyd look everywhere before Floyd jolted to a stop and stared in front of him. "(Y/N)!" It was a pained cry as Floyd rushed forward, pushing himself off of a tree to give himself a boost. "Floyd!" Branch yelled, following his brother in a panic. "Floyd you can't run into the forest around the village they're dangerous! Flo-" And Branch paused seeing who his brother approached. "Floyd!"

Floyd had no hesitation rushing over to an enormous beast that laid in the middle of a field, soaking in the sun. The beast had clear patches of its fur bitten off, and Branch couldn't tell whether it was self inflicted due to nerves or if it was from a fight. It perked its ears, then its head as it heard Floyd' shouting. It scanned the field and Branch felt himself rushing over to his brother. "FLOYD!" Branch's yell fell short as he saw the beast jump to its paws and rush over to his brother. Branch felt adrenaline rush through his body as he was sure he was about to watch his brother get eaten by a rapid animal. And Branch wasn't in range to catch the beast's muzzle with his hair, and Branch was sure that Floyd wouldn't attack it for whatever reason, and- wait... what? Branch kicked up dirt as he skidded to a stop, watching at the beast popped into an unusually tall Troll who grabbed Floyd in bear hug before spinning the two around. Branch watched with so much bewilderment that he questioned what JD had put in the drink he had given him. He had to be seeing things. That beast didn't just transform into a troll, right? Branch let out an airy bit of laughter as he watched the taller Troll trip on their own legs, causing the two of them to crash down and laugh loudly. Laugh like long lost lovers or crushes who had just found each other again, some sort of star-crossed lovers situation you would only find in books. Branch let out a small huff before carefully walking over to Floyd and you on the floor, laughing like maniacs. "What happened to you?!" Floyd reached up to cup your cheeks, worry rushing to his eyes as he noticed the bits of your hair that were fried and clearly chewed off. "No! No what happened to you?!" Sure, maybe you should have answered Floyd's question before asking one but you were too worried! This man disappears off the face of the planet for 2 months with no explanation then comes back like nothing ever happened?! You wouldn't stand for it, nor would you sit or lay for it either. Your hands rushed up to his, cupping over his hands which were cupping your cheeks. "I asked the question question first!" Quipped Floyd with a cheeky, beaming grin. Oh, how you've missed that grin so much. You could just squish his cheeks and kiss him at this moment. "I'll tell you what happened to me when you explain what happened to you." "Dea-" "How about you both explain what is happening?" Branch cut in, standing nearby with crossed arms and an amused smile. Floyd shot his head up, you simply turned to the side, to see that smile and oh- Floyd for a moment thought Branch was about to use this for some sort of blackmail against their brothers. "Branch!" Floyd sat up with a startle, having forgotten his brother had been here... and that he kind of saved Floyd from running off a cliff earlier. "Who are you?" Floyd heard you ask from under him and he knew he had a lot of explaining to do in that moment. But hey, if all he had to do was introduce you to his family, and hope they would accept you for your differences, then he would do that. He would do that and more to be able to be next to you, in your arms and in your reach. He would do anything to be able to keep you close. And next time he left the village, Floyd was not leaving without you.

@!; BONUS SNIPIT

"Wait, so you're telling me you got captured by some evil green-haired people who put you into a glass bottle made of diamonds and the only way you escapes is because your family made the 'perfect family harmony'?" You asked Floyd with a childlike wonder and a mature skepticism. You both were laying in Floyd's bed, inside his bod, as crickets chirped outside a sweet melody of the night. Floyd knew it sounded unbelievable but, "I'm telling you, this story is 100 percent real." Floyd couldn't help but keep in his laughter at your expressive wide eyes. Taking advantaged of your bewilderment of the situation, Floyd attacked you by snuggling closer; wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, resting his head against your chest. He didn't have to look up at you to know you were cocking your eyebrow up in a questioning way, trying to think the logistics of the story over in your head. Yet you still wrapped your arms around Floyd's back, your hair stretching out to wrap the both of you in its fuzzy and cozy warmth. Floyd let out a deep sigh, you felt it against your chest; he missed these moments, and you did too. Moments that seemed to stand still, yet not in a boring way. In a way where Floyd got to soak up every second of being with you, and you got to soak up every second with him. Where you could feel like time was racing by, yet checked and it had only been a few minutes and you had more time to cuddle and just talk and be together than you had thought. Moments like these were the best feeling in the world. "I still don't believe you." You jokingly poke Floyd in the back, causing him to yelp and arch away from your pointy nail. You watched as he looked up at you with the most playfully challenging look; an eyebrow cocked upwards and his eyes glittering in the small light of the dimmed lamp. "Well it happened! I don't know what to tell you." He sassed back, rolling his eyes in a playful manner before he laid his head back against your chest. You tightened your arms around Floyd, which caused him to smile softly. No matter what happened, what had happened. Floyd was back now and neither of you were leaving each others side again; at least not now or in the near future unless it was forced.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[gavillain]

AGATHA EPISODE SIX SPOILER DISCUSSION; HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A GOOD EPISODE!!!!

A LOT happened in this episode, and we got a LOT of answers!

I'm really glad we got Billy Kaplan/Billy Maximoff's full backstory here at the midway point, and I really enjoy the way this episode bridged the gap between WandaVision and Agatha All Along. I'm just really excited to see Billy's story getting adapted here in general too. Obviously it's a bit different from the comics, but they kept a lot of the core ideas of it in tact. And I'm super happy to see that they explicitly kept his Jewishness in tact as well given the MCU's unfortunate habit of erasing or neglecting Jewish identities. We find out here that Billy Maximoff's spirit is inhabiting the body of Billy Kaplan, who died in a car accident the day the Hex came down. We also find out that Lilia was the one who put the sigil on Billy after reading his palm and seeing his broken life line (I was surprised but I thought that reveal was very satisfying). We find out that Billy's boyfriend's name is Eddie, so he's not Teddy Altman and thus probably not Hulkling, which I personally never really thought but other people were theorizing.

Oh and RALPH BOEHNER RETURNS!!!! :D Honestly, I didn't think I would care, but my boyfriend and I went WILD when we saw him pop up. A+ callback right there :D And I like him being the one to sort of facilitate Billy going to Westview after Agatha. After how little he did in WandaVision post-reveal that he wasn't Pietro, it was nice to see him get a bit more relevance again in the overarching plot.

Agatha pulls herself out of the mud and survives, and I also really loved how Agatha wasn't mad or vengeful towards Billy. She was legitimately excited to see him and know who he was. Their relationship is one of the most interesting parts of the show, so I'm glad to see that it's not totally being burned to the ground. Obviously, Billy is fully in the right not to trust Agatha, but we're now at a juncture where the two of them are going to be more open and honest with each other, and that has me excited! We just saw Agatha last episode prove why she is still very much a villain, but we also saw that Billy has a bit of a dark side in him too. I think we're gonna see Billy be torn between good and evil as the show goes forward and deciding what type of witch he wants to be, with Agatha being the proverbial devil on his shoulder. I made the comparison a few weeks back about Agatha and Billy being Maleficent and Riku from Kingdom Hearts in another font, and that seems to be the direction we're heading, which excites me.

Theory wise, there's not a whole lot of new theories for me at least, other than the ones continuing from previous episodes, but I do have a few more scattered thoughts: *Eddie uses the black heart emoji for Billy, so does that mean HE was the black heart that Lilia wrote on the list instead of Rio? If so, it's kind of weird that HE would be a "black heart" in any way. But also this still has me thinking that Blackheart may yet be involved. Not as Rio (who we pretty much know is Death due to leaks), but maybe somewhere else? I dunno, I'm not giving up hope that he or Mephisto are involved, even if it's just as an after credits scene.

*BILLY HAVING A BLACK CAULDRON POSTER IN HIS ROOM MADE ME SO FRIGGIN' HAPPY! To see Disney acknowledging that movie always warms my heart, but to know that Billy is a fan in this universe is REALLY cool and gives me a sort of kinship with him. Love to the underloved!

*Rio is still MIA since Alice died. Is she still tending to Alice or is she doing something else?

*Lilia and Jen aren't dead, and we know as much, but they didn't escape the bog with Agatha, so I'm wondering if the next trial will see the get out or maybe see them waiting there for Agatha and Billy.

*Billy is apparently on the road to find Tommy, which makes a lot of sense. I know people are upset that he's not after Wanda, but I genuinely don't think Wanda's return to the MCU was ever going to be in another TV show. I think, if Wanda returns, it's going to be in Avengers Doomsday, much like her return in the comics during Children's Crusade. But I'm excited to see if Tommy DOES return in this show or if Billy's ambitions are going to remain unresolved at the end of the road. I'm excited to find out!

NEXT EPISODE WITH SPEED PLEASE! I have a MIGHTY need to see Billy in that Maleficent cosplay in what I assume is the next trial… yes, I am, as ever, myself XD

[dp-marvel94]

Becoming

Summary: Throwing up ghosts is just the beginning. First, a ghost that looks exactly like Danny comes through the portal. The memory sharing and body switching are weird. Now the portal inside him is growing and Danny is terrified of what happened once it become too big for his body to contain.

Word Count: 3,312

Also on AO3

Sequel to "An Unconventional Way to Get a Cat", Written in response to this ask I received.

“I just finished your cat acquisition portal au fix and I loved it! Missy my beloved. I can't help but imagine Danny instinctively going invisible and intangible out of sheer 'oh shit' at the end, which would NOT make either of them more calm. Ahdjfkf I also read the end note and I think I speak for everyone in that we would LOVE to hear your deranged ideas <3”

Thanks to @sun-spice for asking. 

This is set staring directly after the last chapter of “An unconventional way to get a Cat.” It is part story outline, part rough scenes. But between the length and the fact that I’m really freaking proud of the ending, I figured I should post it here on AO3. It’s pretty tonally different from the story I wrote for phic phight so I decided it should be it’s own thing as well. So y’all get ready. This is going to be a ride. 😅

It begins with something big, bigger than anything else Danny has felt before pushing its way through the portal. There is a big flash of light as the ghost portal opens through him. As the light dies, Danny finds himself floating and glowing. Suddenly, he is a ghost. 

His sister stands in the bathroom doorway, eyes wide with shock. Danny mirrors her expression, then after a too long pause….

“Am I dead?!”

Jazz says something, just as panicked as him. But… Danny can’t process through the screaming in his own head. His body feels… strange. Too warm and too cool. His chest is too full, despite the lightness in his limbs. And yet…. He feels better, more right than he’s felt since the Accident a week ago.

That is until Danny turns human with another flash of light. With a stumble, he lands on his feet. He stares at his ungloved hands. Completely back to normal…

“Ugh…” Something on the floor behind him groans.

 The boy’s head whips to… a ghost on the floor. It looks like a boy about his age, white haired, in a… strangely familiar jumpsuit.

“What… but that’s-” Jazz, normally so sure sounding, stutters.

At the noise, the ghost's head jerks up. It… his eyes are blown wide, confused and disoriented.

The ghost has Danny’s face. 

Both the siblings shout, fingers pointing, questions drilling. The ghost flinches, popping invisible and fleeing. The look on his face….just as freaked out as Danny and Jazz. 

For a long while, Danny and Jazz throw out ideas about what just happened. Maybe the ghost is some kind of shape shifter? The two have no idea and no way to find out. They definitely are not telling their parents. And how are they supposed to go after the ghost? 

“I can’t… Can we just… forget about this?” Danny finally says, running fingers though his hair. “I just want to finish my cereal, cuddle my cat, and go to bed.” 

Begrudgingly, Jazz agrees.

But there is no forgetting for Danny. Having a ghost that looks just like him flying around the town is weird. Danny has weird dreams, as if he is seeing Amity Park from above. Weird, out-of-nowhere feelings invade at random moments. Thoughts that echo, that feel not quite like his own but somehow unquestionably are. And… memories of green swirling clouds and purple doors. Danny feels… strange. He’s felt weird since the accident but this is something else. An invisible line connects him to… something. A feeling that something vital is missing.

Despite his desperate attempts at control, Jazz’s lessons in breathing techniques, meditation, mindfulness… Danny still throws up ghosts. More animals, even… things that appear almost human. He finds himself in weird dreams of fighting ghosts… even when he’s awake. School starts and he inevitably has to tell Sam and Tucker. The trio encounter the Lunch Lady, and… Danny’s weird ghostly double. This is his first time seeing the ghost since that night Jazz found out about his condition. Looking at the ghost boy is strange. It makes his head hurt, vision oddly doubly like he is staring in a funhouse mirror. An uneasy feeling churns through his insides. Those dreams were never really dreams.

One day Danny blinks and finds himself floating above Amity Park. 

“What, no.” The boy mutters to himself. “I’m not actually here.” He closes his eyes, trying to focus. “I’m in my bedroom, sitting on my bed. The blanket is soft. There’s a clock ticking on my wall.” 

But… he can’t feel the bed under him, can’t hear the clock. The sound of the wind remains stubborn in his ears. 

Danny’s eyes pop open. He… can’t snap himself back to reality. Danny looks down, and the nausea he feels has nothing to do with the portal in his guts. He’s actually here, floating a hundred feet above the park. 

It’s..like just before his look-alike showed up. Danny shivers at the thought. His spectral double…. Did the ghost possess him (semi-possess?) him again? That’s what he and Jazz decided must have happened back then. The ghost came through the portal and was so confused and disoriented, he immediately overshadowed Danny. There hadn’t been a fight for control, no other voice in his head. The ghost must have been too weak and confused to wrestle for control, hence getting thrown out almost immediately.

This almost felt like that. Except… No, something was wrong. He felt light, no human warmth, no pounding in his chest. Before there’d been… an odd calmest. It almost made him sick, remembering how right that moment had felt.

Shaking the feeling away, Danny wobbly flew back to his house. He phased through his window to find…himself freaking out in his room.

His own blue eyes stare at him, wide with confusion. And yet… they flicker green… something behind them is eerily familiar. 

“It’s…you.” “Danny!”

Apparently the ghost switched bodies with him. And his double, Phantom, is no help. 

“I have no idea what’s happening.” Phantom in Danny’s body (and isn’t that a crazy thought) raises his arms. “I don’t even know who I am. All I remember is floating on the other side of the portal, guarding it. Like… the first thing I remember in a pain, a green flash and I was in the Zone in front of the ghost portal!” He shrugged, looking sheepish. “I just knew it was my job to guard it. I wasn’t very good at it though.”

Obviously not with all the ghost animals coming through. 

Danny’s brow furrowed. “Why did you leave?”

Phantom shivered. “The portal… it was… calling me. Or maybe it was something on the other side. I just knew I had to come through.” 

So Phantom had touched the rift. He found himself in the human world. And… suddenly he was with Danny. For just a moment there… it felt like he didn’t exist. There was no Phantom, just… 

“Then we turned human and warm and I was just me again.”

Danny doesn’t know what to make of the story, his stomach twisting with a dozen feelings.

Eventually the two switch back. But now the memory, thought, and emotion sharing is even more intense. The two keep switching places. Danny fights the ghost in Phantom’s place. The ghost gets an… oddly familiar taste of Danny Fenton’s life. Inevitably, the two bond, forming an odd friendship through their efforts to hide their weirdness from the Fenton parents and the town as a whole. They find they have a lot in common too. Phantom loves puns as much as Danny does. The human boy’s love of the stars is as great as his ghostly friend’s. Music, books, movies, games. They squeeze so many shared interests into the quieter moments. Sometimes they butt heads because of how similar they are but… overall Danny is happy. Phantom feels like the brother he never had. Maybe the ghost is his twin that he absorbed in the womb. Maybe he’s just a random ghost that he was lucky enough to meet. Either way, it’s nice to have him in his life.

But, things are not all good. The portal is getting worse. More ghosts are coming through. More fights, worse injuries. Phantom’s powers are growing, including new, hard to control ice powers. 

And the portal feels colder too. Danny can feel it swirling. The tenderals spread, wrapping around his bones and organs. It… shines through his skin. He can see it, a ball of neon green below his ribs. It flashes brighter, blinding him every time it opens. And… each time, the spot of light is a little bigger.

One morning, Danny wakes up to a tingling feeling on his skin. Like the occasional invisibility and intangibility he experiences when he’s Phantom but… it's pervasive, spreading from his stomach to the surface. He lifts his shirt and… the portal is there. On his skin? In his skin? Above his skin? It does not make any sense but it is there, bound to him and visible. The size of his fist, it swirls below his rib cage. He brushes it with a finger and… it is like touching his own skin. At the same time, it is like brushing cold mist. His hand sinks in, not intangible but like sticking his hand in a bucket. And he shivers. He can feel it, the cold atmosphere of the Realms on his hand… and the portal swirling around his wrist. He feels his hand brushing the mist and his mist brushing the hand. He is both hand and mist.

Danny rips his hand out, as if he has been burned. Horror sinks into him. What is happening to him?

The switching keeps happening and the portal keeps growing. And Danny is scared. He hides it from his friends and sister. At first, it’s not that hard. A shirt is enough to cover the swirling gate below his ribs. But it spreads onto his shoulder, below his belly button. He switches to long shirts and hoodies. He is nervous and on edge, avoiding his friends, changing the subject whenever Jazz asks what’s wrong.

But there is no hiding from Phantom. Not when half the time Danny’s body is his. The ghost is oddly quiet about the problem. Sometimes Danny catches the ghost looking at him, brow furrowed with thought. Phantom is closing off, acting more distant. In his eyes, something like realization, more than just the dread of death, flashes. And whatever it is, the revelation scares him.

But Danny can barely notice as the dread turns to terror. His heart races, he can’t sleep, can’t eat. Every minute, he can feel the portal getting bigger. He can feel it eating at his insides, invading them, turning them to ice and mist as they evaporate. He feels it grow and tear, burrowing deeper to replace and pull apart. And it does not even hurt. It should hurt. Being unmade, being changed should hurt. A part of Danny wants it to hurt. The portal is killing him. In the end, it will destroy him. And he doesn’t want to die. Or… 

A much worse possibility screams at the back of his mind, in the way he feels the portal entrance below his shirt, can feel the small ghosts flitting through. Mutation trickles through his veins. Transformation, terrible violating change….

Down in the empty portal one night, Danny cries alone. All this struggling, all this hiding and for what? He really is going to die down here, where he should have all those months ago. The portal has spread to just above his knees, to his elbows. He can barely stand, can barely walk now. He can’t fill his fingers. But he can feel it, every inch. The portal is killing him, tearing him apart. It pulses, ready for release. And part of him wants to give in but… his friends and sister. Phantom, once simply his double, now his closest friend…. Letting the portal take him would be giving up, leaving them. But… he can’t do this, can’t keep fighting forever.

“Danny!” Suddenly Phantom is there, kneeling in front of him.

The human (Is ever human anymore, with this.. thing parasitizing his body?) blinks, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t give up.”

Danny hears the words, processes them, the same ones he’d been telling himself just second ago But… it’s too much. 

“I’m… I’m scared.” He cries. Just moments ago, he wanted to let the portal rip him apart. Dying was terrifying. But… “I can’t… I can’t keep fighting it. I…” A flash of cold. Danny feels the green claw up his neck. “It’s going to rip me apart. It’s going to kill me, really kill me this time. But…” He hiccups, the sound part cry, part laugh. “What if I don’t die? What if…” A tendril curls passed his knee, half way down his calf. “I can feel it, the portal. I can feel it like… like it’s my own skin. What if it… it destroys me but I… I’m still…”

He can’t force out the words, not with the cold tickling his throat, with the tears drowning his voice. But the thought…. What if the portal destroys his body but he still exists? What if it breaks out of his fragile human sheel and becomes him? What if he becomes it? The un-living gate between worlds, trapped in his cage of metal. Without sight or sound, just… his thoughts and the ghosts swimming through him forever.

“You won’t be trapped.” 

That… is not what Danny expected Phantom to say. He opens his eyes, tears cutting off in his shock. “What?”

The ghost shakes his head. “I figured it out. Why the accident made me, why you called me through.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We really should have figured it out months ago. The shared memories were a big hint. And the switching bodies.” He rolls his eyes. 

“I’m.. I’m dying.” Danny’s mind is screaming, confusion growing into distress. “What are-”

Phantom takes his hands. “You are the portal. There’s no denying it now. It’s part of you. It is you.”

“No.” Pure despair crashes over him. The word echoes, more thought and emotion that sound, Danny’s throat replaced by the green. 

It’s true then. A few more minutes and he’ll be nothing more than a cloud of mist, hanging in the frame. At least he’ll get to say goodbye-

“Stop that.” Phantom reprimands. “This isn’t the end. You’ll survive this.” 

Danny narrows his eyes. He appreciates the attempt at comfort but it was too late for reassuring lies. Even if he wouldn’t die, this is still the end.

The ghost points up the stairs. “You will walk up their stairs in a few minutes and go to bed. You’ll go to school on Monday and the Nasty Burger with Sam and Tuck. You’ll bug Jazz and…” Phantom is crying now too. “We’ll… we’ll do it together.”

Danny feels it, Phantom means every word. He is so sure but-

“I’m your ghost, Danny. Your ghost.” So much emphasis in the words. “I always have been. Your accident made me. You made me.” Phantom’s eyes glistening with tears. “You called me through the gate. You made me, an echo, your friend. And now…” He sniffled and a soft smile bloomed. “I’m… I’m becoming something more.”

Hands still clasps, Phantom brings one of Danny’s to his hazmat suited chest. The still-flesh fingers feel and… 

“That’s… that’s impossible.” Danny’s eyes widened awed. 

There under his hand, in Phantom’s chest… something thumps and pulses. A steady drum beat. In Phantom’s chest, his heart beats.

“Is it really?” The ghost raises one eyebrow.

“Yes! You’re a ghost. This is-” Danny cuts off. No, of course, it’s not impossible. He’s becoming a ghost portal and Phantom is being raised back to life. His ghost is becoming human.

The momentary awe crests and Danny plunges back into desperation. “Why are you telling me this?” 

His mind whirls. He imagines, Phantom as a human. Like so many times before, laying in his bed, doing his homework, going to school, hanging out with his friends. Danny can’t help but smile. The thought of his fading away and Phantom taking his life, the tastes he’d loved so much becoming real…

“No. I said… I said we’d go up those stairs together.” Desperation rings in Phantom’s voice, stronger than even Danny’s own despair.

Danny blinks. There is meaning there, significance. Phantom is begging him for something and… he does not understand. 

“When I first came through the portal, we shared a body and mind.” The ghost pleads, eyes wide. “Don’t you remember? I came through and… I wasn’t me anymore. I thought… it was like I didn’t exist but… but I realized…. That wasn’t it.”

“What are you saying?” Danny begs. The portal pulses, his arms and legs consumed. 

“We shared the same space and… I didn’t disappear. I folded back, back to where I came from in first place. I was you again.” Phantom says, the words airy with realization “I’ve always been you.” He squeezes the flesh hands, the desperate touch the only thing holding the green back.“You… you’ve felt it too, the link between us. We’re intertwined.”

The ghost is… right. Of course he is. Danny feels it in his….Phantom’s bones. The shared thoughts and memories. The body swapping. The shared interests and appearance. Dread, excitement, anticipation bubble in what once was Danny’s stomach. A thousand emotions but… paramount is hope.

Danny almost wants to laugh. He became best friends with himself. But…In Phantom’s chest, he can feel his, their heart pounding. If Phantom is wrong and he had just disappeared in that first overshadowing…

“But…. Phantom, what happens to you if that… if… if we…”

The ghost shakes his head. His knowing eyes say he knows Danny’s fear. “Danny, I came from you. From your death. Even with becoming… this…” He motions to his body. “A ghost that’s technically separate from you…. We’ve always been a step from being the same person. I think…. We’d finally fall back into step.”

They would fall into step… The strange sense of fullness, of rightness he’d felt when Phantom appeared… He’d felt different, not quite himself since the accident. Like something was missing. And now, the missing part is in front of him…

And yet… a last trickle of doubt, of fear. The portal quivers, wanting to overtake him. The tip of his nose disappears…

Fear darkens Phantom’s face. “No matter what happens to me, I won’t let you be trapped in the frame. I…” The ghost steels his face. “Whether we sync back into step, or I disappear, or we end up sharing a body permanently… Go back up those stairs with me.”

Danny stares for a long moment. He is just a pair of eyes now, two hands, and two feet. A part of him whispers, it would be easier to let the portal take him. At least he knows what will happen; he feels it in his mist, in the way his ectoplasm wants to expand, to grow to fit the frame. But this uncertainty… 

Will he lose Phantom or become him? Was Phantom even real in the first place? Does any of it matter? But the pleading, the desperation in Phantom…. His other self’s eyes. 

 “O… okay.” Danny stutters, mind made up.

The boy-who-is-a-portal pulls his ghost into a hug. His portal self pulses, straining to fill its proper shape. The last of his mortality in ghostly hands… the two fragmented minds intertwine. Strings twisting tighter and tighter together. Gaps that he hadn’t even felt filling. Threads knitted into a greater and greater pattern. Ghost and human and something altogether other fall into the weave.

It… never was a choice between Phantom and the portal, the creature that was and is Danny, and is so much more realizes. It was, it is, it will be so much more. Form straining to finally become, the being that is Danny releases.

The portal explodes out, a supernova of force, yet contained by his mind. The green mist coalesses, filling the metal machine made by its parent’s hands. The gateway becomes and the new born halfa, its guardian self, floats inside.

Slowly, the halfa floats out of the bridge. He blinks for a long moment, staring at the portal, his other body. A gloved hand over his chest, heart and core intertwined. Ghostly chill in his veins and human warmth.

He breathes out and… laughs with relief. His portal self pulses with mirth, mist curling. 

“I’m… I’m alive. That worked. Danny… Phantom… we did it.”

He is a ghost and he is alive. He is a gateway and he is a boy. He is Danny and he is Phantom. And he is whole.

Note: So yeah, yall know how much I love split Danny so this idea was born out of that love. If you’ve read my other words, you’ll probably notice some thematic similarities to Face to Face, hence why I never wrote this despite coming up with this idea first. Seriously, I was daydreaming about this fic while I was in grad school and supposed to be paying attention in the lecture I was TAing. 😅

The portal consuming Danny’s physical body was an interesting idea which came from free story I read on Kindle years ago. It was either a one off short story or in an anthology but I had not luck finding it. It was about a man who got a case of cancerous pocket dimension. Basically, this pocket of space appeared on his stomach and grew like a cancer, eventually destroying him. It was sad, about his wrestling with his impending death and leaving his daughter behind. About how his new part of space was being created with his life and yet he would not live to see it. He was not becoming the space, no part of his consciousness would stay. And yet, the planet that was visible through the spot, a new planet in a whole new universe, which he told his daughter about and showed her to her amazement, was named after her. A part of him did survive. 

I swear the story was a lot more poignant that my explanation and I really wish I could find it but I’m having no luck. 😭

Anyway, thanks for pushing me into writing this. Feel free to tell me what you think!

[thunder-shadow]

ive got many!!! 1, 4, 5, 8, 17, 21, 27, 28, 37?!

Thank uuu <333333

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Oh boy, yeah I daydream a lot haha - usually I get an idea and write down the bare info for it (like the ship and maybe one or two scene ideas) and then I just let it marinate for a bit, usually listening to music or reading! Then ideas usually pop in from there XD I'm a daydreamer all the way

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Usually it's just whichever one I feel needs attention at the moment? Or whatever my brain latches onto haha

Like yesterday I meant to edit the GHE chapter so it could be posted, but instead I wrote the Earthcury one-shot turned multi-chap (which I wanna finish b4 I post it)

It's very wishy-washy is what I'm saying LOL

5. How many wips do you have?  What fandoms/pairings are they for?

All of WIPs are for SolarBalls haha I can only write for one fandom at a time XD

Okay, so obviously I have the GHE fic, the Jupixturnus fic, the Vercury fic, and now the Earthcury fic (those are all multi-chaps); then I have my oneshots, of which I plan to write Vars, Vearth, another UraEarth, a fluffy Jupiturnus one, a Poly Rocky planets one, and I still have a Sol & Nemesis one with snippets, as well as the post-paranoia Luna fic that still needs its chapter two LOL (and then I have a titanearth smut + jupixturnus smut that i'm thinking abt but shhhhhh)

That doesn't even count the random ideas I've just jotted down in my notes app LOL

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

Oh gee, lemme find one I feel like posting!! I don't have any spoilers to be honest, bc i haven't written since i posted the ghe one or i would've used that 😭 so just have a snippet from my latest wip

I actually posted this the other day but deleted it like immediately LOL but here! from my earthcury college AU

‘Okay,’ Earth thought, narrowing his eyes. ‘First midterm is in 7 days. One week. You’ve got this,’ and he pumped his fist, ignoring the weird looks a couple of people threw at him. ‘Just need to study. Actually study for once.’ Then he looked down at the multitude of papers spread out in front of him, his laptop propped open to a chemistry video from a Youtuber he’d found on line, and groaned, letting his face fall onto the table. Across from him, Mars let out a laugh, flipping another page in his book. “Earth, I don’t know what your definition of studying is, but putting your head on the table and giving up is not studying as far I’m aware.” Earth looked up at him through his lashes, sending him as much of an annoyed look as he could muster before groaning again. “Organic Chemistry is going to kill me! Why did I decide to become a biology major?” “I don’t know. Why did I decide to become an Astronomy major?” “Because you’re weirdly obsessed with aliens?” “Wha-” Mars spluttered, putting his book down and looking at Earth. “No!” “Because you weirdly like math?” “No, Earth, because I enjoy astronomy! I like learning about it!” Mars rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his water bottle after a second. “And I know you’re the same way about biology because we’ve been roommates since freshman year!” “Ughh,” Earth whined in response. “Just let me melt into a puddle and evaporate away so I don’t have to take these midterms.” “You could just study for them, you know.” “That was my plan! But that involves studying…” “Oh, wow,” Mars said, throwing him a stare that just dripped with disdain. “Studying involves studying, I really didn’t know that, Earth.” “Fine!” Earth stood up, shoving his stuff haphazardly into his backpack. “I’ll go to the library! And this time, I’m going to actually study!”

17. Do you have a writing routine?

Nope! I literally just sit down and start writing oop

21. Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

I prefer writing one-shots just bc it feels simpler, like a one-and-done LOL but multi-chaps can be fun too!!

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Being able to write a lot 😓 and body language, I feel quite confident in body language LOL

Also my grammar and language use, despite my copious use of em-dashes, semicolons, and ellipses I otherwise really just innately understand most grammar bc of how much I read when I was younger ‼️

28. What area of writing do you want to improve in?

DIALOGUE 😭😭😭

37. What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

The GHE fic hands down, it just feels so complicated 😭😭 I'm slowly chugging a lot, we're nearing the last few chapters :D

[homiesondaweb]

I WROTE SOME HOBIE BACKSTORY FLUFF

Been writing too much angst lately🥲

anyway this is based of my previous head cannon on Hobie's siblings. Quick recap (might make a OC post about em) Hudson and Hendricks(yea name change) are the eldest twins about 12 years older than Hobie and are 21. Henry is in the middle he is 9 years older than Hobie, he is 18. Harley is only 5 years older and she is 14 going on 15 (she helps run the community garden). Hobie is 9!

I am Black but also an American from the midwest. So if I fuck up some of the UK vernacular or whatnot y'all can correct me in the replies or reblogs. If you see this fic floating on AO3 that is also me!

______________________

1966 Chevy C10 aka the ugliest truck known to fucking man aka Harley bedroom away from home. Given to her by her old dirt and hay supplier before he moved to Wales, the dark green vehicle that lives parked in their ground floor garage was her escape from a house full of her lanky and, damn-right charlie brothers. She has the bed of the truck softened with a scrap fabric mattress and tens of thrifted comforters and pillows. Her portable record player crones with a Betty Davis record riding the groove with a whining guitar. Harley uses a chunk of mirror propped against her stage trunk to watch herself as she sections her hair into lazy cornrows for the night.

The sky slowly crumbles into a sunset, unfurling into a cool moon, shifting the world to a soft grayscale and sepia. Streetlights outside the garage flicker on and the human officers switch their patrol lights to a slow strobing blue and yellow. Harley gives a big yawn that pops her jaw and hums along to the guitar's riffs. The sound rests really low in her throat, it nearly drowns out the sound of steel door creaking and small steps that padding in. The 14 year old pauses her humming and stretches over to see the interruption of her night routine.

It's shaped lika palm tree, outlined in muted pink with their bare feet slapping around on the cement. Sleepy gray eyes met hers before they lighten to hazel for a moment, then back to sleep gray.

"Comin' ta bed?" Hobie whispers, voice all low and raspy. Harley helps the wire of a little boy clamor over the raised gate, he settles his head on her shoulder after. She chuckles and smears some leftover mango butter on his nose before her hands are back in her head.

"Inna bit. Thought I might sleep down 'ere though. Let my Baney Bart lil brother have the whole bed. You've got ta start wearin' yer socks to bed, ice foot." Harley teases and Hobie whines, then snuggles against her side. 

Harley thought that now with Henry moving in with Rembrandt to the Canal flats would have given her the incentive to claim his room for her own and finally stop sharing both room and mattress with her baby brother. It wasn't easy though, ever since she came on the scene when the twins 7 and Henry was 5 the Brown siblings instinctively cuddled. Like cubs or kittens of some kind. 

Hudson and Hendricks would sleep on their stomach, shoulders piled on top of each other or an arm around the other's back. Henry uses somebody's calf as a pillow and his foot always ends up in Hudson's face. Harley found her spot cuddled over Henry's stomach and when baby Hobie joined the mix she always woke to her shoulder being smothered in his drool and soft snores. They were like cats in that way, if one sibling saw the other napping, they were gonna share that sleep.

It has peter off some, Henry started sleeping over in the art alley with his mandem. Hendricks working overnight security with Pa. Hudson staying with Imani more days out the week(they all wait for the couple to announce the true reason why she was getting rounder). Harley sleeps in the truck when her band mates  sneaks over after the city curfew because their fam is off it or someone is sick with radio or the flu.

But even with growing apart. A cuddle wassa cuddle and baby Hobie was gonna get his full of them. Of course Harley was still gonna share a bed with her little Barty when requested. Hobie starts to fade down to their true colors as sleep wraps him up, 

"Oi! No sleep yet lil boy. Gotta put the 'fro up." She whispers tugging at the puff on the top of his head. Hobie grumbles, going cut yellow with crankiness. Harley counters it with a pink kiss to the top of his head and lets the stocking-band out that release his coils. Hobie blinks blearly in his slumped sit as Harley sloppily parts then flat twists them down into four rows. He gives a little sigh at the cool feeling of mango butter to his scalp but grumbles when she ties a scarf over them. Harley chuckles as she releases his ears from under it and scoots the front back. 

They both know that damn scarf will be half way across the room and on the floor with her bonnet by morning. He cuddles into the front of her, stuck lika kola instead of a boy, smushing his face to her shoulder. Harley rubs his back and hums out the Buddy Miles intro that is stuck in her head as she feels around for her phone. Hobie blinks again as he watches her raise the antenna on top of it then pop in the code for someone. It rings loudly and they both wince before she lowers the volume and tilts the antenna to the right. 

"Headin' ova?" She asks and a voice hums a soft no. Hobie sighs, that was Donovan.

"Dottie and Kirt's gots lead or radio. Feelin' weak me-self, keepa eye on ya water, yeah? Think OsCo is doin' flushes again." He warns softly.

Harley tenses at that. She sits back some and uses her free hand to inspect Hobie's face. She blinks hard and they both revert to true colors. All warm brown skin, black hair and steely eyes. She gives a sigh of relief at seeing that the whites of his eyes as fine, not any spots of yellow. No dryness to his pallor, just sleepy.

"Where you in the fountains today?" She asks and Hobie shakes his head.

"Wit Pa tuday." He mumbles to her, she lets him relax back and resumes petting his back.

"Thanks for the heads up Vonnie. I'll come by wit some bone soup and a filter from Hud in the mornin'. 

"You're a dove Harles. Oíche mhaith a chroí." 

Hobie gives a fakes gag as Harley blares pink then clovers sketches, Gaelic love poems and the expert of Romeo and Juliet having it off etch over her skin in cursive for a moment before she simmers back to sepia.

"Bon lannwit, Mon kè." She says back and hangs up. Harley stashes her phone back under the mattress before turning off her record player. With a practiced ease she carefully slides Betty Davis back into the paper sleeve, then lays the mirror chunk down on a quilt.

"Ann kouche, pinèz." Harley yawns and clamors out the truck bed with Hobie still clinging to her. They make their way up to the flat and to their room. Hobie is nothing but soft breath so it startles Harley when he speaks.

"You gonna live wit Donovan one day? Like Henry and Huddie?" Hobie asks. Harley kisses his cheek and lays them down in bed. She lights a lavender incense cone, then pops it in the holder.

"Maybe one day."

"Gonna marry 'em?"

"Can't get married. He's too Irish. Laws will bang us."

"You don't care." Hobie giggles and Harley smiles real big at that.

"Who said me and Van ain't gonna bang the laws back bruv? Don't worry bout it Barty Bug." She tells him when she lays down fully and loops an arm around his shoulders, Hobie puts his head over her heart.

"You gonna runaway? You two go off?"

Harley hums.

"Where imma go, bug?" 

"... Cuba or Panama, like uncle."

"Too much sun for Donovan. He'd cook."

"Uhm… Canada. Like Erika's family?"

"Too cold. I'd freeze to death."

Hobie pouts at this point, turning into her elbow so he doesn't have to see the sleeply mirth in his older sister's eyes. Her black nails gently grasps his jaw and turns his face back to her. The both flare into blue and black ink and mapwork.

"What's with the questions. You think imma leave, love?"

Hobie nods in embarrassment but softens as Harley kisses his forehead.

"Not without you buggy. Same things goes for Hudson, Hendricks, and Henry. Same thing for Ma and Pa. No way I'm leavin' you even if the Queen, her corgis and the PM demanded it. Even if Von proposed right here. Which is stupid I'm 14, he's 15 and we've had lead poisoning on and off since we was little. So don't worry about Cuba or Canada, hell even Wales. I'm your big sister, we are Browns and some right punks. Labels are nothing but when you put in the care and obligations that comes with the title. Well, you're pretty fulfilled by em. And that means we stick together always. And care for each other always. So don't you worry your head about my crush. Don't worry about seeing my back out the door." 

Hobie just snuggles her closer at that. Harley chuckles and cuddles back. 

If there's one thing Hobie believes in, without a question,  it is his sister.

-----

Oíche mhaith a chroí = Irish Gaelic - Goodnight, my dear

Bon lannwit, Mon kè = Haitian Creole - Goodnight, my heart

Ann kouche, pinèz = Haitian Creole - Let's go lie down, Bug.

[becauseimanicequeen]

My Two Cents on White Being Non Pt. 2

I’ve previously written a post about my thoughts on White being Non and I have some additional thoughts to add to that (mainly because I’ve been thinking about Tee’s interaction with Non and White respectively throughout my day and I can’t seem to stop…).

In that post, I wrote that White’s hallucination of the boils/rash on his skin could indicate his fear of something being off-putting about his appearance and how that could be linked back to Non being called “greasy”.

The first time we see Non, walking into a classroom three years earlier, Top (being his usually charming assholish self…) exclaims that there’s no shampoo there and that Non should go home and shower instead (or something like that).

While I was thinking about this earlier today (as I was creating drips on a current abstract wip of mine), Tee and White’s shower scene in the first episode just popped into my head.

(Yes, this is how my mind works when I’m in right-brain-land.)

I feel like there’s something more to their shower scene than just a sensual rendezvous in the steam (yes, their dynamic is definitely more sensual than, for example, Phee and Jin’s, but I’ll get back to this in a sec). And I believe it has something to do with White and his insecurities.

(Btw, considering Tee’s reaction to protect White when they all watch the footage from the security camera is another indication that White is feeling vulnerable in a situation like that, and Tee knows it.)

Considering that Por suggests that Non should take a shower because he’s “greasy”, and the fact that Non’s been called “greasy” by almost everyone in that group (including Tee), I don’t think it’s very far-fetched that White (Non) don’t want to have sex with Tee with the risk of being dirty (greasy) or off-putting hanging over him. And so, they have their rendezvous in a shower.

But I also feel like there’s another aspect of this since (as I’ve read many point out) the boils/rash White sees in his hallucination show up on the area of his neck and shoulder that Tee kisses in that scene in the 1st episode. This could indicate that sex, or even touching and kissing, makes him feel dirty.

And, since I’m writing this from the perspective that White is Non, there’s a perfect explanation for this…

The video of him and Keng.

That video being filmed and uploaded onto the internet was the thing that destroyed everything for Non. It was a public humiliation. He was in a compromising and vulnerable position for the world to see and criticize. Anyone could’ve started associating sex with being dirty in a situation like that (especially after reading people’s comments on the video).

There’s also the fact that he was groomed and coerced into having sex with Keng, which could’ve also made Non feel dirty. But having it on display for the world to see, that’s on a whole other level.

In other words, White’s (Non’s) hallucination of the boils/rash makes sense based on this.

But, let’s get to another point by going back to Tee and White's shower scene.

This scene is really beautiful and you can sense the vulnerability (especially since White is often shown having his arms and hands close to his own chest, which can be an indication of wanting to protect oneself). This scene is also very much in contrast to Phee and Jin’s scene in the same episode. Phee and Jin’s dynamic is more sexual while Tee and White’s dynamic is more sensual.

What’s interesting about the topic of sensuality, though, is that there’s another relationship that has a sensual dynamic. The relationship between Phee and Non. The short montage (in episode 7) showing the start of their relationship and their interactions throughout that episode definitely show a sensual dynamic between the two.

(Sure, Non doesn’t show any sign of feeling insecure or vulnerable in Phee’s company, but Phee doesn’t know Non as “greasy” like Tee does, so this could explain that difference. But if we’re just looking at the sensual vibe, it’s definitely there in both relationships.)

And what’s the common denominator: Non.

(Also, let’s not forget that little moment of Jin being absolutely captivated by Non when they’re editing the movie. There’s definitely something about Non that’s very captivating to all these bitches, which I’m planning on further developing in another post. But, I digress…)

If what I’ve already written isn’t enough, there’s also the fact that both are intelligent.

Non was the one who answered Keng (with a correct answer) when Keng asked them to solve the equation he’d written on the board. Non also had all the correct answers on the test he got back from Keng.

And what does White offer Tee in the backstory they showed us in the 11th episode? He offers to tutor Tee because White’s a smart little bee. He might play two years younger, but his intellect is not (not that it’s a feat being smarter than Tee, but I digress…).

Not to forget that we have, time and time again, seen White find the clues and information at the house. He’s, at the very least, as smart as Non. And, no wonder (since he is Non).

Are all these similarities between Non and White a mere coincidence? It’s possible.

Am I reading too much into this? Most likely.

Am I delulu? Yes. But I choose to be. At least when it comes to certain things (like DFF theories).

[oh-surprise-its-me]

I’m absolutely living for bitey ice and Jake just inheriting different traits from his dad. This has me thinking about what would’ve happened if during the classroom confrontation in TGM if Jake had snapped his teeth at Bradley (idk why he would, haven’t gotten that far) and Mav saw it instantly reminding him of a different arrogant Blonde pilot he flew with many years ago. That Vietnam flashbacks meme but it’s TGM Mav flashing back to the locker room teeth snapping incident of ‘86.

Then later Jake fidgeting with the same plane Ron fidgeted with in that scene and Mav walking by seeing him doing that and wondering why that is so familiar to him

Jake taking a comb out one day and preening his hair in the mirror muttering to himself that he needs to look perfect cause it has to be absolutely perfect in case some chicken might happen to walk by and Mav just thinking “wow that man is vain, sorta like how Hollywood used to be”

Jake showing up to Dagger functions with his cowboy hat on, southern twang flirting hard with rooster and Mav just wonders where that boy got his fashion sense from

And then finally hearing the famous “I’m too good to be true” line and Mav is just absolutely bothered cause he can’t seem to remember where he knows that from (viper from that one ask thing you wrote)

Then the one day that the daggers and the class of ‘86 have that bbq at Ice’s house after the mission and Mav just realizes why Hangman is the way he is. It’s because he’s basically a perfect cocktail in a blonde aviators body of the different traits of the people he knows.

I might just absolutely live for Mav meeting jakes parents (and uncles and grandpa) again after all the years post mission. And the dawning horror of who made Jake in to the way he is

I am such a sucker for this Chris Seresin x Ron x Tom AU with adult Jake

I’m so glad you love them oh my god. I literally can’t stop talking about them.

-

Jake is such a combo of the men he grew up around and that never ends. He has Chris’s tendency of stealing clothing. Doesn’t matter who. He’s taking it.

When Mav saw him in a 86 sweatshirt he froze for a second and then shook his head. Just a coincidence. Damn if Jake doesn’t look like Ice.

-

Mav walks into Tom’s backyard only to see Hangman and a few of the 86 crew already there. “Wolf?! Holly?” He’s caught in a hug and then set back on the ground. A voice piped up from behind the two. “Hey old man.”

He sighs. “Seresin. Being good?”

Jake snaps his gum and grins. “Never around these guys.” Wolf tosses an arm around Jake’s shoulders and steers him to the grill where Mav swears Slider is standing. Tom comes up to Mav and gives him a hug. It’s been so long since they’ve seen each other in a non professional setting.

“Hey Mav. I’d like you to meet my husbands.”

Mav blinks. Okay look. He always knew Ice wasn’t straight. No man with that hair was. No man that looked at Slider like that was. But husband is a bit of a surprise. Certainly no open invites. “Hey Chris come here a second?”

A blond man pops his head up from here he was sitting on the ground with a dog. He was fixing what looks to be a doggy sized wheelchair. Cute.

“Yeah Baby?”

Mav blinks again. Does Jake have a much older brother??

Holy shit. “Holy shit. He’s your kid??” Tom and the man he is assuming Chris smile at him. “Sure is! Ron’s too!”

Mav stares at them. Jake passes by with a beer and hands it to Mav, “drink old man. You’ll need this today.” Ron slips away from the grill and comes up next to the three of them. “Mav! Holy shit you’ve been killing it with the assignments over the years.”

Jake is a clone of the three of them. Oh lord. No wonder he’s evil sometimes. “This is your fault. He’s like this because of you oh n o.” Wolf spins Holly around in the background, “oh he’s all of you. Oh no I thought Bradley was bad.”

A voice comes from behind him. “What Maverick? Gonna leave me out of that count?” Mav can only slowly turn when he hears that voice. “Oh fuck me. You too??”

Viper grins at him from where he’s standing while hugging Jake. “Sure thing Pete. This is my grand baby right here.”

Mav thinks maybe he should’ve dragged Goose along with him early. He can’t handle all of this information. It makes too much sense.

“Surprised old man?” Mav looks at Jake who looks slightly nervous for the first time. “Surprised but not disappointed. Nice one Jake. How’d you hide it.”

Jake shrugs. “DADT made taking Dad’s last name the smart choice. Never changed it even when they all got married. Or whatever other hippy shit that counted as.”

Chris grabs Jake and pulls him in between the three of them. Viper comes to stand next to Mav. “I’ll show you some baby photos later. It’ll make more sense.”

Mav nods. Holly is wearing Wolf’s cowboy hat. He swears that’s Jake’s exact hat.

He’s got a lot of questions but knows he’ll get a hell of an answer for them all.

[winterabrams]

writing 02: helloo! here is a short scene/fanfic that i wrote about Bucky. even though it isn't in the format i usually write, i thought i would post it, anyway! i'm trying to get comfortable with posting my writing here. keep in mind: my fmc default name is jane. it's not based on anyone, i just enjoy using the name.

there are no trigger warnings, other than men being idiots!

side note: i haven't exactly proofread this scene, since i just wanted to get it done and publish it here! in the future, i will obviously go over it and read/proofread to make it better. happy reading + please don't steal my work.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You and Bucky have been working together for months. You’d just barely gotten used to his whiskey gaze and silent agreements when you were assigned together.

You’d been running from your ex, who’d been chasing you around the building for the last few minutes.

Bucky’s hand gripped your arm, steadying you as you bumped into his broad chest. He didn’t say anything, as usual, but an idea suddenly popped into your head.

You whispered a raspy, “Please for the love of God, play along,” before pressing your mouth to his.

He was initially shocked—obviously—but after a few seconds, and much to your astonishment, he leaned into it. The fingers of his left hand tangled in your hair, while those on his right melded into your hip, tugging you closer.

You fully expected him to push you away, or worse, speed in the opposite direction before you had the chance to kiss him. Which is why you’re filled with a sense of shock that not only is he not pushing you away, but he’s kissing you back.

You’re aware of the extra presence in the room, but it doesn’t register who it could possibly be. Not until you hear the clearing of a throat and pull away from Bucky’s warmth. You stand in front of him, looking at the person who had just entered the room. It was your ex, whom you had forgotten was chasing you in the first place. After all, how were you supposed to remember that when Bucky Barnes, the office grump, had practically melted when you kissed him?

“Javier,” you speak, your voice a pathetic form of shakiness. “I didn’t notice…” You stop midsentence. Were you supposed to say that you didn’t notice him? After you had run from him for the past few minutes? “Um, I don’t think you’ve met my boyfriend.”

His eyes widened briefly, but you went on, regardless.

“Javier, this is Bucky. Bucky, Javier.”

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Bucky’s arm encircle your waist, pulling you directly against his chest.

“You’re joking,” Javier scoffs. “You’re dating him? Seriously? This is a joke, right?”

“I’m not joking.”

“So, what, you expect me to believe that you left me for this convicted murderer?”

You can feel Bucky tensing up behind you. The words that tumble out of your mouth as rushed.

“That’s not true!”

“Come on, babe. You’ve seen the news stories. He’s a killer.”

You cringed at him calling you babe. The two of you have been broken up for months, but suddenly the girl that he cheated on you with decides she doesn’t want to be in that relationship anymore and he comes running back to you? No, he chases you around your place of work, without a single doubt that you don’t want him back.

“He was brainwashed by HYDRA. None of what he did was his doing.”

Bucky’s thumb circles around your hip and you nearly fall back against him. Who needs working legs, anyway?

“You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Javier interrupts. “Oh, you do. You actually believe that.” His head tilts mockingly. “He’s a serial killer and you’re making excuses for him. That’s pathetic.”

“What’s pathetic,” Bucky pipes up, “is the fact you had to chase a woman down to be with you.”

“I didn’t chase her down,” Javier retorts, but his voice sounds shakier than when he was speaking to you. “Jane and I are meant to be together. We just hit a little bump in the road of our relationship.”

“We didn’t hit a bump! You cheated on me!”

“Details, details,” he dismissed.

“Nevermind the fact that you sound like a psychopath, Jane is taken. She’s dating someone. Me. I suggest you take several steps back, find your way out of the building, and never contact her again.”

“I don’t have to listen to you,” Javier scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Bucky steps in front of you, making sure that you’re staying behind him before advancing on your former boyfriend. Said ex-boyfriend steps back immediately, cowering in fear of the man in front of him.

“You’re right. You don’t. But you’ve seen what I can do. You’re a smart man, aren’t you, Javier? Get out of this building and never bother Jane again.”

“This is a-absurd! She can’t possibly be dating you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a freak!”

You step in front of Bucky, protectively. “He’s not a freak. He’s better than you in every way.”

Javier scoffs in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“Goodbye, Javi.”

Your ex looks like he wants to fire something back, but then he notices the look in Bucky’s eyes. If looks could kill, Javier Perez would be six feet in the ground.

He stumbles out of the room, towards the stairwell and exits the building.

“Thank you,” you breathed, stepping back and looking up at the man that has saved you hours upon hours of hounding from your ex.

Bucky nodded in response, brushing over his suit, getting rid of all the remaining crinkles in the fabric.

“Um, well, I should get back to work.”

Bucky grunted as a response, watching you as you walked back to your cubicle and finished your work for the day.

[awaywith-thefaeries]

IT’S HIS LOSS | b.bradshaw

pairing: bradley "rooster” bradshaw x roommate!reader

summary: after finding out your ex-boyfriend is now engaged, your day isn’t looking too great and you don't think it’s going to get much better, but your roommate Bradley has some other ideas

warnings: pure tooth-rotting fluff, reader being oblivious, rooster being whipped for his roommate

a/n: this is based on a couple tiktoks I saw recently, which wouldn't leave my brain so i wrote this

word count: 1.15k

masterlist

The soft scenes of your favorite tv show and the faint sounds of laughter coming through the open window are the only noises permeating the calm of your living room as you sit relaxing after your long day of grading tests and helping a few of your students with their projects. You had collapsed onto the couch the moment you got home, having just enough energy to kick your shoes off by the front door, but not enough to put them in their proper place, which you know will irk you later. But right now you can’t seem to find it in you to care, curling in between the pillows your roommate Bradley had insisted on buying for you for your birthday last month.

Breathing out a deep sigh, you wriggle your shoulders further into the cushions and reach for your phone, opening your social media apps for the first time since you woke up earlier. You scroll past the first few posts quickly, nothing of note catching your interest.

Just as you're getting ready to click off, planning on maybe taking a nap or something before Bradley gets back to the house and you two inevitably end up going out to the Hard Deck with your friends, your eyes catch on a familiar username, and you pause, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment, unsure whether or not to click.

Eventually, your curiosity gets the better of you and you click onto your ex-boyfriend's profile. You can't even count the number of times you had clicked on Eric's profile in the month since he had left you broken-hearted by running off into the arms of another woman, so you see the instant you click that he's finally posted a new picture. He hadn't posted since the breakup, and once again, your curiosity causes you to open the new post.

The picture shows Eric with his arms around a woman, smiling as she laughs and holds her left hand out to the camera, a sparkling ring resting on her finger.

she said yes! the caption reads, with a little ring and heart emoji, taunting you as you stare in shock at the picture.

A month.

One month, and he's already engaged to another woman.

God, you feel so stupid! You don't fall in love with someone enough to put a ring on it in one month. All the little things, things that should have been signs of infidelity in those last few months of your relationship with Eric start to pop into your thoughts, making you feel like the biggest idiot in the world. How could you have missed them?

Your heart aching, and thoughts of self-doubt swirling through your brain, you click off the app, turn your phone off and hurl it to the other couch, watching it flop facedown onto the cushions.

Grumbling to yourself about stupidity, you heave yourself off of the couch and head into the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass and a bottle of chardonnay, as well as a large blanket straight out of the dryer, still warm as you settle in for an evening of moping.

✯✯✯✯

Bagman: Hey, y'all coming to Hard Deck 2nite?

Bradley: Sure, give us like an hour, i'll get y/n on board and we'll head over

Bagman: cool, c u then

Grinning slightly at Jake's complete laziness with typing, Bradley pulls his car into the last empty space on the street, just a couple of houses down from your shared house. Grabbing the bag of takeout from your favorite Italian place in town from the passenger seat, he swings himself out of the truck and makes his way down the sidewalk, thinking up ways to get you to come with him for the evening.

Kicking his boots off on the porch, per your request a few months earlier after the 5th patch of dirt found it’s way into the foyer, Bradley scoops them up in his free hand, twisting the door handle and pushing into the foyer.

The first indication that something is off is the pair of bright white sneakers strewn in the middle of the entry hallway. In the 2 years you and Bradley had been roommates, he had only ever seen shoes off of the rack on two occasions.

Shit!

The second indication of something being wrong comes blaring from the living room, as Bradley drops his boots into their designated tray, and hangs his bag on its hook. He can just make out your voice singing along over the Taylor Swift song blaring through the houses speakers.

So I’ll watch your life in pictures, like I used to watch you sleep…

Tentatively, Bradley eases his way down the hall, careful not to startle you with any loud noises, and moves into the doorway just in time to see you raising your very full wine glass to your lips, taking a full gulp, as you stand on the sofa in the darkened living room.

You look up when Bradley shifts, and send him the most pathetic smile you can dredge up in the moment, unknowingly breaking your best friend/roommates heart at your expression.

“Alright, what have I walked into here?” Bradley jokes, wanting to wipe the sorrowful expression from your eyes as quick as possible. You start to giggle, spurring him on.

“I feel like, the music’s on, the wine’s out, we’ve got mood lighting, and I’ve got a bowl of carbonara with our names on it. Okay, we’re having sex on the sofa.”

You burst out laughing, thumping yourself back down into the cushions as Last Kiss continues playing, and Bradley smiles, a little tightly, glad he’s managed to get you laughing, even though your blatant laughter at the implication of sex with him stings a little more than it should.

After you’ve laughed for a good 45 seconds, you calm down enough to pause and take in Bradley, who’s still standing in the doorway.

“Brad? Are you ok?” You ask, watching his tight smile drop slightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He says, perking up a little to quickly to be true but you don’t want to push him.

“You stay there, and I’ll go grab some utensils for this bad boy,” he says, patting the bag and turning to head into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “and then you can tell me why we’re having a Ms Swift day, today!”

A muffled “okay” sounds from the mound of pillows and blankets on the sofa you’re currently lying under, and Bradley chuckles to himself as he pulls forks and spoons from a drawer, grabbing a beer from the fridge before shooting Hangman a text to let him know that you both won’t be going out and heading back into the living room.

✯✯✯✯

One and a half runs of Tangled later, the empty takeout boxes lay scattered on the coffee table and Bradley has joined you in the cocoon of pillows and blankets, polishing off his second can of beer as you lay on the couch together. You had explained everything to him over dinner, and then the two of you had gotten comfortable to watch some television.

You’re fiddling with a strand on the edge of one of your blankets when Bradley speaks.

“You know it’s his loss right?”

You glance over at him, eyes sweeping his face as he gazes right back at you, looking the tiniest bit shell shocked that he had spoken.

“What?”

“It’s his loss, that he’s not with you anymore. If I had you, I wouldn’t lose you.”

The old butterflies you had worked so hard to tame take flight in your stomach once again at the look Bradley is giving you, the tenderness in his eyes igniting a yearning that you thought you had gotten under control.

“Oh come on, I’m not that special.” You try to brush off, truly believing the words, the scars of Eric’s betrayal still stinging you.

Bradley doesn’t look pleased with the way you casually call yourself un-special. He sits up abruptly, reaching under the blankets til he finds your legs, and uses them to swing you around to that you’re facing him. His warm roughened hands cup your bare knees, and you barely manage to contain the shiver that runs over your skin at the contact.

“You’re not that special?” He asks, voice incredulous, making sure your holding eye contact with him.

“First of all, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” Your heart gives a dangerous thump at that comment, certain that your blushing and grateful that the only light in the room is coming from a few candles and the television screen.

“Second of all, you can make me laugh no matter what situation I’m in.” Bradley’s thumb starts rubbing gently over the space where your upper leg meets your lower leg, and your brain short circuits for a moment. A gentle squeeze to the other knee has you snapping back to attention, seeing Bradley smirking gently at you, still so tender it’s making your heart sing.

“And third of all, do you know how happy it makes me to know that you are the last person I get to see every single night before I go to bed, and the first person I see when I wake up in the morning? If I lost that I… I don’t think I’d survive….”

When Bradley finishes his mini rant, eyes still locked on yours and thumbs tracing little patterns on your skin, you can’t help but stare at him for a few moments, trying to grapple with the overwhelming sense of love for your best friend consuming you at this moment.

When you had first moved in with Bradley, you had connected super fast, forming an almost instant friendship. But over the first year, your platonic love for him had grown and transformed into something much deeper. Terrified of ruining your friendship, you had kept your feelings to yourself, and when Eric had come along, you had seen it as the perfect time to try and get your crush on your roommate under control.

You realize now that all you had managed to do was to pretend like the butterflies weren’t there whenever he walked into the room, or called you ‘pookie’ playfully ever since you’d watched Rent together. A quick rush of air leaves your lips and your head shakes slightly to the side as you take him in on the couch in front of you.

“What?” Bradley asks, fearing that he went to far and scared you off, “what is it?”

“Would it …” you can’t quite seem to dig up the courage to say what’s on your mind, letting your eyes drop from his down to land on his lips, “would it be really bad if I told you I wanted you to kiss me right now.”

The question leaves you in a whispered rush, and you still can’t bring your gaze up to meet his, fingers twisting into the blanket on your lap anxiously.

“Only if I didn’t want to kiss you back.”

Bradley’s confession is whispered, so low you’re not even sure if he actually said it.

“Do you?” You breathe, eyes trained downwards, muscles taught, nervous.

You’ve closed your eyes, so you don’t see Bradley’s hand come up until his thumb and forefinger are cupping your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

“I’d rather just show you,” he breathes, and then he’s leaning towards you and your eyes are falling shut once more.

When his lips brush over yours, soft at first and then with a little more urgency, something inside you feels like it clicks into place. You sigh into the kiss and open your mouth, allowing Bradley access. He responds and threads his hand through the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to deepen the embrace.

The two of you kiss and kiss, until you both run out of air and have to resurface for a moment. Bradley grins, and rests his forehead against yours, wrapping his arms around your lower back. You’ve ended up in his lap, and you snuggle deeper into his hold as his fingers slide through your hair.

“This is nice,” you whisper into his neck, all the heartache from earlier seeming to vanish for the night.

Bradley chuckles lightly and you feel his head lean to rest on the top of yours as he shuffles the two of you deeper into the pillow pile.

“Yeah, baby, this is nice.”

The last thing you feel as your body loses its battle against sleep, is the soft brush of Bradleys lips on your forehead and his fingers carding through you hair as sleep takes over.

[psychangels]

happy wip wednesday!

for anyone who saw my post about chai having a rival that hates music (and the follow-up reblog i did discussing the half-baked oc i actually came up with based around that idea), i kept Thinking about it and cooked up half a skeleton of a story. and then i couldn't Stop thinking about it, so i wrote out a bit of a scene that popped into my head.

this will probably be in the prologue? i don't know. i was thinking that it'd be a slow build-up sort of story, where spectra doesn't Really get involved until later (sold myself on the idea of spectra being involved at all because the concept of spectra kale being like, "you have mommy issues...i have mommy issues...we should team up" is hilarious to me)

i probably won't get back to this any time soon (i already have 2 big fic projects i'm working on, after all, and a 3rd one that's already on the backburner), but i thought i'd share it anyways!

i wouldn't mind talking more about this idea, though, in the meantime. maybe i'll make a post about the story itself or something. and if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask!

Indigo stops and turns upon hearing clattering behind themself. A TEC-78 is coming down the hall, carrying a big box overflowing with what looks like computer parts. They’re grumbling about something. Probably the fact they have to carry it, knowing how lazy those models are. Though, to be fair to this one, a CAR-11E would be better suited for this.

Just as Indigo is going to get back on track, and as the TEC-78 is turning to go down another corridor, something falls out of the box. They don’t stop, seemingly not having noticed.

They consider just letting them deal with whatever consequences will come from leaving whatever it was.

They sigh after a second.

“Hey! You dropped something!” they call, jogging back the way they came.

When the TEC-78 doesn’t respond, they huff.

Reaching the corridor they went down, Indigo is shocked to see that they’re already gone. Since when were those units so fast?

Frowning, they look down to see a hard drive. They pick it up. Eyes narrowing, they inspect it. There’s the familiar Vandelay logo on it in bright red on one side. On the other is a different logo. Squinting, they can just barely make out the text. SPECTRA. What the hell is that?

Indigo looks down the hall again. The TEC-78 is long gone by now. They don’t have the time to go hunting them down just to return a hard drive. So, they pocket it. They’ll just hand it off to the next TEC-78 they see. Better than leaving it on the floor to potentially get stepped on and crushed.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Battle Royal

First posted: June 8, 2018

Focuses on: The BatFam as seen by Clark Kent

My favorite bookmark: "Good grief this is perfect"

Tier: Bottom half at best in terms of metrics

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself frightfully by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

The title is on purpose. It's a pun. Not a battle royale but a literal battle royal, since it's a battle of pop princesses.

I got the idea for this one at work. I don't remember if it came from a conversation with my single coworker who also loved BatFam (and didn't know I wrote fic), or if we had a separate conversation and the creative juices kept flowing after I went back to my cube. I just know where I was when the pieces came together. (And then I had to jot note in my phone and wait because there was no time to write at work.)

Clark Kent was a firm believer that a home was imprinted by the emotions of its family. Step in the front door and the atmosphere of a place would fill your lungs and whisper secrets in your ear about the lives of the people who claimed it. Not all buildings could speak like this, or even all houses, but homes? Homes spoke.

This was my first time writing Clark. This was not my first time—or last—starting a fic with a bunch if philosophic rambling. It's kind of my thing at this point. Sorrynotsorry I guess.

Clark had felt the change again when Dick had left, storming off in high dudgeon to Bludhaven and Nightwing. 

I still haven't figured out how much of Dick's growing-up involved fights and tension and genuine falling out vs. just... the regular strain of adulthood and change. I waffle. In many ways, the Manor was far more expressive than its owner, and Clark appreciated the aid it gave in decoding the veritable sphinx he called a friend. In times of crisis, the bits Clark gleaned from the Manor gave him context and insight. In times of tranquility, he basked in the confirmation that all was well.

I like fics that play with the Manor as an Entity. This is as close as I've gotten to doing that myself. Bless Clark, he needs all the help he can get.

Clark and Bruce sat in the den, quiet conversation forgotten, as they listened to the brawl happening several doors down and a floor away.

I hate spatial orientation. Hate hate hate it. Trying to figure out where things and people should be and then keeping track of it all is such a headache.

It was a source of endless mystery to Clark how Bruce could stalk out of a room in chinos and a turtleneck and still somehow leave the impression of a cape billowing in his wake. Clark had asked Lois once if he was capable of doing the same thing. Lois had laughed herself nearly as blue as his tights.

So much googling of what rich people wear. And also what colors on Superman's costume go where.

There's a typo in this fic. I see it. I am not fixing it because that would tempt me to fix other things. But I see it. My fingertips itch.

Clark had once had the misfortune of pulling Damian out of a brawl. Damian had bit him. The bite hadn’t even left teethmarks, of course, but both Damian and Clark had been so embarrassed that it had taken weeks before the Waynes and Kents could get together without the teasing driving both participants into a full-body blush.

I forgot about this part. I am delighted with myself.

Clark raised one eyebrow, one Kon often used and Tim would be able to decipher with ease. What in the world? Clark was less fluent in Wayne-speak—Bruce wasn’t known for his communication skills, verbal or non—but he caught the gist as Tim widened his eyes slightly, gave his head a small shake, and then shrugged one shoulder eloquently. No frikkin’ idea.

My whole family is decently skilled at this. I remember being little and watching my parents communicate across a room and being so intrigued by the entire exchange. So of course I gave it to the Waynes and of course if Bruce does it, Clark would have learned at least a little.

Though not shouted, Bruce’s command was forceful enough that all four boys startled. Clark came close as well but managed to stop himself. When Bruce sounded that much like a dad, sometimes it was hard not to react like a kid.

I like this line, too.

Honestly, there were sometimes when Dick seemed like the metahuman instead of Clark. After all, Clark might be able to lift an airplane over his head, but could he bend over backward and look between his own feet? No, no he could not.

I just looked. Zootopia had been out a couple years by now, so the cadence makes sense. But also, this is just how I gripe at myself sometimes.

Dick shrugged and shifted his weight. Jason howled with rage as a window-rattling fart blasted in the general direction of his face. “Boys!” Now Bruce sounded more exasperated than stern, and Clark choked down laughter. “Dick, get off your brother. Jason, don’t stab Dick.”

This may be the most juvenile and cartoonish of all my fics. I am unashamed.

“Do you mean to tell me that you destroyed your grandmother’s Neoclassical coffee table over a disagreement over teenie-bopper pop stars?”

More googling about expensive furniture. Likely while sitting on my own IKEA couch.

I also had to do so much pop star googling. Dick's and Jason's points are pulled directly from some article somewhere that was trying to argue who was the best. But also, note, my first profanity, because "It's Britney, bitch" had to be done. It just had to.

To the side, Tim lifted a finger. “Uh, I like Mil—”

Obviously, Dick and Jason are the two older children, and at the time I wrote them at closer in age than the others (not what I do now), so they got the 90s pop queens, which meant Tim's and Damian's picks needed to be more modern. Tim's had to be cringe, so tada. Miley Cyrus.

“Miss Grande has a four-octave range and more class in her perfectly sculpted pinky finger than you have in your entire stunted body, and you will speak of her with respect.”

Now in 2023 I wish I'd given Damian a less problematic idol, but she made sense at the time. Also the aforementioned coworker was a stan, so it felt appropriate.

A solid hour of yelling was a therapeutic experience, much more so than, say, getting into a fistfight with a chainsmoker dressed like a flightless bird.

Gotham is such an absurd place, when you really think about it.

“I don’t understand modern music anymore. It’s all double-step and rat traps.” 

Dubstep and trap music, Bruce. Dubstep and trap music.

“Give me Debbie Gibson any day.” “Huh,” Clark mused as he passed his friend. “I always preferred Tiffany.”

More googling to find out who the Britney vs. Xtina were back in the day.

From somewhere deep in the Manor, Cassandra trilled, “Shakira, Shakiraaaaa!”

[bleachbleachbleach]

For the fanfic ask game! (14) If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? (and also which medium) (17) What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic? (30) Ask anything! Who is your current favorite character to write?

Fic Writing Meme

(14) If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? (and also which medium)

I have strongly considered making a graphics package for REVERSE THE BONE that’s just like, all the material culture ephemera Hinamori collected over the course of the Train Job—Kira’s map, packaging and flyers from Iwatobi, a tourism map of East Rukongai complete with stamp rally, the Takenoyu business card… I love that kind of in-universe graphic design, and I’d already made the train tickets. Buuuut if I made more graphics, it would take that time away from writing.

Other than that, I always think of D O N K I in visual terms, because Hitsugaya spends so much of that fic being overstimulated by Worm TVs and weird cups and fast trains and, of course, Don Quijote itself. It’s a fairly melancholy fic, but the visuals that attend it all are so absurd I feel like it would be cool to see in a visual medium that could really play with that contrast. Maybe one of those books where you can pull new elements into the scene via pull tab, or open little doors, or initiate fancy pop-ups! THERE’S A DONKI AT THE END OF THIS BOOK:

(Kyoto May 2023) "That's just the aesthetic of any dollar store" YEAH but you can buy perishable prepared foods inside this one somewhere! (By the socks.)

(17) What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

I wrote a post-TYBW fic that involved spending a lot of time burying bodies in mass graves, because the only divisions that got mentioned as cremating their dead were the 11th and the 4th. The body burying happened for the ~vibes and because it didn’t occur to me to think about it, and it wasn’t until after writing it that I had the thought that like, oh hm, why wouldn’t everyone be cremated? Because in my mind Japan is a country of cremation. So I assumed for years that the whole fic was based on a flawed premise, and oh well, it’s Soul Society so it does whatever I want it to, I’ll live with that.

But then when writing the Train Fic, I looked up how bodies might be transported, and what kinds of receptacles were used. And I was like, well, it’s really not going to be the same visual if it’s just a bunch of boxes of ashes, lol. But in my reading, I learned that the dominance of cremation in Japan is super recent! Like mid-20th century recent! And my perception otherwise is a very Buddhist bias! After that, I ended up starting research in the Yayoi period and working my way forward, because I figured I’d get the full historical picture and then decide how I wanted to imagine Soul Society’s version of that swathe of history, since I figured 1) lifespan difference might result in some pre-Edo holdovers when it comes to the basics, and 2) Soul Society wasn’t going to have the same socio-historical pressures driving change, so in those instances where they were choosing to model things they did after the Living World, they probably also just cherry-picked whatever they vibed with lol.

Anyhow, this was a cool, short, pretty cute video about ancient burial practices and burial jars!

(30) Ask anything! Who is your current favorite character to write?

HAHA realistically, whoever’s feeling collaborative and is willing to be nice to me. 🥺 But in the extremely *likely* scenario where someone puts a gun to my head and says "you have to write a Bleach fic right now, while we watch, or we shoot you!" I’d probably choose to do it with Matsumoto.

Because she’s patronized one Junrinan confectionary at least one time, and was excited about Orihime’s cooking, and loves shopping and celebrations of all kinds, and learned traditional dance despite obviously not growing up in The Scene, my mind has kind of spun Matsumoto into someone who sees a lot of value in experiencing and learning about different cultures (which in her context primarily means Rukongai districts), and it’s fun to write her interfacing with all these things. She doesn’t seem to have strong ties to the district she came from, necessarily, but I feel like she has strong values around recognizing Rukongai at large as a real place with infinite cultural particularities—particularities she wants to honor and know about—not just a blank slate waypoint.

Closer to canon, she has so many interesting relationships with people all across the board, you can kind of bring her into any situation and she’ll probably have some kind of generative connection to it. I also love that even though she’s open to conversations that might be really difficult OR down to clown, she also has a private core that she doesn’t share, and it can be really fun to play with that dialogism when narrating from her POV. She’s just a really good time all around!

[justalittlebitbored]

hi lovely!! i know the willow series is on hiatus, but i have so many outcomes in my head that i had to share with you! whether you decide to finish the series or not is up to you but the chapters are amazing and so well done. the way you describe the readers thoughts are so human, it’s all so enjoyable.

anyways back to what i think would happen, i totally think once rem and the reader confess it’s so going to be one of those angry love confessions. ugh like it’s obvious that her self esteem isn’t that great; we see it with rem and with Alex. So her lashing out finally after he interrogates her or maybe asks her why she’s been so weird would be kind of euphoric and relieving for her.

this is just one the things i’ve been thinking about, but truly your series has been my roman empire since i read it today! 💗💗

happy belated new year and i hope all is well either way you 🫶

hi queenie!!!

thank you so much for the love, I want to finish the series badly as it was all planned out and all but I just need to motivation to do so. hopefully soon?

the fact you said the series is your Roman Empire fills my heart with sm joy!!!!! I could potentially get part 3 up soon bc it’s only missing like 2 scenes I think from when I wrote it in May so if I knock two brain cells together I could post it potentially

I love that you have thought that they would have an angry love confession scene, looking at how I’ve written it that does seem like it is coming but I am an angsty girl so I had something different in mind.

I was thinking a sad confession scene between them both and she thinks it’s the breaking point of their friendship when he confesses too and it’s just so sad and tearful and wholesome.

I actually would love to explore an alternate ending where the confession is angry I agree it would be so freeing for her.

you know what babe willow tree part three is getting posted tonight. ITS HAPPENING!!!! and it’s bc of u

thank you for ur sweet message i love u girly pop

[culttvblog]

Dead Head: Why Me?

I am delighted to see that it has only been a little over six months since I wrote a post about my first impressions of this series (which you can read here: https://culttvblog.blogspot.com/2023/05/dead-head-first-impressions.html?m=1 and since writing that post I have discovered an excellent commentary on the four episodes of this show which reaches slightly different conclusions from me and which you can read here: https://lawson.amandaelanorart.co.uk/2019/08/12/dead-head-episode-one-why-me/ ). Delighted because this is a tricky, layered, series which requires work and has a reputation for being difficult. This reputation is deserved, to be honest, and I thought it was going to defeat me. I don't agree with the summary you will find online that this series makes no sense. It does make sense but it is frequently side-tracked by a number of different themes, side plots, agendas, and often loses sight of its main theme that there is a Jack the Ripper high up in the British establishment. In fact, having got as far as writing a post about part one of this show I can't really promise when or if I will write about the other three!

I see that in my introductory post I recommended watching the first two parts with the author's commentary first, and in fact I did that again myself, making notes. This gave me a handy list of some of the themes of the show and it will give some idea of its sheer breadth when I tell you that some of them are: it aimed to repopularise the wearing of hats; it refers to a mythical South London; Eddie (the protagonist) is a dodgy Everyman character; we don't know who the Jack the Ripper is; it uses a narrative trick of revisiting places where things/people have changed; Eddie narrates from after the events of the show; Eddie finds the woman changed/inexplicable in every sex scene; it contains two circles of hell, upper and lower class; its style is high opera/melodrama; real information is mixed with fiction; it was intended to be innovative; influenced by British officers going renegade in the Troubles because they thought what the government was doing was wrong and who would often be in touch with the IRA; contrasts town with country and the urban is at sea in the country; portrays the old Tory party sliding into decadence under Thatcher; nothing is explained from higher to lower in society so it's a mystery; parodies a scene sinking a car in Psycho but it doesn't sink; and it is an extreme case of upstairs vs downstairs. Phew. There is the additional element that all four episodes are very different: Amanda Elanor whose site I link above comments that it may even be best understood as if it were four separate plays with the same protagonist, although this may detract from the themes of different circles of hell and situations and people changing, as well as the way the whole show is narrated after the events depicted, as described by Howard Brenton the author.

Why Me? is the first episode and is the most stylistically film noir. Eddie is a career criminal who is commissioned to collect and deliver a package. Unfortunately there is nobody there at the planned destination, and against instructions he opens to package to find that there is a decapitated head inside.

The events of the episode begin on a very specific date: the day of Prince William's birth, 21st June 1982, and Eddie pops into a pub to drink to the new prince's health. This immediately starts an important theme of the show, which is the establishment, Eddie's attitude to it, and its treatment of him. He makes fun of someone else for voting Tory before saying that he himself votes Tory out of loyalty to the queen. This contrasts keenly with the way he is clearly working class and comments repeatedly about the wealthy and privileged. You wouldn't know that these events take place in June in Britain because of the continual fog, it's night so everything is dark, and the 1950s Film Noir aesthetic also makes it darker.

He is naturally surprised to find a decapitated head in the package he has been asked to deliver and dumps it in the river. He is even more surprised to be picked up by Special Branch and given money and a bottle of Glenmorangie with a warning to shut up about the head. It is immediately clear that something is going on, and we are thus far in classic film noir or mystery territory.

But then the film noir set-up is twisted. Eddie finds himself at his ex-wife's flat, only to find that it has been completely done out in luxurious 1980s style and the bathroom is full of poofy toiletries, which he recognises as smelling like the Special Branch man. So we immediately move into a strange, changed, almost dream-like territory. I actually can't tell you how much I like this effect. You literally never expect what this show throws at you next, which is obviously exactly what Eddie experiences.

There is a recurring theme in this episode of hats as related to heads. As I mentioned above Brenton commented that he hoped to repopularise the wearing of hats, but here the hat/head trope is slightly more complex. Eddie's wife is clearly involved somehow, and he wants to know what she's got in her hatbox. She brings the themes full circle by commenting that only people like Princess Margaret have hat boxes, pointing to royalty and the establishment as being the likely culprits for owning hats in boxes, which may actually turn out to be heads. She does actually have a hat in a box which turns out to be a hat not a head, and then she turns in Eddie to whoever is after him. This is complex plotting with subtle pointers and (?mis)direction which requires work to get your head round.

At the end it is in the paper that the head has been found and Eddie comments that a right season in hell is starting.

It's not a criticism as such but I think the show's nature as I have spelled it out here (which has required several viewings and even making notes) may explain why this show isn't well known or very popular. It's really hard work and can leave people thinking that it makes absolutely no sense. I disagree with this verdict but you can't expect this sort of thing to be popular.

Nonetheless I am pretty well certain that the readers of this blog will be well able to get their heads round it and appreciate this excellent television.

This blog is mirrored at

culttvblog.tumblr.com/archive (from September 2023) and culttvblog.substack.com (from January 2023 and where you can subscribe by email)

Archives from 2013 to September 2023 may be found at culttvblog.blogspot.com and there is an index to the tags used on the Tumblr version at https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/729194158177370112/this-blog

[mikeywayarchive]

Interview transcript under the cut:

Elevator Going Up

As a member of My Chemical Romance, Mikey Way helped burn the rulebook in the post-emo rock world. Now he's heading toward the next level of his musical evolution in this Electric Century.

Story: Jason Pettigrew

Photos: Jonathan Weiner

When bassist Mikey Way and his bandmates decided to adjourn My Chemical Romance late last March, he didn't waste any time with self-appraisals, exit interviews or other gestures meant to celebrate career retrospectives or jobs well done. Instead, he called up his longtime friend and creative foil Dave Debiak and said four words: "The time is now."

Introducing Electric Century, Way's new post-MCR vehicle which has more in common with British alt-rock avatars than the scene his previous band came up through, shook up and escaped from. The name was something Way created in his high school science class, writing on a notebook long before he retooled hell-raising author Irvine Welsh's Ecstasy: Three Tales Of Chemical Romance for his previous band. "Electric Century is meant to convey the dawn of something," Way explains from his hotel room in Los Angeles, where he's taking meetings.

"In history, the electric century notes a world change; electricity changed the world and people stopped using steam power. Just when you thought you knew all the information about something, you realized you don't know everything. I used to talk with my brother about that name, like it should be a Britpop band name. It always struck me in a big way, and I never stopped thinking about it."

After completing the massive touring campaign for 2006's The Black Parade, Way thought he would have some significant downtime from MCR to put a new project into action. He and Debiak have known each other since the early days in Jersey City when Debiak was fronting alt-rock outfits Sleep Station and New London Fire (another band name the moniker-conjuring Way devised) and MCR were starting to cut their teen-vampire teeth in basements and house parties. In the past few years, the duo wrote eight songs together, but none of the tracks ever came to fruition and Debiak continued writing for his projects..

"We got together every day for six, seven months," remembers Way. "We were on track: That was going to be my band while My Chem were on hold. I was really protective of the name, in an in-case-of-emergency-break-glass kind of way. Dave and I didn't get to finish: We were supposed to keep writing and do an album, but then My Chem went in the studio to do what became Conventional Weapons, and the machine had swallowed me. So when the band was ending, I called up Dave. We can go into a room with guitars and come up with stuff that is fantastic. I didn't want to lose that."

Way may have lost his flagship band, but he gained a special chemistry from working with his longtime friend-and the results are quite diverse. "Can You Take Me Home" has an R&B vibe that would fit quite nicely on playlists between classic Motown sides and Scissor Sisters. The influence of Way's '80s British rock affectations (cf. New Order, Public Image Ltd., the Lightning Seeds) comes through on the percolating and earnest "Someone Like You." The band's bid for Top 40 radio domination, "I Lied," forges an alloy of decades-proven electronic pop and the kind of sincerity found in bands like fun. and twenty one pilots. Throughout, Debiak delivers the songs with the soul and confidence of a veteran twice his age. The duo are striving to make something outside their storied pasts, instead of trying to reconstruct their previous accomplishments for a new generation of listeners. "The vision is still morphing in my head," Way admits. "I'm looking to bend the conventions of rock 'n' roll and electronic music. There are going to be curveballs."

That's the whole point. Way is smart enough to expect the initial fan response to Electric Century could put him in a position to become his own worst enemy. He knows full well the influential musical flashpoints of his youth are not his competitors. That designation belongs to the band who wrote songs like "Welcome To The Black Parade" and "I'm Not Okay. (I Promise)" He's philosophical and patient when it comes to understanding how fan worship works and how kneejerk expectations vary. Fortunately, he's also punk enough not to care.

"Oh, that's going to happen forever," Way says about being his own competition. "There's nothing that is ever going to stop that from happening. But I think a lot of this music will connect to the kid who loved whatever MCR album. There's still a connection because of what's in my heart and what | write. Those fans have also grown up: I know their personal tastes have expanded as much as my life has. If they expect Black Parade II and don't get it, I don't think it will be a problem, either way. I like to think of [Electric Century] as going to a restaurant and having the waiter bring you something you didn't order but you enjoy it, anyway. I think our music will be jarring, but a positive experience for people."

As this issue goes to press, Way and Debiak haven't left the confines of being a studio project, having written around 40 songs, playing all the guitars, bass, keyboards and sharing singing and programming duties.

(Debiak's longtime songwriting partner Dan Goodwin shared in the instrumental duties; producer Matt Squire teamed up with the duo for "Hey Lacie," another EC bid for pop immortality.) As we went to press, they officially added bassist Justin Siegel (ex-Stars In Stereo) to the lineup, allowing Way to focus on guitar and keyboards. Some of the other people who have come in and out of Electric Century's orbit would make music fans' jaws drop and eyes widen at every turn. ("I'm very methodical in making sure the lineup is right before the dog and pony show begins.")

But Way isn't in any hurry to make a bad decision; that he made the decision to take charge of his destiny in the first place is its own reward. In his journey from the meek, bespectacled kid whose train conductor hat was a punchline for the stage banter of "tru punx" on Warped a decade ago to the confident artist plotting his future with Electric Century, Way is ready for more self-actualizing moments as both musician and person. If he wants to cling on anything from his past, he could consider reprinting an old MCR shirt design from the Black Parade era-the one that simply reads MIKEY FUCKIN' WAY.

When these points are read back to him, Way laughs for a bit then falls silent. "It's a conversation Gerard and I had at his house recently," he says. "He told me, 'You've grown so much, and you have all this potential. People don't know what you're capable of. It's time for you to be the general of your own army.’

"It was a very touching conversation to have," he says. "Now it's time for me to put up or shut up." -alt

Alternative Press issue 309.2 [April 2014]