#this is all just a huge joke but i would love to see timmy in an art heist movie fr

[otrtbs]

forever sad that arb! is not a movie or show i can sit down and watch :(

me too tbh 😭 i want an hbo series! or a baz luhrmann movie asjkashg i just wanna see timothee chalamet be an art heist mastermind (which is one of the reasons why i wrote the fic lmaoo) but it would be cool if someone else got with the vision!!

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.���

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room you had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge ��really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[jadeyarts]

two years ago i drew art to ... "celebrate" (if you can call it that) the release of fairly odder, and i was asked this question:

truth was i hadn't actually watched it so i couldn't actually answer the question fairly. but now that i've actually watched it: apparently, yeah.

i wouldn't call it a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination - it's a relatively mundane nickcom that just happens to feature cosmo and wanda. its not as funny as drake and josh or icarly, but not as terrible as sam and kat or... the... superhero nickcom? i definitely like it much better than i liked victorious. and i do think it's a lot more creative than it was initially given credit for when it first released. it doesn't come across as trying to devalue animation as a medium but rather an experiment in blending the two mediums. though the 2d animation in the series is a little wonk when it's more than just cosmo and wanda.

some jokes are really, really miss for me - but a lot do make me laugh. the acting is decent - they're certainly no emmy or oscar winners with these performances. but i really do think they're fine. campy and hammy and perfect for a nickcom. if this had come out around in the early 2000s, 2010s maybe, i could see it doing well - doing better than it did in 2022, at least. it's absurd in all the ways i personally find entertaining in a series. despite everything i see wrong with it and the ways i think it's not good, i'm liking it.

i love the way the plot is introduced adds to timmy's character - emphasizing that empathy and kindness he's always shown in the original series that i loved so much. that he wanted cosmo and wanda to look after his younger cousin he knew would struggle to adjust to a new environment, with her entire life being flipped upside down - wanting them to comfort her and be there for her during this period of her life... it reminds me why i've always loved timmy so much as a character. i love that they establish he's still a good-hearted person.

yes, timmy suddenly having a cousin is a little jarring but i always found it unrealistic that he didn't have any in the original series when he's meant to be an average kid - the average kid has a ton of cousins! - so i think her existence is a good call! sure, i wouldnt call viv or roy (viv maybe, roy definitely not) miserable enough to really need fairies the way timmy ever did, or the way chloe did, but honestly at that point i genuinely believe jorgen would be willing to let the family do what they want as long as they otherwise followed da rules and stayed out of his way. and i like the idea that cosmo and wanda can be godparents in ways that aren't the norm for other godparents anyway.

i'm also liking most of the new characters introduced in fairly odder and i could easily see them fitting into the original series! rachel and zina in particular make me laugh out loud. when they're not making weird jokes about zina's obsession with roy's scent, she cracks me up. i like the way she is confident and charismatic but also a huge obsessive weirdo, but mostly not in a way that made me uncomfortable like tootie. her back and forth with roy is actually entertaining and if she ever actually got together with him i don't think i'd mind at all. in fact maybe i'd even be a fan?

and i like how absolutely inconsiderate and uncaring and truly sick in the head rachel is - she is a bitch in the most literal sense. she barks at people. ty seems a little more considerate considering he realizes he was impulsive and should have told viv about what was going on then apologizes. but rachel is dramatic, describes herself as nuts, and selfish. she's mostly not making much of an effort to bond with viv - it's not like shes a horrible stepmother or anything, she clearly doesn't dislike viv and treats her decently. she's not antagonizing her or going out of her way to be horrible to her - but she is also nuts and rude. and she barks at people constantly. she's fucking weird and self-absorbed and i love her so much.

and roy - i love the way he mirrors timmy's character as someone who is self absorbed and tactless, irresponsible and impulsive... but ultimately extremely caring and loving. he's easy going, and easily accepts the unexpected and strange. the difference is he's exactly as popular as i think timmy realistically would have been, being a charismatic and natural leader. he's not as quick thinking and cunning as i think timmy is, but viv kind of makes up for it, i think.

viv is... a little more... normal than i was hoping for. she's fine, and i think she makes a decent foil for roy in that respect. much like i think chloe made the perfect foil for timmy. but i kind of hoped that viv's neurotic social-awkwardness and people-pleasing would be more exaggerated like chloe's was. not in the same ways, of course, it'd be boring to have an exact duplicate of chloe when roy isn't even an exact duplicate of timmy per say. but i just feel like viv was far more normal than timmy and wanda's conversation about viv being a mess lead me to believe she would be. and while i like the idea that it's cosmo and wanda's influence that helped bring her out of her shell and helped her adjust to dimmsdale, i do wish it could have been shown more.

with their parents' love of dancing and highly dramatic demeanors, combined with the characterization for their children, the whole family kind of has the vibes of a remix of early series timmy's parents, chloe, and timmy - even being in a family set-up similar to what i personally wanted to happen with timmy and chloe - but despite their similarities theyre also different enough to stand apart! i can see them being family because they're similar without being carbon copies. it's fun for me, personally, because exploring extended and blended families and the ways they can be similar and different is something that i like.

i also liked nate buxaplenty! i never liked remy, but nate was funny.

the only real objection i have is the subplot where vicky has a thing for crocker. though i guess honestly thats just because i personally always headcanoned crocker as her uncle but that's not canon so thats not really substantial grounds. the fact theres an age gap would really only be terrible if crocker actually reciprocated but he doesn't so it's weird, but honestly fine. my second instinct is to say it devalues her as a character but she had weird taste in men in the original series and she was repeatedly shown to be exactly like that when infatuated so it fits her character. i still don't like it... but its fine. could do without, though.

[destinyc1020]

Why the moment we discussed something including Timmy is because we hate him🙄

The same way I don’t think he is not the only actor who could act the Wonka role in a successful way, the same way I think Tom wasn’t the only actor who could do a successful Spider-Man.

Hopefully both will be having successful roles in the future, not IP related.

Anon, trust me... some people in my inbox don't like Timmy lol. Some of that may have to do with the Timdaya shippers. 😒 But I've even gotten mouthfuls from people who came for my throat for posting ANYTHING related to him after the SNL skit.

So yea, when I say that some people in here hate him, I'm not joking lol. I see my inbox and what ppl say. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Plus, you can tell by some of the comments undermining the success of "Wonka". Some Anons wanna attribute it to anything else possible.... but let it be another actor with a good box office result for their film, and it was ALL due to them. 👀

I mean, to me, it's a bit of a double standard, no? 🤔

Re: Tom/Spider-man....

I mean, like "Wonka", "Spiderman" is a huge IP. Actually, Spider-man is an even BIGGER IP than Wonka (imo) AND he's a very beloved character in the Marvel and comic book world just in general. So yea, the film was guaranteed to make money REGARDLESS of who they cast in the role. 🤷🏾‍♀️

BUT!!!! I'll say the same thing that I said about Austin and Timmy..... I don't think Tom's Spiderman films would have been HALF as successful as they have been had it not just been for TOM and how WELL he plays the role, as well as how charismatic and likable he is off-screen too!😃 🤷🏾‍♀️

Tom was also kind of like Austin in the fact that nobody knew who the heck this guy was until he was cast as Peter Parker/Spider-man. So, for Tom, a relative unknown, to pull off such great box office numbers, that was def due to people genuinely enjoying him in the role.

Could the spidey films have been successful had they cast Asa Butterfield instead? Yes, of course! Like I said, Spiderman is a HUGE, beloved, and well-known IP.

BUT! I honestly don't think the films would have been AS successful with Asa tbh..... Tom has the charisma, he LOVES the character, he does a lot of his own stunts and has the gymnastic background, etc.

Like seriously y'all.....Sometimes, we really have to trust casting directors. 😅 They cast certain actors for particular roles for a REASON. Tom was the BEST CHOICE for the role, and I don't think those films would have been as successful if they had cast someone else. Jmho. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[sirensmojo]

"Oh! To remember!" - Hubby!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff.

gifs from @thomasfckinshelby {here is the post}

Summary: You make Tommy a surprise by taking him to the countryside. It brings back memories of the two teenagers you used to be before the war happened.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I just want him to be happy, seriously + POLLY BEING A GRANDMOTHER???? Our Queen.

PS: I know I talked to you about a carpets story, it IS coming don't worry!

*Masterlist*

It was early in the morning when the rays of the sun fondled your face, making you open your eyes. Tommy was already up, putting on his tie and you almost jumped from bed to take it from his hands.

As you were still a bit dizzy from how early it was and how fast you got up, you stumbled on the carpet, but his rough hands caught your waist as a giggle escaped your lips.

His brows were raised, "So early in the morning, you got some' to do today, eh?" You could hear mockery in his tone and you hit his chest with the palm of one of your hands as the other was pulling on his undone tie.

As he leant forwards towards you, you teased his lips with the tip of your nose and finally gave him your lips after hearing a groan from his throat.

He perfectly knew what was happening today, you drew a black star a week from now in his agenda.

"Y/N!" Tommy called, and his desk lady pleaded with her eyes to not let her deal with him.

it wasn't as if he was a bad guy, no, he just appeared to be as cold as ice and as distant as he could be.

You were about to ignore his call along with the staring secretary but you saw her lips moving without any sound getting out "Please."

Okay, this time you will not let her be any more terrified by your husband.

It was a little game for you, to never fully talk to him, just like he did. Even though he had reasons not to talk so much and you didn't. You used to leave him pieces of evidence here and there so he would understand what you were up to.

No need to say that whenever you would sneak into his office to put a black star on his agenda, it was to his secretary he would later ask questions, and as she was oh so scared, she wouldn't give satisfying answers which made him become even more cold and distant.

You weren't working anywhere but staying Home all day long waiting for him to get back wasn't on the schedule. What you loved to do most was to organise all types of dinners and parties.

Tommy was most of the time tired but he never missed one, as he knew it was important for you.

Only, whenever he thought the party should be over, he would come closer to you and gently press his lips on your forehead, his fingers diving into your mane.

And just like that, you understood it was time to lead the people out of the mansion, so you could take care of your Shelby.

You closed the door in front of you, rolling your eyes to yourself and joined his office. Your head peeked through the door and you cleared your throat, leading Timmy to lift his gaze to you.

He patted the page, "Why is there a black star on Thursday?"

"Come 'ere" you answered, your index indicating to Tommy to come near you.

He got up without hesitation and walked towards you, making you enter his office completely and close the door behind you.

The connexion between you had always been more than mental or physical, it was a mix of both with something else, something you could never fully get, but you just knew of its presence.

Maybe it was your beings that were combining together, you were him and he was you.

Or was he more you than yourself?

Your back was flat on the door when you felt his hands on your hips. A smile instantly grew on your lips as his blue icy iris were staring into your soul that was hidden behind your iris.

A grumpy "Hm" escaped his lips as your foreheads touched. He closed his eyes for a second, the smell of your perfume filling his nostrils. He was elsewhere, in a dimension where only you and he existed. Somewhere he was safe and relieved of any pressure.

"A surprise, Tommy." You muttered only inches away from his lips.

His eyes opened softly and he raised a hand to your face, cupping one of your cheeks. You were staring at him as his thumb moved to rub your lips softly.

Nothing needed to be said in those moments, what your eyes were saying was more than enough. You understood him, and he understood you, it has been like that for so long, but the love bonding you never extinguished, and you couldn't imagine that someday it would.

"You'll just have to bring yourself, I'll take care of the rest. Only you and me." You pointed towards him, then towards you before flattening your hand on his shoulders in a tender way.

"Don't come back too late, huh?" You raised a brow as you tied his tie around his neck.

"If the answer doesn’t please you I’ll accidentally get choked. That’s the plan," He put his hand on yours to avoid you from even thinking of doing it.

You glared at him.

"I know your tricks now." He finished and you wanted to show him your tongue so badly, but you tried to stay solemn, your head high.

"I will not even comment on such calumny, Mr Shelby.”

You were so grateful he was still speaking to you fluently. He wasn’t like that with anyone but your children and you, which you found to be a blessing.

You knew he wasn’t living a life where he could be with his family as often as he would like and that his past deeply scarred him, but he almost was the same with you, still trying to joke and laugh even if his tone wasn’t following the movement, he tried. And that was all that mattered.

You had the love of your life and four beautiful children by your side, nothing would ever take that away from you. And even if you weren’t in business, by not trying to interfere, you were easing him more than you even knew.

(...)

“Beth! bring down your brothers and sisters, grandma Polly is here” You screamed toward the stairs as a maid brought the tea to the living room.

Polly looked at you with the type of stare only she, could give, ”you’re up to something, I can tell.”

You crossed your legs with a pleased smile, “Taking my Tommy to the countryside!” You said trying to remain calm, but she knew you too well.

“Well, I wonder why you’re not all over the place already, it’s not like you’re the good calm girl.” She smiled at you, “I’m sure he will be happy. But don’t think he’ll show ya.” She patted your knee with a side-eye look, her trembling voice filled with sarcasm.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it, “I know how Aberama loves having our children.” You teased and she giggled. “It’s me taking care of all of them.”

“I knew it! He, too, is a child!” You exclaimed, raising your hands in the air.

“What boy of this family isn’t?” Polly raised her eyebrows before your youngest boy ran into her, followed by the entire team. They were squeezing their grandma in their arms as if she would be gone in a blink of an eye.

You laughed so hard seeing how they were all around Polly that couldn’t even hug them all.

Your heart was full of love at this moment.

Your eldest daughter came sitting on the armchair of the sofa where you were sitting, dropping her head on your shoulder.

“It is said Aberama and grandma will bring us with them on the road, is it true?” Your fourteen years old girl knew how to make a deal, she exchanged a look with Polly and straightened her head, looking right at you.

“Are you sure it’s Polly’s idea, it sounds more like you’re taking her as a hostage, Beth?”

“It’s called bargain! You always talk about grandma Pol being a gypsy queen, I want to see her world!” Beth’s high pitched tone resonated in the room, even the cat woke up from its nap to see what was happening.

“No need to put yourself in such condition, of course, you can all go with them. It’s your family.” You took your little girl in your arms, holding her close as fondling her long hair.

(...)

It was already 5 and you began to pace up and down before the carriage. It was your horse exhaling noisily that made you look up to him and caress his forehead while murmuring things to him. Basically telling him your day.

You didn’t realize but Tom had arrived, and a smile automatically drew on his lips when he saw you talking to your horse. It was as if he rewind the time and you were back to 1911 in your father’s stable with your long muddy dress and hay all over your mane.

He got close quickly and you startled when feeling his rough black gloves grabbing your elbow. “Shit, Tommy.”

He cleared his throat while looking at the horizon. A smile grew at the corner of your lips seeing how handsome he was, his hat on his head with his large black coat, a cigarette in between his lips. This handsome husband, father and gangster was all yours.

“Come up there! We’re going,” you pointed at the sitting place.

(...)

It has been half an hour since you departed from the Arrow House and the silence between you two was peaceful. You knew Tommy will never admit it, but he somehow took a liking to your parties and dinners, because he wasn’t forced to do anything, to be anything.

He could just be the man smoking cigarettes at the back of the room or the one drinking silently while sitting from the beginning of the event to its end. He could be alone, while not quite being alone.

You noticed he needed to be alone to think about his business, and as soon as he started to go walk alone in the woods at night, you started to organise garden parties.

Thomas didn’t need to be fully alone, he just needed people not to disturb him. And with such huge parties that was what you offered him. He didn’t need to sleep all night long outside now.

He could just sit at a table in the garden and smoke while sipping on his whiskey.

You finally stop the horse in a huge field, right under an imposing tree. It was probably a hundred years old, his trunk as solid as a rock, or maybe even stronger...

Tommy got up in the carriage, looking both sides to see if he knew the place before he got down, feet on earth.

You turned to him, a smile on your face, “Do you remember?” Your voice was low. He looked down at you, a curious gleam animating his blue iris.

“There!” you told him, pointing at the tree.

You saw in his expression he indeed remembered this place, and it was enough to warm your heart. You got up and joined the back of the carriage, taking the plates you had cooked for the occasion.

When you got back, his eyes directly went into yours, as if he had been searching for you. “Yes?” You raised a brow.

“It’s your family’s field.” His deep voice made you shiver, or maybe it was the cold spring breeze?

The old farm was still present not too far from where you were, but there were no animals left.

Your eyes lifted to him in an instant, his face was serene, his mind elsewhere, surely in the tone of memories of another time. Where all you used to worry about was the size of your stables once you’ll be married to Tom.

You served him a dish of his favourite food before handing it to him which he gladly took after sitting comfortably at the feet of the huge tree, his back against the tree.

“Don’t forget the bread.” You let out pointing to the bag next to him.

You finally sit down next to him and lift your gaze to the branch of the tree. The wind was present, but not in an annoying way, in a reassuring way. It was as if he was the one singing memories of before the War to both of you.

You raised your hand to the sky and it quickly got reached by Tommy’s that rubbed his thumb onto your skin.

You authorized yourself to dive into his eyes only to find your Tommy. The same one that was seated under the same three years and years ago. The Tommy that always used to make jokes, the one that asked your father for your hand, the one that always helped your mother with her horses.

It was something you would never get tired of, horses. It was the one thing always keeping you close to the man he once was, not that you missed that man, but you cherished the fact you had such memories of him. He was so different now…

“Happy Birthday, Tommy.” You muttered outright while dropping the back of your head against his chest, looking at his face from under.

He inhales deeply before exhaling loudly. And it was you, that sealed your lips together, bearing your love to him.

[adoresobs]

- rollercoaster! ( 𝐓.𝐂 )

the reader starts a livestream and gets bombarded with comments telling her to get on tiktok with timmy. completely confused, she looks at the tiktoks made of him and shows him, making him flustered all on the livestream.

THIS FIC CONTAINS timmy being the loml, references to sex

𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓

you’d heard of tiktok before, but you’d never thought to jump on there and become a ‘tiktoker’.

many of your fans would’ve liked it and you’d appeared in many of your friends’ tiktoks but you never really thought much about making one.

you got up from the bed that you and timmy were both laying in, him groaning in protest since he wanted to cuddle more. “big baby.” you muttered, grabbing your laptop from the nightstand beside you and walking over to grab its charger.

you then returned to your spot on the bed, opening up your laptop so your phone would have something to sit up on. going to instagram and starting up a live video, you waved as you watched many people pile in to see you.

“hi guys!” you greeted making timothée look up at you to see who you were talking to. he saw the phone and just assumed you were on a live stream.

he snaked his arm around your stomach, pulling you back.

the people watching could only see his arm, but they knew who it was since your relationship was no secret.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝗼𝐧𝐞 we can always trust y/n to give us content

you laughed at that comment, moving your hand back so you could run it through his hair. “he’s being a huge baby right now.” you said, more comments toppling in at your statement.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐰𝗼 Y/N REACT TO THE TIMMY TIKTOKS

you raised your brow at that one. “timmy tiktoks?” you asked. “how about it, guys? should i look at some ‘timmy tiktoks’?” you questioned, joking mostly. it would be fun to see what they were talking about though.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 look at what they say about ur man, queen

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐟𝗼𝐮𝐫 pls dont let her see mine, god

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 people on tiktok are wild 😔

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐱 pLS QUEEN

a soft laugh made its way out of your mouth due to the use of ‘queen’ in the comments and the way there seemed to be a lot of tiktoks about him. “alright, fine.” you nodded your head, downloading the app onto your computer. once it was installed and you had made your account, you were already confused.

“there’s so much happening already.” you muttered. hearing timothée chuckle beside you, you whined. “i promise i’m not that old.” you said.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 tell us ur user tho

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 OH SHIT GTG DELETE EVERY TIKTOK IVE MADE ABOUT TIMOTHÉE

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 we’re about to get exposed

you typed into the search bar: timothée chalamet. there were lots of videos, more than you and thousands of other people could count. “holy shit, people on here love you.” you murmured which caused him to give you a squeeze since his arm was still very much hooked around your stomach.

“oh no-” he said, suddenly feeling a little shy all of the sudden.

“wait, what’s this one-” you stopped mid-sentence to click on a video.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 here we go ladies and gentlemen

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 who suggested this cus now i wanna fight

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 what the hell did i just come into

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 y/n will u still love us after this 😔

“what- of course i will!” you reassured now focusing on the loud tiktok. “rollercoasters i wanna ride on in 2020? why is this in the hashtag- OH.” your eyes widened when you realized what was going on. at first it was showing actual rollercoasters but now it was showing pictures of your boyfriend.

“what?” timothée spoke up, not paying attention what was going on on the screen.

“nothing, bébé.” you shook your head, biting down on your lip to keep in your shock and laughter.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐟𝗼𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 YALL SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN U SUGGEST SHIT

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 STOP CORRUPTING MY BABIES ILL FIGHT

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 im tryna ride on that rollercoaster too, that person aint special

“you knowwww? i think that’s enough tiktok for today.” you laughed, grabbing your phone and shutting your laptop.

“i didn’t even get to watch them.” timothée whined. 

“you better appreciate the fact that you didn’t get to see it.” you nudged him back.

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 this is why we cant have nice things

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 who told her to do that, im coming to throw their ass off a roof

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 you should’ve watched the one where they were like: omw to audition to be the peach in cmbyn.

that comment definitely caught your eye since you had watched the peach scene and you were sure you’d never forget it.

“the PEACH?” you shouted, not realizing how loud your screech was.

“did- did i just read that correctly...” timothée chimed in, his mouth in the shape of an ‘o’.

“this is where i log off and never log back on.” you joked, ending the live soon after.

[movedto-erodasghosts]

silence

moved to @erodasghosts​

a spinoff fic for perennial by @peeterparkr. i highly recommend reading it :)

pairing: tom holland x reader / timothée chalamet x reader

need to know: this could be read alone but i highly suggest reading perennial! for background... tom and y/n were childhood enemies that ended up falling for one another over time, but tom ended up breaking things off. y/n met and dated timmy at a vulnerable time, and he seemed to be the perfect answer to her problems. emma is timmy’s friend, y/n’s too. rome is where tom truly broke y/n’s heart for the first time, and that is what led to her ending up with timmy. timmy had proposed to y/n, but she wasn’t sure about where her feelings were. y/n wrote a script about it all, talking about the heartbreak she experienced through it, which led to the second huge downfall in their relationship and so she ran to LA to give tom space... i think that is all? and that’s what you missed on glee :)

description: tom broke y/n’s heart, again, and timothée wants to be there to help her

warning/s: none

word count: ~6.2k

a/n: a huge thanks to nancy for letting me write this and for helping me so much to write it! also i am bad at fic titles so :)

check out my other fic based off of perennial/perfidy 

masterlist

not my gif

It was hard to tell what was worse, the pain of knowing she had broken his heart or the burning she still felt rising from beneath her scars that he had left on her after Rome. She wasn’t quite sure why she still felt this need to blame herself, as if there was only one person to blame, but it was easier to accept it was all her fault. 

Y/n’s job at the flower shop was meant to help distract her, to give her something to focus on other than what had happened with Tom. In reality, she had just zoned out for the most part, absentmindedly piecing together bouquets together. In an attempt to actually distract herself she decided she would learn the meanings of the different flowers, though she wasn’t sure how well it was sticking.

She carefully rearranged the flowers in front of her, listening as Timothée spoke on. How long had she been working on that same bouquet? Seemed like seconds, but at the same time hours. Getting lost in her own thoughts and paying little to no attention to the things around her seemed to become easier and easier for her to do. She was still processing the things she had said to Tom, and the things that he said in return, so not much else appeared to matter.

Going to LA had been the perfect opportunity for her to get away, she needed to give him space. A part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right choice. Emma would of course catch her in these moments, soon after taking her to try some new distraction. Undoubtedly, nothing was working as a real distraction, though. Actively avoiding thinking about the situation only made her think about it more. Facing it head on wasn’t really possible, as there was no way Tom would be reaching out to her, or that she would be reaching out for him again. She had no other choice, it seemed, than to sit in her pain and accept the truth of her actions.

“Y/n?” Tim tapped her shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Her eyes refocused as she finished the flower arrangement and pulled herself out of her thoughts, “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”

Tim smiled weakly, trying to offer even the smallest bits of sympathy. He glanced at her bouquet,   “I was just wondering if you wanted to go to that old ice cream stand after your shift ends?”

“That’d be great!” Emma chimed in, “Y/n, you can leave early and I’ll take over.”

“Oh, I--

“You’re going,” Emma said sternly as she raised a brow. “It’s close by, and you’ve hardly been anywhere other than the apartment and shop for days.”

Maybe that was true, but y/n didn’t want to think about it, not really. Emma was doing what she could to give different forms of distraction, hoping something might stick. They were both healing from a pain, and Emma had decided to run from her own. She wouldn’t force y/n into some form of coping that she didn’t want to try, but she was doing what worked for her, even as she was becoming less and less sure of just how effective it was.

“Emma, come on.” Tim leaned against the counter, “She doesn’t have to go.”

“She needs to,” she took a hold of y/n’s shoulders, leading her to the other side of the counter and grabbing Tim along her way. “It’ll be quick, it’s blazing hot out today and I expect the two of you to bring me back pasta from that one dinner.”

“Anything else, your majesty?” Y/n joked, a playful smile growing on her lips. She figured it was hopeless to fight Emma on whether she should go or not.

“Yes, actually. If you’re going to end up going on one of your…” Emma wiggled her fingers at the pair, “Tim and y/n walks, don’t bother with the pasta. It’ll just be… gross.” Her nose scrunched at the thought.

Tim chuckled, “Tim and y/n walks?”

“You know, where you get side tracked by some perfectly placed distraction, end up taking a long walk and talking about life and all of it’s drama and woes. Suddenly, the rain begins to fall!” Emma dramatically trickled her fingers down like rain. “Oh, but there is something else distracting you, and it’s worth getting caught in the rain. All of this, and not to mention you haven’t even made it to your initial destination.”

“Okay, okay. I think we get the point.” Tim pushed Emma’s hands down, “No need for the theatrics.”

“Ironic coming from you, hmm?” Emma grinned.

“You’re right!” Y/n interrupted them, gaining both of their attention. “I could use a quick trip like that. Maybe it’ll pull me out of this...” she sighed, “maybe it’ll be the perfect distraction.

Neither Tim nor Emma really bought it, they both knew distractions didn’t work for y/n, no matter how much Emma wished they would. But they would take what they could at that point, unsure of what else they could really try.

“Thank you,” Emma took her place behind the counter. “I’ll see you two later, then.”

She had been right, y/n did need to get out and do something other than work, even if it was something so small as a walk for ice cream. She was doing herself no favors sitting around and thinking on and on about what could’ve been, or even what was. Her regrets would stick with her no matter what she did, though.

Emma’s distractions could only do so much, and their effects would only last for so long. Y/n wasn’t sure that she could just forget what had happened, and she was less sure that she had even wanted to forget. It was what Emma had claimed to be the best solution, to just let it go and move on like you weren’t coming out of a life changing relationship, if that’s what it could be called. But nothing about forgetting seemed easier than living with the pain. Where would one even start with forgetting, y/n had wondered.

She could start with forgetting his touch and how the butterflies in her stomach would flutter every time he reached out for her. Or, maybe it would be easier to forget the way she would catch him gazing over with a philomathic look in his eyes, as if he couldn’t take enough of her in. She could forget about the late nights, hidden away from everyone else, just the two of them as they fell further back into one another’s arms, getting much too comfortable it seemed. Maybe, though, it would be easiest to start with forgetting all the damage she had done to him. 

To let go of her guilt she would have to let go of all the things that reminded her of the love in their relationships, and to let go of all of the gentle, loving memories she would have to let go of her guilt. 

Holding onto the pieces that were good only caused her to feel a stronger guilt, as if she didn’t have the right to hold on anymore. She knew what it felt like to be broken by someone that you put so much of yourself into, she still remembered when Tom had actually been the one to break her heart. That’s what Emma couldn’t understand about the guilt she had been feeling. Why would she feel any guilt when Tom broke her first, and one would argue that he had with more intention.

Still, y/n felt this endless stinging pain telling her it was all her fault striking her every night since she left for LA. Had she not said the things she did about him this issue would be nonexistent. She felt what she said, though, every bit of it. Tom broke her. He had been the one to leave her feeling like a fool, as if he could ever love someone like her. Tom had given her false hope time and time again that he would give her the love she dreamed of with him. And, despite it all, she had still said that he was the one. The one that she would always end up falling back to. The one that she would always love, over herself it even seemed.

And he had given her the chance to live her dreams with him again. The chance to love him, the chance to let herself become comfortable around him, the chance to fall in love again. And they had fallen in love, Tom seemed to let it stick this time around too. Then she said what she felt about him before. She brought up her feelings of betrayal and distrust, and he took them out of context and ran with the idea that she still pictured him as this monster that simply shattered her heart. But she didn’t explain herself, and how could she? They were all things that she had thought of him before.

But he proved it all to be wrong, and she had said that too. She said that he showed her love in a light she never imagined she would experience first hand, and that he had made her find love in things that she always found easier to cover with shame. He made her a better person, above everything else. Above the pain he had inflicted, he had been much more loving in his ways now. And she took that from him. She reminded him of who he had been, and pointed out pain he never even knew he had caused. She made him second guess himself, just as he had done to her before.

She couldn’t let go of the memories of how he made her feel loved. She had to use them to remind herself that she took that love away from him, that she was finally in the place she always wished to be in with him and she took it away from herself. They were no longer memories of peace and security, they were memories used to inflict pain while reminding herself of what she had done.

It was more than she didn’t want to forget. It was that she couldn’t forget, she would never allow herself to.

So, Emma’s distractions weren’t of use to y/n, it wasn’t what she was looking for. She was looking for all the reasons she could find to aim the blame on herself. She would sit and think of all of their memories together, connecting them with some reason as to why that was just another piece of how she led to breaking his heart.

She wondered, too, if she possibly hurt him more by going to LA. She was curious if he missed her in the way she missed him when her heart was broken by him. Did he stay up late into the nights, wondering when she might call? Waiting for her to return and pick up his broken pieces? 

No, probably not. He wasn’t such a fool as she was. She had shattered his heart, he probably was doing all he could to forget she even existed, something similar to the way that Emma coped. But if he loved her, how would he forget her? The only thing that made y/n come to terms, at the very least, with the pain he caused her was meeting Timothée.

Tim gave her all the tools she needed to mend her heart when Tom had done his damage. He walked into her life at the right time, and he swore to never walk out. He offered her security, comfort. He fixed her broken heart, showed her how to love herself and others again. 

Y/n feared Tom might find someone like Tim, someone to fix his shattered heart. It wouldn’t be bad, not really. In a way, she wished he might find someone like Timothée that could help him after what she had done, but at the same time she wanted him to confide in her. She wanted to offer Tom a solution to fix himself, she now had all the knowledge on how to do it from personal experience, she could share the information with him. 

Instead, she gave him space, plenty of it. She went to LA to leave him be, feeling she had caused more than enough problems. And she had to learn how to love herself again, how to allow herself to feel deserving of it after doing something so cruel. And there Timothée was, offering his advice and care once again.

“Really, if you don’t want to go we can just go to the apartment,” Tim offered, holding the shop door open for her as they exited.

She shook her head, “No, I could use this.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “then off we go.”

He awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets as they made their way to the ice cream stand. Emma had known that y/n didn’t heal in the same way, and that she would rather sit in her feelings for some time, allowing everything to soak in, but Emma saw the way that she had also gotten to a point where she was no longer doing in a way to heal, but she was coming from a place of guilt. Tim saw it too, and he had come to an agreement with Emma that they needed to step in and to do what they could to help her.

No, Emma didn’t heal in the way that y/n did, but Tim would know how to help her. Emma saw the risk in this too, though. She knew that if Tim wasn’t careful he could easily over step, and it was something she worried could happen. She had warned him not to expect anything from y/n, and to not just cause her more pain, but this was a risk she had to take because no one knew y/n in the way that Tim did, not to Emma’s knowledge.

“So, what was that bouquet you were putting together?” Tim spoke, raising a brow out of curiosity. 

“Umm... “ she paused to think. “I’m not completely sure, I’m still learning. I guess I was just putting together what worked, you know?”

He figured there was more to it than that though, she had seemed to be doing a lot of her speaking through flowers for the past few days. “I think I recognized Queen Anne’s lace? Forget-me-nots were in there, they can be…” he paused to think, “remembrance, right?”

“They can, yeah.” Y/n’s lips pressed together as she mumbled, “I think I could use a break from flowers,” she rubbed her palms together, “How’ve you been? I mean, I know we… kind of are living together and all, but… how are you?”

She hadn’t seen much of Tim or Emma, not really. They shared an apartment and passed one another daily but y/n had been so shut off that she couldn’t recall the last conversation she had with either of them. Another thing she would have to scold herself for. Emma and Tim didn’t mind, they took no offense, they knew she needed time, but she couldn’t help but feel guilt for not keeping up with them.

“I, umm…” Tim cleared his throat, “I’m doing good. You know, I think we all really needed LA.” I mean, we haven’t been here long, but I think it’s been good. I’m glad to be spending time with you again.”

She hadn’t thought about it much before, too wrapped up in her worries about Tom, but it had been a long time since she had spent time around Tim. And she had missed it, though she didn’t realize just how much she had. 

Things with Tim were always so simple. He always had the right answers and the perfect words to say. There was this resting guilt she felt with him too, because he was so perfectly kind to her. He offered her all that he could, even now. She couldn’t understand why he was still there, why he would miss spending time with her, she must’ve shattered his heart as well. 

It was beyond that with Tim, really. He had fixed her. He had cared for her when Tom decided he wouldn’t anymore. Tim helped her to become herself again, he introduced her to what a loving relationship meant. He gave her an example of what a boyfriend that only wanted their partner to be happy and well was like when Tom had broken all the expectations she had. And he had loved her, deeply. 

It wasn’t clear to her why she couldn’t love him in the way that he loved her, she wished she had the answer. He was everything she needed, everything that one could ask for, and he had come into her life at just the right time, every single time. So she wasn’t sure why she left him, or why she had declined his proposal, and that frustrated her more. Timothée was the perfect partner, the easy answer. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t be with him.

He deserved better too, at least that’s what y/n believed. He deserved someone that would love him the same way that he would love them. Someone that wasn’t broken, or that hadn’t broken others before. Someone that didn’t depend so heavily on him to fix them only to be given nothing in return. 

Tim didn’t want anything in return from her though, he only ever asked to have her love. And he said that he would wait, that he would give her the time and space to think of what she needed and what she really wanted. That’s how she ended up with Tom again, only to break his heart. It felt so childish to her that she bounced back and forth between the two, and she felt that she was dreadful for dragging the both of them into a time where she felt so indecisive. They both deserved better, though Tim might say Tom deserved much less than she offered him and Tom would say the same about him. 

“You know, I…” Tim began, “I know that you’re going through a lot right now.” Emma wouldn’t want him to bring it up, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I’m sorry about how things went with him, truly.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she raised a hand to stop him. “Really, it’s fine.”

“No, but, I know you,” he smiled weakly. “You’ve been so quiet lately, and you’ve kept yourself in your room. I just…” He stopped walking, resting his hand on her shoulder to stop her too. “It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

She didn’t. It had all been her fault, he was only trying to make it easier for her but she had to acknowledge the truth. Or, her version of the truth. 

“But it is, Tim.” She fiddled with one of her rings, doing what she could to avoid looking at him. 

“No, y/n, it’s not. You didn’t want things to go that way, there was no way you could’ve known.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not my fault,” she muttered. “I mean, I finally was happy with him and then I had to—“

“Go and say how he made you feel?” He sighed, “Y/n, he… you said that he broke you, that…” he glanced, moving his hand back into his pocket. “You told me that he made you question if you were worth loving. He made you question the trust you put into other people, and he made you second guess yourself with everything. And I’m not… I’m not trying to attack him or to argue him versus me,” Emma would disagree. “But you said he broke you, and all you did was say how he made you feel. If he can’t handle that, maybe he never should’ve done it.”

Tim was frustrated too, and not just because she had, for whatever reason, fallen for Tom. It was more than that. He felt that it wasn’t fair that she would blame yourself for such a thing when Tom had truly broken her heart. Tom made her change who she was. She had to learn a new routine, to figure out how to love herself again, to allow herself to let others care for her. To Timothée, Tom was simply now paying the consequences of his actions. Why would anyone ever feel guilt over such a person? 

“But I didn’t have to say those things…” her voice was weak, tired. “I didn’t have to say that he… that he ruined me. I mean, he showed me so much too, you know? He really… he made me feel loved too.”

“When? Before or after he broke your heart?” Tim questioned, “Oh, and was it before the first time he broke your heart, or the second time? I mean, he’s been horrible to you, y/n.” He rolled his eyes, irritated by the idea of forgiving Tom. “And, I mean… I thought you were like childhood enemies, right? He, c’mon, he always picked on you growing up, isn’t that what you said?”

He had. They had known each other all their lives, and for a majority of their time together they had only fought back and forth. And it was always about the smallest of things. He’d tell her the color of her dress looked horrible on her, or that her hair was a complete mess right before she was going for an interview. And she’d do just the same back to him, usually picking at him for his motormouth or inability to mind his business. But it was never ending, just the two eating away at each other nonstop. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I… it’s not my place to say anything about him really. I’m just trying to understand why you’re letting him take more of your time, especially when he couldn’t even be bothered to hear you out about your own feelings. He took what small information made him the victim and he ran with that.” He could feel the frustration rising again. “You wrote out how he made you feel, how he ruined you and turned your life upside down, and he has the nerve to act like he isn’t at fault here?”

Tom hadn’t finished reading everything she had written about him, only the most dreadful of words. Of course he was upset, having only read a portion of it. What Tim couldn’t understand is how Tom felt he had the right to be angry at y/n when he had read how Tom made her feel. Why did he think he could mad when seeing what damage he had caused her? How was that fair? And how was it fair that even after all of that damage, y/n still loved Tom, not that he would know because he had refused to read that far in. 

“Why would he want to keep reading after what I said about him?” She pulled her arms closer against her chest. “If someone told you that you ruined them would you want to hear them out?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. It was easy for him to say that he would hear her out, because that is what he truly felt he would do. But he wasn’t Tom, and Tim was more level headed than most people, always doing what he could to collect all the information possible. 

Tim struggled with the entire situation because he couldn’t see what she saw, and he wanted to avoid the idea that Tom could be forgiven. Why forgive Tom at all when he wasn’t going to even try putting anything into the relationship? He so easily walked away, and once again there Timmy was to help her, not that she had even asked. 

It wasn’t that Tim wanted to always have this fight of who was better, him or Tom, but he failed to see how overlooked his actions were. He offered her support, reassurance. He helped her pick herself up again, and he helped her remember that she was worth love. He only ever wanted her to be happy, and Tom seemed to always have a complete negative effect on her. She always walked away from Tom with tears in her eyes, searching for reasons as to why it was her fault when it wasn’t so simple. Had Tom been able to make her smile, and to make that smile last, Timmy wouldn’t mind so much, because at least then he would know she was happy.

“But why Tom? What has he done for you?” Tim turned his body to face her’s, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s proven that all he does is hurt you, time and time again, and yet you still feel this guilt? I just… why?”

“Because I… I can’t just forget about him. And maybe I should hate him, I know you think I should, but I can’t.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, moving to sit on a bench along the sidewalk. “I know he wasn’t always… kind to me, but I wasn’t to him either. And he did, he did show me this…” her breathing began to calm, “he showed me that I was worth something. He finally opened himself up to me, we finally could let our guards down. And it, for once, at least sometimes, it was like I didn’t have to fight for his attention, like it was just me and him.”

Timmy couldn’t picture Tom ever being capable of making her feel that way, he seemed too obsessed with himself and with this “competition” the pair had going on. He also couldn’t see why y/n would even want or care to have Tom’s attention in such a way, what did it matter when he was always so cruel? It wasn’t for him to understand, that’s what he had to say to himself. And one can’t exactly control their feelings and who they are directed towards, that was something Tim was getting to know too well. 

“I know that Emma thinks I should just forget Tom, and that you wish I could just let him go, but what if it’s just not that easy?” She looked to him, searching for yet another answer she knew she wouldn’t find. 

He stepped beside her, taking a seat too. “It’s not that easy, I know.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, hands folding together as he thought. “I know you don’t need me to point out all the things he did to you, but it…” he chuckled quietly… “it really sucks to watch you be in so much pain over a guy that-“ he stopped himself. “I hate to see you hurting.”

She knew Tim meant well, he only ever wanted what was best for her. She was well aware, too, that Tim didn’t have the full story of her relationship with Tom, it was something she wasn’t even sure she knew the whole story of. 

Her mind had been malicious before, and a part of her knew that it was being overly judgmental in this case, but she refused to let the issue be chalked up to nothing more than cruel intentions from her childhood enemy. She felt at fault this time, as she couldn’t always simply blame Tom. To her, it was that she was now taking accountability for all of the damage she had caused him too. She had faced how he hurt her, and how it was something they both worked past, but now it was about what she had done to him. This was something, she figured, Tim could never understand. 

“I appreciate that you want to be here for me, Emma too, but…” her hand rested on his arm, “I think this isn’t something you can help me come over. I need to work myself through it.”

She could always do with Tim’s advice, but she was getting tired of it when it came to Tom. It was the same thing over and over, about how none of it was her fault and about how Tom was disregarding her completely. Tim didn’t know everything, and he didn’t understand Tom in the way that y/n did. He didn’t have advice to offer that y/n needed, or wanted, to hear in the moment, and that was something he was becoming more and more aware of.

His gazed stayed forward, hand reaching back to rest on top of hers. “Okay, yeah. I get it, you need some more space?”

In a way she did need space, knowing no one really understood what she was going through. No one would see how the blame was on her, no one but Tom maybe. Everyone else wanted to paint Tom as the villain, and why wouldn’t they after everything she had said? No one knew about the butterflies, his philomathic gaze, or even the late nights spent in one another’s arms. No, people had only ever seen them at their worst. 

Yes, she needed space, but she also needed a reminder that she was more than a screw up. More than the girl that walked in, destroyed a person’s life, and walked out. And she was more than that, much much more, but it was easier to convince herself that she was the problem. 

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. 

Tim wasn’t sure what other response he expected to hear, but it was so unsatisfactory to hear her confirm her own confliction. She didn’t want to be alone, but it’s what she felt she deserved. 

“I…” she thought, “I want you to be here, but I need to… I need this to be only my problem.” She pulled her hand away, locking her fingers together. “I don’t want you or Emma to worry about how I’m handling it, I have it under control.”

He didn’t believe that it was true, if anything she seemed to have no control at the moment. He wasn’t going to say that to her, and he thought she really could have a better handle on it than what it seemed. But he was growing tired of fighting her about Tom, about whether he was or wasn’t worth it. 

“Okay, I… if that’s what you need, I’ll do my best to do that for you.” He looked back at her, “I’m here for you, so whatever you need me to do… of course.” 

Tim knew he shouldn’t have said anything from the start, Emma had warned him against it, but to hear y/n tell him that she simply wanted left in her thoughts was a shock for him. A part of him was expecting her to need him, or at least someone, to talk to about it all, but she was asking to be left alone.

Her thoughts had been too complicated for her to explain to others, she wasn’t sure where they had ended and began anymore. It was a constant loop of searching for answers to problems she knew likely only existed in her head.

Even after Rome, after Tom had taken her heart and torn it to shreds, she couldn’t completely blame him. There was always something, even if it was the most minor of details, that she would make connect back to her to explain why she led to the downfall of it all. She knew Tom played a role too, of course, but he wasn’t her number one enemy. He had called her names, mocked her as she did nothing more than exist, and he had allowed her to make herself vulnerable, but she had decided to open herself up to him. 

Y/n wasn’t to completely the one to blame either, and no matter how many times everyone around her would repeat that to her, she couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to. 

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I do appreciate you trying to help.”

And she did appreciate it, it wasn’t a lie. It was nice to know that he still cared, and Emma too, especially when she had been feeling that everyone was currently against her. She didn’t understand why Tim still stayed, after everything she had put him through, but she was happy to always have him. She felt guilt, though, as if she was holding him back.

“Of course. I just want what’s best for you,” he spoke softly. 

What was expected of Timothée in this time where he was forced to watch someone he loved continuously eat away at themselves? He watched as she blamed herself, thinking of every counter argument he could that would prove her innocence, though it wasn’t something that should’ve needed to be proven. He wanted to speak up, to assure her it wasn’t all on her. He wanted to be there for her, and to remind her that she wasn’t to blame. But that wasn’t what she wanted from him, all she wanted was space? She had expected Tim to let her continue blaming beating herself further down, something he did his best to help her work against.

This time around she wasn’t asking for Tim’s help, and had actually asked him to take a step back and give her space. And he would gladly do so, as he had told her, because he didn’t want to upset her or hurt her more than she already had been. He knew that she’d likely just let her feelings fester, she already had been for weeks, but she still had to cope with her feelings in her own way.

He knew she would rather sit in her room, hugging her stuffed frog and listening to music full blast as she cried through all of her pain, but she wasn’t even doing that at the time, she just sat in silence as she judged herself over and over. And he had been wondering what her could do for her, if not be her shoulder to cry on again. Neither Tim nor Emma had much to offer her at the time, and that was something that Emma could accept more easily. But Emma’s relationship with y/n hadn’t began with her helping y/n learn how to nurture herself again.

She said what she wanted now though, so he didn’t feel so lost. She wanted space, and as shocking as it was to him, he would give that to her. She needed to heal again, and maybe now she had all of the tools to do so, or maybe she just didn’t want assistance. Whatever the reason, Tim had decided to still do his best to show her he was still there, that he would always have a helping hand to offer her.  

“So,” Tim stood again, doing what he could to just let it go, “let’s go get that ice cream?”

Tim could easily deliver on her request, all she needed was space. Y/n had liked how smoothly Tim was able to just move along. He didn’t hang on his emotions or drag things out to but much more dramatic and theatrical than necessary. He was straight to the point, and he had always been more direct when expressing himself. He had been so different than Tom in that way.

She always had to guess Tom’s mood, and she had always questioned what his feelings for her really were. He had talked to her about how he had liked her for years, which she found nearly impossible to believe because of how they had always treated one another. But was suddenly so sincere when telling her how he cared for her, and that was what made her soften herself around him more. 

Y/n also had hidden her feelings for Tom for a long time, and she had began to wonder if they had both hidden for similar reasons. She was always afraid to be vulnerable around him because he would just respond to her with some snarky comment, but she had done just the same back. It was no surprise that they had feared letting the other know how they felt. Timothée could never understand how a relationship could be built on a foundation of fear.

Tom, somehow, was not a villain in this case, which Tim knew, as much as he hated it. Tom had been hurt, truly taken back by the way that y/n had described him in her script, and knowing that it was going to be so public. He deserved to be told how he hurt her, though. He needed to understand the trauma he had put her through, the trauma that Tim had to help her overcome. But Tom was no villain, that was too harsh a title to give to anyone Tim thought.

“Right, the ice cream.” She stood slowly, adding a small smile, “And we can’t forget Emma’s pasta.”

“No, of course we can’t,” he laughed. 

Emma’s pasta hadn’t been ruined by a “Tim and y/n walk” that time, as it turned into something much less enjoyable. It was a needed conversation, but still one they both likely would’ve preferred to avoid.

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Seven

This one is very nice I think you will like it. I call this the “Scott accidentally makes friends” arc.

Scott had just returned from a boring mining trip. Thankfully it wasn’t netherite duty this time. He was looking forward to sitting down after putting everything away when he looked out the window.

Martyn was perched on top of the walls, he seemed to be writing something. Scott’s interest was piqued. It was just after nightfall and cold out. He wondered what the other man was doing as he quietly opened the door of the Renchanting base. It was one in the morning when he checked the clock. There was time to spare.

The world was silent save for a chorus of crickets. It had stormed the night before and a thin blanket of snow preserved the land in tiny crystals. Scott did his best not to crunch the ice beneath his feet as he approached the ladder strung over the high walls.

Looking up, he saw that the sky was clear and brilliantly lit by the stars. A third quarter Moon hung in the air. Obfuscated by the only bank of clouds in the night sky.

He climbed.

As Scott approached the top, he wondered what he was even planning to do. He was going to talk to Martyn, then what. The whole Red Army was still walking on eggshells around him. Of course he didn’t mind. No, he wasn’t supposed to. He was a spy.

That’s what he told himself to sleep better at night.

Yes, ever since he’d started “intermingling” with the Red Army he had grown to admire their friendship. Not between himself and them so much as between each other. It was refreshing. Scott caught himself smiling along with their jokes, tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song was on the radio.

He didn’t dare laugh, or start a conversation, that would be out of line for him. Not yet. Not right now. When tensions were still so high.

Scott poked his head over the top of the wall. Ever so slightly, glancing at the deserted surroundings. He ducked down just enough so that Martyn wouldn’t be immediately aware of his presence. Still contemplating whether or not he was making a good decision.

“You know, if you’re aiming to be sneaky you should really think about investing in a hat,” Martyn’s voice shook Scott from his thoughts.

It also shook him from his perch on the ladder. He jumped in surprise and threw his hands up, conveniently forgetting about the rung he was holding onto.

“Well, this is it,” Scott’s mind said to him, at least his green life track record wasn’t too shabby.

A hand clasped around his wrist, suspending him in air with his feet braced on the ladder.

Scott stared wide eyed up at Martyn, who looked like he was contemplating letting him go. Then he pulled the other back to the ladder and sat back down.

“Uh, thank you,” Scott almost whispered. Pulling himself up onto the wall.

“Well it would be very hard to explain to Timmy,” Martyn replied.

“Jimmy,” Scott corrected, still looking at his feet.

“Timmy,” Martyn said back immediately.

Scott shut up.

“Major?,” Martyn looked over at him. Scott’s head snapped to attention.

“Jesus! Are you possessed?” He asked.

“No. I’m fine,” Scott assured. He didn’t want to admit to himself that the Hand made him nervous.

Martyn laughed at his expense, “calm yourself Major,” he clapped him on the shoulder.

Against his best interest Scott flinched a bit. Trying to laugh off his discomfort.

“What brings you out here in the middle of the night?” Martyn changed the subject.

“I- uh. I saw you up here,” Scott scooted a bit closer, swinging his legs over so that he was facing the same way as the other man. He looked over to see what Martyn was working on.

A book with plain pages was splayed across his lap, the page open was about halfway through the well loved sketchbook. The first half’s papers were crinkled and discolored from use. On the open canvas was a few disconnected sketches of figures that Scott didn’t recognize. Smudges and erase marks scattered the page.

“What’re you drawing?” Scott asked. Aiming to redo the icebreaker.

Martyn held out his art book so the other could see better, “these are just some sketches of people I used to see on TV. That’s Metal Man. I’m certain he wasn’t actually called that; but I can’t remember his real name,” he explained.

Further down the page was “Scarlet Witch,” then there was a drawing of Ren that neither of them mentioned.

Scott pointed to the last drawing, a bust of a superhero-looking man, “that one looks like you,” he observed.

“Mm, maybe a little?” Martyn replied with a bashful inflection.

“Yeah that’s totally you. He even has the little swirly thing on the chest,” Scott said. Martyn made a dismissive gesture.

“Aw come on. Like you never wanted to be a superhero,” he replied quietly.

Scott giggled. He wasn’t making fun of Martyn. It was just funny, a little, to see the Hand of the King up here doodling cartoons.

“I usually come out here to draw the sky. It’s different every night, always pretty,” Martyn flipped the page back to reveal a drawing of the night sky.

It took up two pages, landscape style, entirely pencil. The scenery even included some landmarks like the very top of Big B’s base. Scott noticed that Martyn’s fingers were covered in excess graphite from blending out the stars.

It was beautiful.

“Helps me umwind,” Martyn flipped a few pages forward to a blank spread, “you should try it,” he suggested as he put the sketchbook in the other’s lap.

Scott sat cluelessly. Staring at the page when he was handed a pencil.

“I’m no artist. Not like you are,” he tried to pass the supplies back but the other refused.

“Whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be the sky, it doesn’t have to be anything recognizable,” Martyn encouraged.

Scott nodded. He adjusted his grip on the pencil and positioned it above the page. It stayed there motionless while he thought.

Martyn had grabbed his hand on that ladder. He let him sit next to him while he was completely vulnerable, trying to get away from reality on top of the wall as long as he could. Martyn showed him pieces of his world. The world the way he saw it, the way he chose to preserve it. Remember it.

He shared it without question and now he was telling Scott to do the same. Show him a bit of his reality so he could understand.

This was a leap. Scott knew it, straight out of his comfort zone; and there would be no turning around, but something in the back of his mind screamed that he couldn’t keep hiding from people.

So a line showed up on the paper, followed by another. Scott pulled the image out of his mind and funneled it through the pencil, the foreground and then the background. A landscape that shaped itself across the whole page. There were mountains fading into blue against the skyline, he remembered, a river with a house on one of its banks.

A floating mass of land in the sky with vines hanging from the bottom, and a building on top.

Martyn didn’t say anything. It was like he wasn’t even there. Scott started drawing a figure to occupy the space. Reaching deep into his mind to see their face. Their faces. Soon instead of one person there was two, then three, then four. He drew every attribute and detail that came back to him.

Twelve people. He didn’t want to forget them.

When Scott finished he put the pencil down next to him. So Martyn knew he was done. He held the page up to study what he’d made, looking for anything he may have forgotten.

“That’s pretty cool,” Martyn complimented him.

“Really?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, I like that dude. The one with the wings,” Martyn pointed to where Scott had drawn a man gliding through the air with huge wings, holding onto his striped hat.

“I don’t remember his name,” Scott admitted. Mostly to himself.

“He had a name?” Martyn asked.

“They all did. I can barely remember their faces,” Scott replied, running his fingers over each of the people he’d drawn. An ugly feeling of guilt made a home in his chest.

“It’s a lovely picture,” Martyn said after a few seconds. He took the book from Scott and ripped a chunk of the pages out, “here,” he held them towards Scott. Including the one he’d been drawing on.

Scott was shocked that the other had desiccated his art book so quickly, but took the pages. He may as well.

“Use em’ however you like. I have plenty more,” Martyn instructed. He clapped Scott on the back again.

Scott flashed him a smile, hoping he didn’t look too much like an idiot, “Thank you,” he said.

“I have to go,” Scott jumped quickly back onto the ladder. He made it a few rungs down before pausing and returning to the top.

“Sorry for kicking you in… You know,” he apologized.

Martyn threw his head back in laughter, “thanks Major,” he replied.

“Bye,” Scott responded. He descended the ladder quickly and jogged to the exit of Dogwarts, fumbling with the doors and then trudging down the hill to make way for his flower forest.

“Remember to get a hat!” Echoed from behind him.

Scott turned around momentarily and nodded to Martyn on the wall, then continued into the trees.

[artxyra]

What if Marinette goes to GA and becomes friends with damian and are known as the chaos kids. The school gets used to them. The waynes need Damian one day and when they ask for him the reply is "At (area) doing (weird thing. Example: making pokemon statues out of waffles) with Mari" they get to said area they're gone and the fam has to keep asking people where he is and keep getting crazy replies. When they find him he's arguing with her about whether winnie the pooh's fav color is red or yellow

@coolrascalhoagienerd, well I had a good laugh when I saw this and where is the making of what I thought would have worked. I hope you enjoy. 

When Damian entered the halls of Gotham Academy, the first thing he notice was the change in the usual dark atmosphere. It felt oddly kinder and more lighthearted. Everywhere he turns there are whispers featuring around the new girl that recently join the school.

It’s funny how the two met that very same day. She was running down the halls in a hurry as he was walking to his next class, one that he was particular care for. They bump into each other causing a standstill in the halls. Everyone wondered how the dark prince would react to the princess of sunshine. They expected a yelling match, instead they got the best and worst of alliance ever made. 

Months passed since the blooming of Damian and Marinette’s friendship and not a single student could say that there weren’t surprised. The moment Marinette had Damian under her spell, she was able to make the stoic teen become his age. It started off small with a joke here and there, then it exploded into card games followed by video games. To this day, Damian swears that he’ll beat her at a shooting game at one point to which Marinette would respond with a laugh and an over the shoulder wink. The younger Wayne would swear that he has never blush a day in his life but the photographic proof on Marinette’s phone says otherwise.

The school soon became accustomed to being Daminette’s playground. At first the teachers were opposed to the idea but after seeing how slightly more open Damian has become with the of Sunshine, they slowly agreed to the idea of allowing the dark prince and his sunshine have less strict rules.

Which brings us to this moment, Marinette swings on a swing set while Damian practice his form with a katana. Don’t ask how he manage to get it past security.

“You know, maybe we should do something wild?” Marinette says looking up to the sky with a mischief smirk on her lips.

Damian doesn’t turn to her; he only sets the blade down to his side. “What do you have in mind?”

Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

Let’s just say that whatever Marinette had in mind would rule the yearbooks for years to come.

~~

Damian hiding his characteristic change at home was simple enough. A few death threats here and there, maybe sneaking out moments every so often. No one at the Wayne cared to pay any attention to it. It only came as shock when Damian left for school along the lines of being late. Alfred offered to take me to which Damian declined and got onto his “normal” motorcycle and speeds off.

“Does it seem that Damian is acting strange to you?” Richard “Dick” Grayson asks, pipping his down from the ceiling. He’s on the chandelier again. Poor Alfred, maybe he’ll dust the chandelier for him.

Tim walks in to with large mug in hand, no doubt filled to the brim with coffee. “Which one?” He asks taking a sip, bags are underneath his eyes.

“I do concur with Master Richard; the young master has been acting somewhat strange for quite a moment now” Alfred appears out of nowhere.

It wasn’t long before Jason manage to drag the head of the household from his lair into the mess that was slowly brewing in the main room. Alfred reprimands Jason for the uses of force as he hands Bruce Wayne a cup of coffee.

“Look, I can’t explain much, but we’re going to need Demon Spawn for something huge.” Jason says looking like a madman pulling Bruce by the arm.

“Uh, why would we need Little Bird?” Dick asks dropping onto the floor and twisting his body. “Not that I don’t mind getting Damian involved.”

“Look there’s no time to explain,” Jason facepalms and begins to push everyone towards the door despite the lack of proper wear they have on.

After one clothes change, a large of amount protest, the Wayne household now stands in front of the gates of Gotham Academy.

“Is it me or does this place look less you know Gotham-y and full of life?” Tim asks narrowing his eyes as he takes a long sip of a new cup of coffee that has been transfer into a to-go cup with Red Robin’s emblem.

“No, no, Timmy, I see it too.” Dick whispers as Jason struts past the gates and onto the school’s property.

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Come on, let’s go get your brother so Jason can stop being Jason.”

Tim shrugs before passing the gates himself with Dick following him.

Upon entering the school, they could immediately see that it was either passing period or free time for the students.

Bruce makes his way to the attendance, where Assistant Joyce resides sitting at the desk.

“Hello Joyce, I’m here pick up Damian. He has a, ah, dentist appointment this evening.” Bruce speaks hoping that she wouldn’t catch the lie he spoke of.

“Well Mr. Wayne, Damian is, uh…” Joyce turns to someone besides her. “Do you know where Damian Wayne would be at today?”

“Try the art room.” A feminine voice answers.

Joyce turns back to the Wayne family and smiles, “He should be at the art room, it’s down the hall to your right, you should not miss it. It’s in the only hallway that has a series of artwork posted in it. Before you go, please sign here so that we know to tell the teachers not to mark Damian absent today.”

Joyce hands Bruce a sign out sheet, to which the man signs and ushers his wards to go find his youngest.

“They’re so screwed.” The same feminine voice speaks causing Joyce to break out laughing.

Well, it took a total of four different locations for the men to find the youngest Wayne.

First, they went to the art room like Joyce’s co-worker told them to. They meet with a student that says that basically told them that Damian was playing Pokémon Go near the gym, apparently, he was trying to catch a legendary Pokémon that spawned there.

So, of course, after an awkward eye contact with one another, they walk to the gym. Once again Damian was there, but a different was. He told them that Damian was making ice sculptures out of ice cream at the cafeteria. The student then goes on to explain that Damian had some amazing skills with a knife.

Jason, with wide eyes, practically shouted at the student that he was crazy, and that Damian would never, and he means NEVER do something that stupid. The student just shrugs it off like it was an everyday occurrence. It was Dick that had to hold Jason back from thrashing the teen.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was damn near empty aside from a few students still eating. There were no signs of ice cream or the tools that would go into making a sculpture. Tim had to ask a few students to see if Damian was in here at some point in time. It’s the workers that answers the young CEO by telling him that Damian was here earlier making sculptures out of ice cream before handing it out to students. When asked with the question that has been slowly driving the four insane, the worker replies with “Upstairs racing on these old colorful scooter board down the halls.”

It was at that moment when Tim wanted nothing to but to have a mental break down, and he would have if it wasn’t for Bruce holding him up.

So, they quickly found themselves on the second level of the school. There was no sight of Damian Wayne, though there were wheel tracks smudged into the flooring.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason shouts out into the ceiling. Thankfully, there were no students in the halls to hear it. Well that might have been the case if it wasn’t for a teacher to open their door and shush the male.

“Angel, you are desperately in the wrong here. The bear only wears one color, so it has to the color red.” It was then that they finally hear the voice of the person they have been looking for. Looking over the staircase, they find a hidden cove/nook like area and siting in it is none other than Damian Wayne himself, but he’s not alone.

“I’m telling you, Dami, Pooh’s favorite color is yellow.” The female answers before taping her fingers as makes her point. “He loves honey, which is by default a yellow color.”

“I disagree, Winnie the Pooh has been drawn on numerous of occasions with red items not yellow.” He counters.

This was not happening. Tim’s along with Jason’s exe stopped working and now they were frozen in place. The most deadliest of Wayne’s is arguing about Winnie the motherfucking Pooh’s favorite color. Bruce has no words as Dick pulls out his phone to record the whole ordeal.

Legend has it that Damian never went home that day despite being excused from classes. When he had return home, his family never spoke to him, still in shock at what they just encountered. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that Damian had introduce the family to Marinette and all hell breaks loose. 

[yandere-ac]

I noticed in the recent update that there was a net to keep the MC from swimming too far *cough escaping cough*. It got me thinking about what if the MC- in guise of trying to find more creatures- finds an opening big enough for them to squeeze through and almost escapes. I'm not really sure which villager/character would fit best in this situation though.

Okay so like anon, not to be like that but I would dIE FOR YOU! THIS IDEA IS SO GOOD!!! YOUR MIND! ITS TO POWERFUL ANON! But yeah this was really fun to write and I choose my two favorite bitter ex boys both wanted the same poor representative. You guessed it, it’s out boys!

Yandere Tom Nook X Reader X Yandere Redd

Hole

Sneaking. You were sneaking. It was a beautiful summer day, kids were outside playing, some were out fishing or catching bugs. But where were you? You were sneaking like a teenager trying to get past their overprotective parents. You didn’t want to sneak but you had no choice. Ever since Redd first showed up on the island Tom had been more protective than ever. He didn’t want you to wander off without him, he wouldn’t let you go outside without his permission and sometimes he would want you to sleep in his house. You used to love Tom but nowadays he was just too overbearing for your comfort. You and Tom never really said out loud that you loved each other and you never did any couple-stuff. But both of you knew, you both were in love. Or, that’s how it used to be at least. Any and all feelings for Tom that you had gone right out the door once you lost control of your life.

“Y/N? Where are you going, dear?” Shit. He had found you, he had heard you. And now he was gonna stop you. “I-umm...I was just gonna go outside and search for some sea creatures for blathers” you said, trying and failing to mask the fear and worry in your voice. “Oh? Is that right...hmm...well do you need to do that? I mean, what if you drowned? What if you got attacked by a shark or octopus? Or worse! What if Redd showed up!? You remember what happened last time right? Do you want that to happen again?!” Tom asked you, you knew very much what had occurred between you and Redd, in fact just thinking of it sent shivers down your spine and formed a pit in your stomach. But at the same time, you didn’t want to stay with Tom, you’d be lying if you said that he didn’t scare you at times. Sometimes at night, you’d hear him mumbling things in his sleep, things that made every part of your brain scream to run away and never return, yet your body refused to listen. You worried about his well-being and especially now since he seemed almost obsessed with you. “Tom, listen...I haven’t been out of the house without you for some time now and I was just hoping to have some privacy. You know I’d never wander too far off” you grabbed one of his hands, taking your other hand to gently stroke his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch as he closed his eyes. These were the moments you missed, the tender, loving gestures that you and he would exchange. But now, these moments were just a way of getting you out of his intoxicatingly strong grasp. You didn’t want to stay with Tom, not in the slightest, that Tom whom you once loved died when he started limiting your freedom.

“Mmm...oh well...I guess if you know what you’re doing. Then sure, you can go out for a while yes, yes?” He said, this brought an actual smile to your face as you gave him a hug to which he giggled in reply. “Alright! I’ll see you later Tom!” “Be careful!”

And so, you were off. You ran straight to the shop to buy a wet suit, and then you ran straight to the water to do a cannonball. You laid in the water for about twenty minutes before rising up and swimming around. You didn’t bother trying to climb over the net, you knew it was useless as any major disturbance on the net sent a notification to Tom and inform him of your apparent escape. You learned that the hard way. So instead you just tried to relax for now. Later you might visit some of your residents and maybe go talk to sable, it has been a while since the two of you talked. But for now, you were trying to find sea creatures to give to Blathers. That was until you saw something that made your eyes squint before going completely wide once you realized what it was. It was a hole! A big hole in the net! Big enough for you to fit through without alerting Tom! You could escape! You could finally leave this hell!...but...what would happen to Tom if you left, you worried what he might do to himself or the others if you leave...no...you can’t think like that! The reason Tom is unwell is because of you. The only way he can heal is if you stayed away from him, if you didn’t, his obsession would only get worse.

You swim closer to the edge of the net and Closer to the hole. Looking at it you could indeed conclude that It was big enough for you to fit through. Hastily yet carefully you went through it. Making sure not to touch anything on the way out. If you did, it would be game over. Tom would see that something, you, were trying to get through and he would lose it. That’s what made you afraid. But you just couldn’t care right now, you were done sacrificing your life for other's happiness! It’s your time to be a little selfish. To look out for yourself! Carefully navigating your legs out of the hole your whole body was now out, you were out. You could barely believe it! But you wouldn’t stick around to see if Tom saw it or not. You had a plan. There was an island a bit away from yours, which would normally take about five minutes with a plane so it would maybe take about twenty minutes to swim. If you could hold out and keep out of dangerous water, you could make it. You would either make it or drown. Either way, there was no turning back now.

As you were swimming briskly, you started to rethink your decision a little. I mean, abandoning all your friends? And what would happen with Tom? Would he become unfit to take care of Timmy and Tommy? You didn’t want to consider that scenario, you wanted to believe that he would get help. But it was hard when you had experienced how deep his possession over you had gotten. After about halfway there you realized how far away the other island truly was, your arms got very tired and you had swallowed what felt like a ton of seawater accidentally as you had swum. You’re honestly starting to give up hope of reaching the island in time. You were gonna drown. You were gonna drown. You were never gonna see your friends again, never gonna find a significant other, never get married, settle down, get a pet fish with said significant other. Never gonna- Wait...is that a...boat? A little boat, sailing off in the distance caught your attention. Maybe there was still hope! Maybe there was a chance of survival! You had to do something, anything, you had to get its attention.

“HELLO!!! IM HERE!!! PLEASE HELP ME!!!” You shouted at the boat. And as if on cue, it turned around and went over to you. Yes! You had done it! You were gonna survive- Wait a minute...you recognized that boat...was that...oh god, it was! That was no other than Jolly Redd's boat. He was even worse than Tom! You had no time to think before the boat arrived in front of you. “Well well well...if it isn’t my favorite human! What are you doing all the way out here cousin?” He asked you, his voice full of glee, knowing you would need his help. “Get away from me Redd!” You said you didn’t want anything got to do with him. “Oh really? What was 'please help me' about then? I just wanna help Y/N, I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive about this. Now tell me, why are you all the way out here in the middle of the Ocean?” He asked you. Tilting his head while resting his chin above his hand, huge grin present on his face. “...ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵉˢᶜᵃᵖᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵀᵒᵐ” “huh? A little louder cuz, I couldn’t hear ya?” “I WAS TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM TOM OKAY!!! HE PRETTY MUCH LOCKED ME INSIDE OF HIS HOUSE BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID!” Everything became deathly quiet as you said this. Out of all the answers, Redd had NOT expected that one. After quickly regaining his normal posture, he mustered up another smile on his lips. “Well, do ya need a ride, or would you like to swim for another forty minutes, hm?” Forty minutes? You had grossly underestimated the time that it would take for you to swim. “Get away from me Redd, I don’t want your help after what you did...” you told him, refusing to look at the smug bastard. “Oh Y/N. I don’t think you’ve comprehended this situation...you can either come with me or drown. Now I’d understand if you’d want to drown yourself, I would if I had to spend so much time with Nookie. But ask yourself, is this really the way you’d want to go out? By drowning? That’s lame!” He was right, god damn it! You hated that he was right. You were completely and utterly helpless right now and the only way to get out of this would be to accept his help.

You swallowed all of your pride and looked at him. He still had that shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Alright, you win. I’ll come up on the ship...but as soon as we get to the island, that’ll be all okay!” As you said this, Redd's grin only got wider. He walked away for a few seconds before throwing a ladder down on the side of his boat closest to you. You could practically feel his joy as you climbed up the ladder. Once you were up, Redd immediately came up to you. Holding his hands together as he looked at you like a giddy kid to open up their presents. “Ohohohooo~ trust me Y/N, you won’t regret this!” He giggled as his movements got more jittery, almost as if he’s restraining himself. “Yeah yeah, whatever Redd,” you told him sternly. You didn’t want to be in his presence for any longer than you had to. Stepping in front of you, the fox pulled the curtain to the entrance open for you. You let out a loud sigh as you saw his dumb gesture. “God, shut up Redd,” you said as you walked inside, you knew he was joking. But jokes were supposed to be funny. And you hated him. “Ah come on Y/N you know I’m just yanking your chain here! I know you can fend for yourself! I’m not like good old nookie-“ “stop!” “Stop what?” Redd looked at you in confusion. “Stop trying to make yourself look better by comparing yourself to Tom! You have no right considering you’re the reason he’s like that! I know what your doing Redd! I’m never gonna join you! So quit trying, let’s just get a move on” you said aggressively, only to be met by the deep chuckles of the fox behind you. Blocking the exit. “What are you laughing at!?” You fidgeted with your hands as you backed up slightly. But it was no use since Redd blocked your exit. “Oh, cousin...you haven’t seemed to have gotten what’s happening right now...I don’t CARE If you want to come with me! You’re coming with whether you like it or not! We’re not stopping at some island. You have nowhere else to go, besides into my arms! So why don’t you make this easy for the both of us and just comply would ya?” Oh...oh no...oh god! He was being serious! “Wha...i...”

As soon as he approached you, you bolted off onto the deck. You knew you couldn't get away but you would rather drown than let yourself become some toy to this maniac. But before you could jump off the boat, Redd ran up behind you and hastily scooped you up by your arms. You thrashed and struggled but it was no use. He was so much stronger than you. “Ah Ah ahhh~ you wouldn’t want to do any myths rational now, would you cousin?” He said in a teasing manner. It made you even more irritated than you were scared. And so, you elbowed him right in his face. He instinctively dropped you as you did this but he quickly grabbed your leg and threw you back onto the deck before Anything could happen. There you laid, on the floor with a rage full fox above you. He was still mumbling curse words under his breath as his face still hurt. But he didn’t care, he just grabbed you roughly by the hand as he dragged you inside. You were being pulled to the furniture part of his boat, all while trying to punch, scratch or halt Redd. But nothing worked. Soon it dawned on you where exactly he was taking you. He was taking you to the big iron door at the back of his boat. The one looming door that had a giant padlock on it. “I wanted to do this the easy way Y/N! Trust me, I did! But if you’re gonna act like this then I’ll simply have to do it the hard way!” He yelled as he threw you up against the wall. The impact made you fall down and lose part of your consciousness for a few seconds. While you were trying to regain yourself, Redd opened the padlock with a key. As he turned around he saw what you were trying to do, you were trying to crawl away. You were failing, of course, the meek attempt made him chortle as he now calmed down a little. “Oh Y/N...” he said softly as he picked you up, looking right into your eyes as he continued. “You can’t escape, and no one is coming for you. Better make yourself comfortable because the ride home is long” while he told you this, he walked in the room. It looked like a bedroom. In the middle of it was a mattress, did...did he plan to do this? How long had he planned to kidnap you!? He placed you on the bed and kissed you on your forehead. You tried to protest but only weak movements and a small groan came out. Redd walked to the door but just before he closed it he turned to you, eyes gentle and seemed very genuine. “Sleep well...”

That was a couple of hours ago. Redd was now steering the boat and was whistling to himself in glee. He got you, he finally got you! And he didn’t even have to do anything, you were just served to him on a silver platter. But before he could think of anything else he felt a powerful wave hit the entire ship. It sent him falling down to his knees. Some madman had crashed into them! Walking outside with violent steps Redd was getting ready to curse out whoever had driven into them. “HEY! WHAT'S WRONG WITH-“ he quickly shut up once he saw who was in the boat. In the boat that had driven into his side sat a very angry tanooki. It was Tom, as he looked at Redd the glare he gave sent shivers down Redd's spine. Let’s just say, if looks could kill, Redd would be dead where he stood.

“Redd! Where is Y/N!” Tom asked, well it was more of a demand. “How did...how did you find me” Redd was completely and utterly baffled. He was out in the middle of the ocean, yet Tom had managed to get to him. “Where is Y/N. I know they’re here so quit acting stupid and tell me where they are!” Tom was raising his voice more and more as he got madder and madder. Redd has taken everything from him once, he wasn’t gonna let him take it again. “No chance nookie! Don’t you think there’s a reason they’re out here? Maybe it’s because they hate you! Maybe it’s because they hate that you act like a restrictive psycho! Have you ever thought of that Tom! Huh? Huh?!” Redd was now leaning over the railing of his boat. He was almost face to face with his bitter rival. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP REDD! I HATE YOU! I-“ Tom grabbed ahold of Redd's shoulders and pulled him down, into the water. “HATE YOU!!!!”

You were peacefully sleeping as the now slightly wet tanooki walked up to your tranquil form. He kneeled down and stroked your cheek, as he smiled to himself. Poor Y/N. Such a sweet individual didn’t deserve to be touched by someone as sleazy and dishonest as Redd. Thus he picked you up and walked over to his motorboat. You were going home.

“Helloooo....wakey wakey...Y/N dear? Can you open your eyes?” You could hear a distant voice say but it was very blurry. Lifting your eyelids open felt like lifting iron weights, but as soon as you caught a glimpse of who was next to you your eyes went wide open with fear. “TOM!?” You threw your body away from him. Backing up until your back was up against the wall. “Ah your awake now, good...you’ve been sleeping for quite some time now. I’ll be honest, for a minute there I thought you were dead” he laughed a little to himself as he said this, a laugh which at one point you thought was adorable but now struck terror right into your chest. “Silly me...oh! Now that you’re awake, are the chains too tight? Do you want Me to loosen them for you?” He asked you. What? You had been so preoccupied with the fear that you hadn’t realized that you did indeed have chains and chuckles attached to your wrists. They were very long so you weren’t exactly chained up to the wall, but they were just short enough so you wouldn’t be able to move around too much. This is when you started hyperventilating. Why were you here? Where was Redd? How did Tom find you?!

“Oh! No no shhh, don’t worry, I’m here, I’m here...Redd won’t ever get you...I made sure of that...” what the hell did he mean by that!? “H-how did you find me?” You asked him, voice quivering just like you were. “Oh Y/N, did you think that the net notifications were the only way for me to see if you escaped?” He said as he petted your head. He hadn’t been so certain whether it was necessary to implant that chip in you, he thought that he could trust you enough but it would seem that he really couldn’t. “By the way, thanks for bringing that up. I’m sure by now you’ve figured out your punishment for trying to leave me. Don’t think just because I’m happy I got you back that I’m not angry, that I’m not sad, that I’m not heartbroken that you would ever think to escape from me! I just want you to be safe and this is how you repay me!” His tone got a little angrier towards the end but he quickly gathered himself in front of you. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You hurt me Y/N...but I’m happy you’re alright...and your safety is the only thing that matters right now,” he said as he snuggled up to you. The tanooki was madly in love with you. He wanted you to be with him for the rest of his life. He had tried to do it with you being free. But it had seemed like he couldn’t trust you with that freedom. So, he would have to lock you in, cage you up, keep you with him. Whether you liked it or not. He was gonna be with you. By this point tears had started to well up in your eyes, your whimpers getting stronger once Tom started cooing you, stroking your hair.

“Don’t cry Y/N....I...I love you...”

He said it. He had said it. The three words that you had dreaded him saying. Up until now. You could have just pretended that Tom was just a very protective friend. But now...now? He had admitted to loving you. You couldn’t back out now. You couldn’t keep that level of comfort in that Tom wouldn’t do anything to engage a relationship, but now it was only a question of when he would actually start proposing ideas of dates and stuff. You were doomed. Doomed forever with this possessive, lovesick man. You couldn’t handle it.

You started sobbing. Tears that had threatened to spill started pouring out. The only thing you could do was bury your head in Toms's neck, closing your eyes and hoping this was all just a nightmare. That you would wake up and all of this would’ve just been a dream. But it wouldn’t, this was your life now. And you wished you would have just chosen to drown instead of joining Redd.

[hhomunculus]

5: list as many sp kids as you can in order from fav to least fav

here, I’ll do my top 15 :)

Kenny - Kyle - Butters - Cartman - Stan - Jimmy - Scott M - Token - Craig - Timmy - Ike - Nichole - Clyde - Wendy - Tweek -

8: least favorite adult

I’d have to go with Gerald. I haven’t gotten into the worst of his actions quite yet (currently on s 19), but I’ve heard plenty about them and have witnessed what an arrogant prick he can be already. he’s toxic, and like it isn’t in an over the top comedic way like Butters’ dad for example, or Garrison. nah, Gerald is almost entirely unpleasant and usually leaves a bad taste in my mouth (and I say that to the writers’ credit, not a criticism)

on a less serious level, I kind of can’t stand barbrady lol but just because he’s a little annoying. not a huge fan of sgt yates either, but he’s grown on me

10: dead/one-time characters to bring back

Thomas (le petit tourette), Ms. Ellen, Damien, Bradley (cartman sucks), and Tammy off the top of my head. Ik Satan dies against manbearbig in the near future, so I’d fs want to bring him back too (does cthulu count on this list too?)

12: headcanons for specific characters

Kyle:

- short now, but grows up to be the tallest

- becomes a criminal investigator when he grows up

- bi, falls somewhere on the ace spectrum

- has ocd, or at least has major tendencies

- fav soda is fs ginger ale or something

- has faint scars from when he got electrocuted in imaginationland pt ii (look up electrocution scars for ref)

- tries to keep a healthy sleep cycle, ends up either sleeping 2 hours or 12 hours straight, no in between

Jimmy:

- becomes a super successful comedian ofc

- straight ally, but is on thin ice w the gay jokes /lh

- hangs out w Timmy every weekend. they like visiting Gobbles :)

- still enjoys playing among us

- smells like body spray. not axe, but defo something

18: episode you’d like to see happen

ok, I have SO many ideas for this, but the one I wanna see most? I wanna see Kenny work with the goth kids or something, trying to get rid of his curse, but they accidentally transfer it to another main character. then the rest of the episode is spent trying to keep that person from dying long enough to lift the curse (and failing), till eventually Kenny j ends up w it again

I know that it’s not gonna happen but it think it would make such a good episode plot, maybe even a two parter

24: favorite south park song

oh dude you’re making me choose? 🧎‍♂️ hhh I love literally all of them but I’d say my top 6 in no order are up there, la resistance, what would brian boitano do, jackin it in San Diego, make bullying kill itself, and safe space. I physically can’t narrow it down further

thx for asking @theglibglob !!

[phoenix-manga]

The Real Idols at VDC

Everyone was excited for the VDC, people who work in the media gathered at the purple stage venue to get a shot of two of the most popular models in Twisted Wonderland. The blonde -haired young man known for his beautiful yet professional attitude, Vil Schoenheit, and the black-haired boy with an adorable face that was rising in the ranks, Neige Leblanche.

The VDC was a one in a million for fans of both males, they were waiting to see what they will bring to the stage. The media only focused on those two, leaving the other participants in the shadows.

But maybe that’s a good thing, this way NRC and RSA will get the shock of their lives when certain students from an academy far off in the mountains would come and steal the spotlight from both of them.

A young lady with dark blue hair, tied in side ponytail with a feathered-crown, wearing a red, blue and yellow uniform was walking to the venue for rehearsals alongside another girl with short pinkish hair, she wore a ribbon with a crown on her head and wore a teal and dark green uniform. From around them, she kept hearing people gushing about who was going to win between Neige and Vil. With a frustrated sigh she looks at the colosseum with a look of mild annoyance.

Evonie: NRC and RSA really sure do love hogging the spotlight… I can barely remember the names of the other schools competing!

But I guess that’s just the reality of media… even though our school is a pro at these contests, people didn’t even mention DCA at all…

Allison: You sure are getting pumped up for the championship, aren’t yah Ev? Chill out, it’s not like it’s any different from our usual idol concerts at campus

It was an attempt at cooling down her dark-haired companion but it just made her more determined. As a student who was known for singing and dancing, it was expected for them to be kind of miffed if the people forget their school. But in Evonie’s case, being someone who held a seat as a top idol in DCA might have been a good reason.

The two reach the venue and shows a staff their stage pass, Allison can faintly hear the music from the person currently rehearsing. Everyone backstage was busy hyping themselves up for the competition, the sight alone sparks the Evonie’s competitive spirit.

She’ll make sure that the audience will know who the stage truly belongs to. When the person’s performance ended, a staff called their school, signaling that it was their turn to go on stage. Allison follows Evonie as they go towards the open stage onto an eager crowd.

Announcer: Next performer from Diamond Crown Academy, please enter the stage

Student A: Diamond Crown Academy?... That’s the all-girls school, right?

Student B: I know that school! That school is famous for the idol competitions on and off campus!

Student C: My sister was obsessed with one of the students of that school!

Student D: How could you not know DCA? They had a joint school festival for RSA and NRC! I was there!

The crowd was filled with murmurs and eventually they reached the ears of the NRC team. The first years held confused looks while their seniors were used to the murmuring around them, as if it was normal. From the looks of it, they seem to recognize one of the girls, Vil and Rook that is. Epel piped up and asked Rook what was the fuss all about.

Rook: DCA is an all-girls academy, although not as famous as RSA and NRC, they have an excellent reputation. The one thing that they’re famous for is their idol competitions… and it looks like we will be able to witness a spectacular show

I especially can’t wait to see how princess de pommes and lapin fougueux perform~ Her gaze carries an eternal fire, beaute!

Deuce: I haven’t heard of DCA… this is my first time hearing about them

Jamil: You freshmen only know about NRC and RSA… of course you wouldn’t know about that school…

Kalim: We know someone from that school! She’s a prin-

Jamil: You’re gonna start babbling, so shut it…

Ace: Are they really that good? Seems too good to be true, no one has said anything about DCA until now

Vil: Such uncultured potatoes, you don’t understand the standards of that academy… A variety of educational fields as well as the idol training is the hot topic amongst the girls back in Pyroxene. Although we are focused on taking down RSA’s representative, don’t underestimate them either

And the reason why we haven’t heard anything is because the audience was too busy talking about the battle between NRC and RSA, but there have been mentions of DCA in magicam.

Ace: I-Is that so?...

Rook: You’ll understand once you find out for yourself!

Vil isn’t one to give empty praises, they now know that DCA is something to consider. The first years decided to look to the stage, they will see what Vil meant when the students of DCA don’t joke around when it comes to contests like the VDC.

Announcer: Representative of Diamond Crown Academy will be performing an original song… Eternally Flickering Flame, please begin rehearsal!

The music started off with a loud blast of rock followed by a gothic symphony that captured everyone’s attention, Evonie sings the first lyrics with a loud yet harmonic tune, her movements are graceful with a hint of aggression.

When it was Allison’s turn to sing, she sang with so much energy and her dance, although not as graceful, was very cheerful and all over the place that made some of the people watching tap to the rhythm.

At the two of them were synchronized in their dance and their voices, although were a contrast, created a pleasing harmony. The first years were watching with wide-eyes, no wonder Vil said that they were not to be underestimated. They thought back to their strict training during the past weeks and they wondered how hard these girls trained to be able to give this performance.

It was already hard to sing and dance, but putting magic into the mix? That’s a new level of intensity.

Epel: I… can’t look away!

Deuce: They’re casting magic?! Usually, its at the end of the performance, but here they’re using it throughout the song!

Rook: You are yet to see the main event, mon ami~

At the climax of the song, Evonie and Allison’s rings glowed red and light blue as an orb of light went up the sky and a burst of magic created an illusion of a gloomy forest with black rabbits and flying bats around a silhouette of a crescent moon.

When a chime of a clock was heard, the illusion shatters the moon and it dissolves into the scenery to turn the dark colors of the forest into a red background of crystals and gemstones with black thorns growing from the ground.

They finish the song with a pose with the illusion around them creating an outstanding finish.

The crowd didn’t expect the use of magic to create effects, but it was mesmerizing to look at, all eyes were on them, faces in awe and mouths agape. When their performance ended and the illusion faded, a loud applause fills the venue as students cheered.

TV Staff: That performance gave me goosebumps!

Audience: Seems like DCA is going all out today, huh?

I thought the other performances were good but damn, DCA goes all out!

They’d win for sure!

Neige and Vil will be performing too, but I can’t help but admire DCA’s performance!

Evonie felt proud for some of the comments she hears as her and Allison exit the stage. As soon as every participant was done with rehearsals, the two decided to head to the food booth for a light snack before the performance. Evonie was quietly assessing the choices and thinking deeply on which would be better to eat and won’t make her feel like throwing up when she performs, while Allison was chewing on a chocolate bar.

Evonie was unaware of a small presence behind her until something grabbed her hand, she was startled by the sudden touch and looked to her side only to see one of the dwarves from the rehearsals. “Toby” was what his name was, looking at her with his goofy grin and asymmetric, purple hair.

Toby: Miss Evonie! Timmy is a huge fan of yours, and so am I! The flashy magic you put on stage was super cool!”

Timmy: T-Toby! Don’t rush at her like th-that! And why’d you have to tell her that I’m a fan?! So, embarrassing!!!!

Evonie was frozen, not in fear but in restraint. The dwarves were so cute and she was tempted to pick them up and hold them close to her like a plush. But that would be rude because they’re college students and they are NOT children even if they look like one. Allison was snickering and greeted the dwarves too.

Allison: Aww, Ev, you got a fan!

Evonie: I-I… uhh!

Toby still held her hand and was looking up at her with his doe eyes, it took almost all of her self-restraint to act professional with the dwarf.

Evonie: I-it’s an honor that you like my performances, I am thankful!

Toby: I’ve seen you in that one play about the six queens too! You looked so pretty! Do you wanna come with us to see our other friends? Dominic and the others saw your work too, oh but Gran is not into idols that much…

Timmy: T-Toby! We shouldn’t impose on her and besides, w-we need to stick together! M-Miss Evonie, it was nice meeting you but we need to leave!

Timmy grabs ahold of Toby who was pouting along the way as the two scampered off into the crowd, leaving Evonie behind. Evonie takes a deep breath while Allison looks at the crowd before facing her.

Allison: I don’t see any of my fans… boohoo, quit stealing all my potential fan members!

Evonie: If you had been taking the time to actually participate in SOME venues then you might have had one…

Allison: It isn’t my fault most of the performances they want is girly!

While they were bickering, they don’t notice a grim fight against an overblotted dorm leader was taking place in the colosseum.

[END]

[considermewhelmed]

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths- Tim Drake

TW: attempted su*c*de/su*c*dal thoughts, anxiety, depression. 

a/n: hey remember in the Master when I said these would be short fics? Ha. Yeah. Me too. Good times. 

Tag list: @river9noble

Master

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down/Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?/You’re scaring us and all of us/Some of us love you/Achilles it’s not much but there’s proof.” 

“You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It’s all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste yourself on this roof/Hear those bells ring deep in the soul/Chiming away for a moment/Feel your breath course frankly below/And see life as a worthy opponent.” 

Tim stood on the edge of the building, overlooking the city. His cape billowed lightly in the cool air, and he took a deep breath. 

‘Red Robin, report.’ Barbra’s voice asked in his ear. 

Tim remained silent, his eyes scanning the streets, but his mind far away. 

‘Red Robin, report.’ She repeated. 

‘Red Robin, are you okay?’ 

A new voice broke onto the comms. 

Dick.

He had been thinking a lot. About Dick. And Damian. Bruce. Steph. Babs. Duke. Luke. Cass. Kate even. There were just… so many of them. So many. One less surely wouldn’t matter? 

He imagined he wouldn’t get a huge memorial like the one for Jason in the batcave- he was choosing this, he did it himself, there was no honour in that. He didn’t mind though, he wasn’t sure he even cared to be remembered. 

They barely remembered him alive, why would death help? 

He wondered how long it would take them to forget him. The voice is the first thing you forget about a person, when was the last time he talked to them all? 

‘Red Robin, where are you?’ Dick.

‘Is his comm offline?’ Steph. 

‘No, it’s online. It should be working. Receiver and all.’ Barbra. 

‘Red Robin?’ Dick. 

He looked down. He’d survived some pretty unlikely things, but this was too much. Too high. There was no way his heart could take his fall, let alone the pavement below waiting for his body. It called his name, whispering the promises of sweet relief with every breeze, the streetlight spotlight marking his entrance to his final bow. 

‘Can you get his tracker online?’ Dick. 

‘Red Robin, come in.’ Bruce. 

‘No. He’s bypassed the security.’ Barbra. 

‘Really Drake?’ Damian. ‘Sneaking off during patrol?’ 

‘Red Robin, report.’ Bruce- and Tim imagined he sounded worried in the way only Batman could be. 

‘Where was his route?’ Dick. 

Tim tuned them out, but couldn’t bring himself to turn the comms off completely. He didn’t have the heart to be alone- he was selfish and desperate. 

He shrugged off the cape, letting it fall to the rooftop, and quietly unclipped his utility belt. He wished he felt scared, or sad, or anything, but instead he just felt numb. Human instinct should be trying to get him back safely to the solid roof behind him, but instead he just swayed in the wind, as if even his own body was impartial to the decision. 

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, rolling his shoulders back, resigning to his fate. There was no use in fighting anymore. 

That was it. He felt something. Tired. 

Not just tired. Exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that made even sleeping a chore. Tears gathered in his eyes, and with each drop his mask got looser and looser. He thought of something to say- some sort of goodbye. Not for them, but for him, for closure. His own eulogy. Last words, maybe? 

Did he deserve last words when the villain he lost to was his own mind? Internal, eternal, and inevitable? It was a dance he’d been a part of for far too long and he was just tired. 

“Hey Replacement.” 

Tim expected his whole body to go rigid, for his instinct to take over, for any kind of fight to bubble up inside him, itching to get out. He and Jason reconciled, sure, but sometimes when he caught him off guard, Tim still had the same knee-jerk reaction. 

Instead, his body just stood there, open and unarmed. It solidified his resolve- even his instincts knew it was over. The idea that Jason could easily shoot him, or push him off the roof didn’t scare him. 

Why would it? 

He could hear Jason’s quiet, heavy steps as the older boy approached. 

‘Red Hood, status, have you found him?’ 

Dick’s voice came over the comms. 

Tim didn’t look at Jason. There was a soft click. 

“No, not yet. I’ll keep looking. Just cover my area Dickhead.” Jason said before the soft click happened again. 

The two boys were quiet for a minute. 

Behind him, Tim could hear the familiar whirring of the mechanics- mechanics he helped design -that indicated the removal of Jason’s Red Hood helmet. A thump after indicated Jason had opted to ditch it on the roof. 

Normally, Tim would yell at him for being so careless with his equipment, especially since Tim worked hard on the last updates, but he couldn’t even find his voice. 

He heard the clatter of weapons hitting the ground, and Jason stepped closer. 

“Come on Timmy,” Jason said softly, and Tim’s chest tightened at the nickname. “You’re shaking. You gotta be freezing.” 

It wasn’t until Jason said something that Tim realized he was vibrating. Even the air was unforgiving in Gotham, and somewhere between his decision to step on the ledge and the loss of his cape, it turned into an icy grip that cut through the thin material of his suit. 

The wind stung his face where the tears had started to slip beneath his mask. His knees buckled and he sucked in a sharp breath of air. 

“I can’t.” He choked out, his hand gripping at his chest. “I- I can’t move.” 

‘Red Robin?’ Dick’s voice cut through the comms. ‘Come on buddy, where are you, I’ll come get you.’ 

Tim couldn’t hear him over the roar of his own blood in his ears, and took his comm out of his ear, throwing it off to the side. 

It was then he caught sight of Jason, and was shocked by the lack of not only helmet, but mask as well. Jason’s eyes had a green shine to them- a side effect of the pit -and they were trained on Tim. 

Jason held out his hand to Tim. “Take my hand baby bird.” He murmured. 

“No,” Tim cried. “I want- I should- I have to- I’m going to fall Jason-” 

“No.” Jason said sternly. “No you won’t.” 

Tim inched closer to the ledge. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters dipshit, you matter. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” 

Tim’s lip trembled and a sob tore from his throat as his knees gave out from under him and for a split second he was falling- 

And the next he was wrapped in a tight hug. 

Tim reached out instinctually and grabbed onto whatever he could hold, staying as close as possible to the smell of leather, gun polish and sweat, a surprisingly comforting combination. 

Maybe it was just because it meant safety. 

“I’ve got you baby bird,” Jason mumbled, and he could feel Jason bury his nose in Tim’s hair. “I’ve got you.” 

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered through his tears. “I’m sorry, Jay, I’m sorry,” A whole new breakdown washed over him, and he couldn’t get a grip on his emotions. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jason scolded him lightly, and rubbed little circles on his back. “I’ve got you.” 

“I was going to do it,” Tim cried. 

“I know.” Jason whispered. 

“They hate me. They’re going to hate me more!” Tim whimpered. “I can’t- I don’t want-” 

“I know.” Jason repeated. “But no one hates you, Tim,” He promised. “Hell, even Barbra threatened to get out here to find you.” 

Tim buried his face in Jason’s chest and just stayed there. “I’m nothing more than a placeholder,” He mumbled. “I’m a pretender. A replacement.” He sniffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t even want to be Robin. God. I wanted Dick to be Robin. Batman needs Robin.” He was close to hysterics, and god Jason still didn’t know what to do. 

“Maybe,” Jason agreed. “But Bruce Wayne needs Tim Drake.” Jason said quietly. “I’m pretty sure the old man would be lost without you Timmy.” 

Tim shook his head and Jason snorted. “You set up the system in the batcave, make sure the Wayne business is intact and running smoothly, you’ve updated all the security, you always make sure there’s coffee in the manor, and no one makes him smile with bad jokes like you do.” 

Tim stayed quiet, and Jason alternated between rubbing his back and running his hand through Tim’s hair. The boys stood there for as long as Tim needed to and Jason realized how small Tim was because Jesus Christ this was just a kid in a costume and he just wanted to be loved. 

“Can we go back to the Manor?” Jason murmured. “My bike’s not far.” 

Tim didn’t move. 

“We can watch a movie?” He suggested. “I’ll let you pick.” 

“Why are you being so nice?” Tim mumbled. 

“Well… I could punch you instead if you’d like. Not sure that’ll make you feel better though.” He offered, and was rewarded by the smallest, quietest laugh. “C’mon, we can raid the kitchen.” 

“You aren’t going to make me talk?” Tim asked. 

Jason shook his head, tightening his grip on him. “I’m not going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to baby bird.” He said softly. “But if you want to do that, I’m here for that too.” 

Tim tightened his own grip and kept close- Jason was keeping him grounded and that’s all that mattered. “What was it like?” He whispered. 

Jason was quiet for a long moment, and Tim regretted asking almost immediately. 

“Long.” Jason decided. “Dark. Quiet.” 

“Good quiet?” 

“No.” Jason said softly. “Too quiet.” 

“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered. 

“Me too,” Jason mumbled. “You’re not alone Timbo. I’m right here, alright?” 

Tim nodded and pulled away after a moment when he felt like he could stand on his own. Jason collected their things and handed Tim his mask, cape and belt, putting his own mask and helmet back on, clipping his holsters on. 

The ride back was quiet- Tim’s comm must have busted when it hit the roof, and if Jason heard anything he wasn’t giving it away. Jason came up with some half-assed lie about what happened to Barbra and the other Bats over the comms, and immediately claimed the living room for him and Tim, heading upstairs. 

Tim was asleep by the end of the opening credits, tucked safely into the side of his big brother. 

Maybe Tim couldn’t fight the villain in his head on his own, but having someone like Jason Todd on your side certainly made it easier.

[imhereformr]

23 or 41 for Bloom and Sky? Sorry I know you hate Sky but I can't help but love them for nostalgic reasons and I really enjoy the way you write them 💛

Thanks! It's nice to know I write them well despite my dislike of Sky. ☺️🧡

41: overhearing they have feelings for you.

Note: this story is canon divergent and the Sky/Brandon switch never happened. Set in early S1.

Bloom wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to accompany Stella to Red Fountain anymore. Maybe it was that she’d never seen the inside of the military fortress, or any really, and she wondered what it looked like. Or maybe, and much more likely, part of her had hoped she’d see Sky and that he’d pull her into some swooping, romantic kiss and confess his undying love for her. Not that that would ever happen since she was pretty sure Sky saw her in the same way he saw Brandon. Besides, Crown Prince Sky of Eraklyon would never be interested in plain ol’ Bloom the Earth girl. 

“They’re up on the fifth floor” Stella informed her as the blonde turned up the hall that led to a large staircase. Stella had decided to surprise Brandon since she knew he had a free afternoon for once. The couple had been officially dating since the Trix had tricked Stella into thinking he was asking her out only for them to kidnap her. Brandon had been so concerned that he’d called and texted Stella incessantly until he got an answer. They’d gone on their real first date the day after. Stella had joked that maybe Bloom should get fake kidnapped to see how Sky would react, but Bloom thought that was a bit much.  

From the top of the stairs, Bloom followed Stella through several twisty hallways until they’d come to a solid wood door – painted, unsurprisingly, in cream – that had the number 527 and four names listed on it:. Sky, Brandon, Riven, Timmy. Stella lifted her hand to knock, but the door opened before she could. In front of them stood a surprised Timmy, books overflowing in his hands and his cape half attached. “Hi” he breathed, not having been expecting to find anyone on the other side of the door.

“Hi Timmy.” “Is Brandon here?”

“Uh, yeah. He and Sky are in their room.” Timmy adjusted his glasses and moved to let the girls in, excusing himself as he shut the door behind him.

The common room was plain, like Red Fountain put no effort into letting the boys show their personality. A simple black couch sat facing a TV with a wood coffee table between the two. The only thing that showed the people who lived in the space existed was the books and magazines littering the coffee table, a sweater on the couch, and the video game console with a stack about half Bloom’s height beside the TV.

“Shit, I have to pee” Stella whispered, telling Bloom she’d be right back and then they could surprise the boys. Bloom had to wonder just how little Stella had planned this. She had no idea if Brandon would be in his room, just that he wouldn’t be in class, and hadn’t thought of going to pee even though Bloom had made her stop at one of the guest washrooms on the first floor before they’d headed up.

While she waited for Stella, Bloom wandered around the space. She flipped through one of the magazines on the coffee table, not paying much attention to anything on the pages. There were two doors besides the one Stella had gone into. One was Timmy and Riven’s room, the other Sky and Brandon’s. Bloom wondered which was which, receiving her answer when she heard something fall behind one of the doors. She jolted up, stopping short of the door. Behind it, she heard Brandon laughing.

“Why did you do that?” Sky questioned.

“Because you’re being an idiot.”

“How am I being an idiot?” Sky sounded offended, but Brandon just laughed again. Bloom leaned against the door to hear better, praying the creaking of the floor as it shifted under her weight wouldn’t give her away.

“Just go to Alfea – right now – and tell her. I’m confident you’ll get the reaction you want.”

“And how do I do that? Just walk up to her and say Bloom, I’ve got a huge crush on you and I’d really like you to be my girlfriend? That wouldn’t work. She’d ne-”

Bloom had no idea what force took over her body, just that she’d heard her name followed by the words crush on you and acted. She opened the door abruptly and bolted in. “I have a huge crush on you too” she announced, before what she was doing hit her. Brandon and Sky sat on their respective beds, upright and wide-eyed. As the realisation of what she’d said and done hit her, she saw Brandon smile. Sky, however, remained slack-jawed. “I’m so sorry. I- what the fuck am I doing?”

Bloom shot out of the room, running past a confused Stella who had just exited the bathroom, embarrassment growing in her. It was bad enough she’d admitted her feelings to Sky, but she’d done so by hurtling into his room unannounced. He’d obviously know she’d been listening to the conversation and think she was a complete weirdo.

She didn’t know where she was going, but, somehow, she found the courtyard. Faces passed her, looking confused at the lone fairy running through a boys campus. She was almost at the bus stop where hopefully a bus would arrive soon when she heard her name being called. Her initial thought was that it was Stella, so Bloom stopped and turned back. It was only as she completed her turn that she registered that the voice had been male.

Sky approached her, slowing in the last few steps. He stopped just a foot short of her and took a deep breath, smiling down at her as he exhaled. Bloom could feel her heart about to beat out of her chest. Why was he smiling at her? Was he trying to stop himself from laughing at her? Her heart began to beat much faster as Sky took a step closer to her, followed by another step and another. He cupped her chin and his head bent down to meet hers. What was he -?

Oh.

He was kissing her.

Bloom melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him in closer. His hand slid from her chin to her cheek to caress it, as the other hand wrapped around her waist. His lips were soft and sweet, and the kiss the perfect combination of passionate and gentle. A fire erupted in her stomach, warming her entire body. How was it possible for one kiss to affect her this much?

A shy smile danced on her lips as Sky pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. He returned her smile and Bloom swore she saw the stars. He had such a beautiful smile, and this one was all for her. “Please tell me you were serious” he whispered, the warmth of his breath hitting her face and reminding her of the warmth in her body when he’d kissed her.

“Yes?” She laughed, wondering why he even had to ask. What kind of jerk would burst into somebody’s room to lie to them? Besides, she’d returned his kiss, hadn’t she?

“And the second bit?” Bloom tilted her head, not quite understanding what he was referring to. “About being my girlfriend” he clarified.

“I’d like that.”

“Oh, good. I’d like that too.” Bloom laughed as she pulled him in for another kiss, relishing in the warmth that spread through her once again as their lips met.

[haberdashing]

Wherefore Art Thou...?

Jon and Martin learn that in this universe, their counterparts have unsettlingly familiar names.

on AO3

Jon and Martin had traveled to a few different universes by now, all through more or less the same process as their first foray into the multiverse. Martin was still doing his best to believe that one of these worlds could be saved, that they weren’t doomed to spread fear and doom across the multiverse everywhere they went. Jon... wasn’t quite so optimistic.

It wasn’t a huge surprise to come across a pair that looked to be themselves, not this time, not when it’d happened before. (Jon was privately glad that his argument that the two of them would have grown together regardless of being united by supernatural trauma was being borne out by the evidence, though he tried not to rub it in Martin’s face too much.)

They were in a café this time, Martin’s double munching on a scone while Jon’s double nursed a drink in a white mug, the two of them facing each other in an outside table. Jon and Martin were just passing through, or meant to be anyway, but the two locked eyes and nodded to one another before approaching their counterparts.

“Can we speak to the two of you for a moment?”

The two looked up, Jon’s counterpart glowering at them before Martin’s said, “I don’t see why not, though if you’re selling something, I’m afraid we’re both flat broke.”

Martin let out a small laugh at that, though it was hard to tell whether it was a lie, exactly, though their eating in a café probably showed that they had at least a little money to spend, more than Jon and Martin could really say for themselves. (Really, if they were going to be spending their lives trying to save the world, would getting subsidized along the way really be too much to ask?)

“No, we’re not selling anything, we just want to have a friendly conversation.”

Jon’s counterpart snorted at that, but Jon pushed ahead as if he hadn’t heard it.

“You’ve probably noticed that the two of us look an awful lot like the two of you, and that’s not just some strange coincidence. Our names are Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood, and while you may have chosen different ones, they’re likely similar enough that you can at least recognize the connections to be made there.”

Jon and Martin’s counterparts exchanged a meaningful glance, and while Jon couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind it, he recognized the gesture just the same.

“What are you saying?” Jon’s double finally asked. “Is this- time travel, or, or some sort of multiverse thing, or-”

Martin spoke up before Jon could. “’Some sort of multiverse thing’ about sums it up, I think.”

“More specifically, we’re you from another dimension, here to help prevent what happened to our world from happening to yours.” Glossing over, of course, that it’d been their own actions that put this world in peril in the first place; Jon and Martin had discussed that matter enough already, and they really didn’t need to bring strangers into that argument, even strangers who were versions of themselves. “And we’ve learned that some of our best allies along the way tend to be, well, ourselves.”

“I see.” Jon’s counterpart looked him over for a long moment before adding, “Well, you’re certainly right about one thing. We didn’t choose the same names you two did, if your story is to be believed.”

“Oh?” Jon couldn’t help his curiosity; it was always interesting to find out what he might have been called if things had gone differently, what logic his other selves used to pick the names they did. “What name did you go with, then?”

“My first name is Timothy, Timothy Sims. Tim to my friends, though I don’t think you count, certainly not this quickly...”

For a moment Jon saw another face, another man speaking in a voice that was not his own but that he knew well enough just the same.

...I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.

“I, er, I... never considered that one myself.”

“Fair enough. It’s got some things in common with Jonathan, though, doesn’t it? Not too uncommon or faddish, has the nickname built right in--I’m guessing you go by Jon sometimes, just like I go by Tim?”

“...r-right. Yes. Yes, I do.”

Martin’s counterpart looked at Jon for a moment before speaking up. “The name means something to you, doesn’t it? Somebody you know, perhaps?” Jon’s expression must have given something away, because Martin’s double hastily added, “Or, or knew, past tense?”

“...past tense, yes.”

Jon looked over at Martin, but Martin just shook his head and said under his breath, “You knew him better than I did, I think.”

“He was... was a friend of mine, for a while. My best friend, really, at the time. But then there were some... difficult circumstances, we both made some mistakes along the way, I think he hated me by the end... and then he sacrificed himself. For the greater good, but also... I think he knew it would happen. But, well, it wasn’t my decision to make, at any rate.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Jon tried to force himself into a smile, with little success. “Don’t be. You couldn’t have known, and it’s... it’s an old wound at this point, I suppose.”

“This friend of yours...” Timothy drummed his fingers against his leg as he spoke. “Did he go by Timothy, or Tim, or both?”

“Tim. He was... he always went by Tim.”

Timothy nodded. “Just call me Timothy then. That might help distinguish us. Just so long as you’re not calling me Timmy, it’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, only I have Timmy privileges.” Martin’s counterpart had a goofy grin on his face, clearly referencing some sort of inside joke that Jon and Martin weren’t privy to.

“Not if you keep abusing them like that, you don’t. Seriously, Jonah, we’ve discussed this-”

The two kept speaking, but Jon couldn’t hear it, his mind filling with other words, words that both were and were not his own, words that had doomed one reality and led to the downfall of so many others.

Jon’s hand flew to cover his mouth reflexively, and Jon gritted his teeth, keeping his mouth closed as tight as he could as the words washed over him once more-

“Jon?”

Martin’s hand was on Jon’s shoulder now, and Jon focused on that point of contact for a moment, how Martin’s skin was cool and soft, how his hand was circling the area slowly.

“Jon, it’s alright. It’s just a name. It’s not him.”

Jon breathed in and out slowly and let the world around him seep back in; Timothy was staring at him quizzically, while... Martin’s counterpart’s brows were furrowed.

“My name rings a bell too, huh?” Martin nodded, and his counterpart continued with a laugh, “And here I thought the worst reaction I’d get from it was when somebody said my name sounded like a Victorian orphan...”

“...I don’t believe he was an orphan.” Jon’s voice sounded shaky and distant even to himself.

“Who was he, then?” Timothy asked.

“He was the reason our world got thrown into an apocalypse where everybody was stuck living out their worst fears over and over again.” The words came quickly, and without hesitation; though Jon still blamed himself for some things, still stayed up some nights wondering how things could have been different if only he had known better at the time, Martin’s reassurances had helped him place the blame for that particular outcome where it properly belonged.

“And he put Jon through hell several times over leading up to that.” Martin added.

“Jesus.” Jonah said. (Jon tried not to wince as he thought of the name, tried not to be pained by the connection between the man he loved more than everything and the man he hated just as strongly.)

“We could, uh-” Martin bit his lip as he concentrated on his next words. “Did you change your last name, perhaps? Because we could call you that-”

He shook his head. “Thought about it, but I wasn’t sure how Mum’d react to me swapping out surnames. It took long enough for her to call me Jonah, after all. Though I suppose the surname Blackwood doesn’t exactly help with the whole Victorian orphan theme there, heh...”

“Right, sure, I went through the same dilemma myself. So, er...”

Jon butted in. “Mister Blackwood, do you by any chance have a middle name?”

Jon could see Jonah’s face darken with color, could imagine the gears turning in his head as he figured out the best way to phrase his response, and despite everything, Jon let out a soft, shaky laugh at the sight.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Party Favors

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki comes to the rescue when your nephews’ birthday party is on the brink of disaster. Warnings: some curse words and implied smut; fluff

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“No! Don’t run there. It’s slippery.”

“Hang on, the bathroom’s right inside.”

“There’s going to be cake later, and you don’t want to get a tummy ache.”

Gosh, kids were tiring. You’d promised your sister, Katie, that you’d help out at your nephews’ birthday party. It was a sticky summer afternoon, but the heat did nothing to slow down the thirty-something kids running around the backyard. Between neighbors, classmates, and camp friends, the birthday boys had quite the guest list. Your sister and brother-in-law were both chaperoning the party, along with some other parents, but you were still outnumbered. Even if you weren’t, kids in large groups seem to have a penchant for trouble. It sure didn’t help that they were all at the age where chaos seemed like average fun.

Spotting the twins, you decided to take a few photos for your sister, who was busy running around to make sure everything was running smoothly. “Hey, Timmy. Hey, Tommy. How’re my favorite nephews today?” you said after snapping a few shots.

“But Auntie (y/n),” Timmy started, “we’re your only nephews.”

“Yeah, and we’re eight now,” Tommy continued for his brother. “You can’t trick us anymore.”

“We’re big boys now,” they finished together.

“I guess you are,” you replied, laughing. “Not too big for the bouncy house, I hope.”

“Of course not, Auntie. Bye!” they shouted, running towards the inflatable castle.

You walked over to the boys’ father, Lucas, and helped him check all the Slip 'N Slides and water balloon supplies. Just when you thought you might get through the day without any disasters, your sister came running up to you and Lucas.

“The clown just cancelled. There was a huge traffic jam and he can’t make it in time,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“That’s all right,” Lucas said. “I’ve been saving some grade-A dad jokes for a situation like this.”

Both you and Katie groaned, eliciting a hurt scoff from her husband. And then a genius idea hit you.  

“Wait a minute, guys. I literally work with superheroes.”

A few years ago, you’d scored a position at Stark Industries and, though you’d never worked in the field, often helped the team from the lab. You’d even played a large role in designing Tony’s latest suit.

“Could you really get one of them to come? I mean, aren’t they busy?” your sister asked.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure that they were free, but they definitely owed you a favor. You’d saved their butts more times than you could count. It was, at very least, worth a try. You found the quietest place you could, then called Tony. Then Thor. Then Steve. Then Nat. None of them picked up. In a desperate last attempt, you phoned the Tower hoping someone would pick up. F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered and confirmed the presence of one Avenger in the Tower. You immediately asked her to put them on, not bothering to check who it was.

“Hi. I have an urgent matter and need to call in a favor.”

“And since when do I owe you one?” a smooth baritone came from the other end of the line.

Shit, you thought, of all the people in the Tower it had to be him. You and Loki got along well enough, but you weren’t friends, per se. The two of you constantly kept up a witty banter that was often flirtatious. The others teased you about it, and you were sure they placed bets on which one of you would ask the other out first. That, of course, was stupid, as Loki obviously did not feel that way about you. And how you felt? Well, it was best not to dwell on it.

“Oh, hi Loki. Sorry, you weren’t who I was expecting. Where’s everyone else?”

“Out at the movies. They should be back in half an hour, if your urgent matter can wait that long.” You let out a frustrated groan, which prompted him to say, “Well, that’s certainly not how I imagined getting that sound out of you.”

You were thankful he wasn’t there to see you blush. You didn’t know if you could wait that long for the rest of the Avengers. That didn’t even include the time it would take for them to actually arrive. You were about to hang up and tell Katie she better try to find a replacement clown or magician when you got your second great idea that afternoon.

“Loki,” you said, “I’m sending you my location. Just come over as fast as you can. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Then you hung up before he could respond. You raced to the front of the house to wait but were nervous that he wouldn’t show. You didn’t have long to worry, though, because he suddenly materialized, making you jump a little. Sometimes you forgot that he could teleport.

“Your savior is here,” he declared, striking a dramatic pose.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. My hero,” you said before explaining the situation to him.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not very popular with the masses, (y/n). I think you’d be better off waiting for one of the others.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he tried to hide the sadness behind those words. Before he could leave, you protested, “Kids may love superheroes, but you know what they love even more? Magicians!”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. “I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion. Besides, I don’t much appreciate being reduced to a mere magician.” He stopped for a second to tap his chin as if deep in thought, before continuing, “But, I suppose if you ask nicely, I might consider it.”

You made your best puppy dog eyes and stuck out your lower lip while giving him a pouty please. He considered you for a moment before responding.

“Very well,” he said. “I will save you this time. Just remember that you owe me. In fact, I’ve already got just the thing in mind.”

The devilish grin he gave you with that last part caused an involuntary shiver to run down your spine. He noticed but decided not to push his luck. Besides, he genuinely found it cute. In fact, he found everything about you cute. However, he refused to acknowledge the way his heart beat faster when you took his hand to lead him into the house. As you were walking, he conjured a classic magician outfit for himself. Though, he opted to have green accents instead of the traditional red. When you turned back around to face him, you couldn’t stop the girlish giggle that escaped your lips.

“Like what you see, darling?” he asked, striking a pose.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Despite your harsh response, you were blushing. As much as you were loath to admit it, he was rather dashing in the suit and top hat. You felt a sudden rush of nervousness as you introduced him to Katie and Lucas. You could see on their faces that they were trying to figure out where they knew Loki from. The second they connected the dots, their faces fell, but the reassuring smile you gave them must have worked since they started gathering the kids for the show. In all honesty, you hadn’t thought about their reaction to his being there. Or the other parents’ reaction, for that matter. It was hard to remember that the world was still clinging to the madman he’d been at the battle of New York when you knew he was just a witty prankster. Actually, he did a lot of good for the world. To you, he was just Loki.

You offered him a grateful smile as he stepped up in front of the kids and introduced himself as Loki the Magnificent. For as reluctant as he was in agreeing to this, he was putting on quite a show for them. It was a good thing, too, considering how brutally honest kids could be. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when it became apparent how enraptured all the children were with his act. He even brought Timmy and Tommy onstage to assist him with a few tricks. You made sure to take tons of pictures, partly for your sister, but mainly to tease Loki with later.

Once he finished his last trick, the kids were seated at various tables and the cake was brought out. You wanted to run up to Loki and thank him, but you had to help distribute the cake. After double checking that all the kids got a slice, you brought a piece to Loki.

“Hey, you were great up there. And I guess you really saved my ass,” you said, mumbling the last part.

“It was my pleasure. Believe it or not, I had fun.”

He raised a bit of cake on his fork in a sort of salute to you. You fully expected him to leave once he finished eating, but, to your surprise, he stayed even after all the guests had gone. You two were cleaning up the junk in the backyard when you found yourself thanking him again.

“Really,” you said, “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“Well mortal, let this be a lesson on how superior I am and-”

His sentence was cut short by you dumping a bucket of water down his back. You were laughing so hard that you didn’t notice him get one of his own to return the favor. You shrieked in delight as he started hurling leftover water balloons at you. You ran away from him, but his aim was impeccable. Pretty soon, you were drenched. Though you were able to seize some ammunition of your own, you were no match for the god.

“Okay, okay,” you shouted to him, bent over, trying to catch your breath. “Truce.”

“No way,” he replied, running up behind you and grabbing you by the waist. Lifting you into the air and spinning, he said, “I’m claiming this as a victory!”

Your laughter was making such a racket that Katie came to see what was going on. Through giggles, you apologized to her, but she just waved you off. Seeing as you and Loki were both sopping wet, she thanked you for all your help and sent you home to dry off. You wondered why she didn’t let you stay there to do so, but the smirk on her face answered that. Rolling your eyes at her, you said goodbye and then shouted farewells to Lucas and your nephews, who were inside.

You and Loki made your way to your car in a peaceful silence. You offered him a ride, but he insisted on teleporting you home instead. Only problem was, he brought you straight to his bedroom, not your home. You gave him a quizzical look that demanded he explain himself.

“Don’t forget, little one. You owe me a favor.”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After their movie ended, the Avengers tried to return your calls. You never did pick up. They didn’t have to wonder why for long, though. The sounds coming from a certain bedroom answered that question perfectly.