#anyways she totally takes personal commissions

[boinurmom13]

someone tell me something thats slander to isaacs name so i can hate his guts again

twll me he hate crimed 3 trans ppl or smth man Zpls PLS PSL PSL

anyways more isaac and ophelia

theyre so CUTE!!

i forgor captions

—

“Pissed he has to be here,” “Trying to show him around”

—

“Never been to the restaurant, too scared to correct,” “A regular, nervous”

Ophelia: U-uhm, he uh asked for no pickles

—

“Too nervous to talk”

—

guys say ohpelia is pretty rn or she’ll cry. she spends sm time on makeup so tell her shes pretty RIGHT NOW!! (someone’s gotta step up, cuz it sure as hell aint isaac)

anyone else think isaac is like super uncomfortable in unfamiliar places. like. genuinely. me personally, i think he shares the same nervous feeling lance gets when he goes into towns and stuff.

like.

if u told me isaac could order a bigmac without feeling like an idiot id laugh in ur face tbh

i might also be projecting so i like him more

anyways heres someone with crippling social anxiety and someone with the fear of unknown places (they kiss but u dont see that)

their love story could start one of two ways and i think ones cooler thsn the other

1. Ophelia stays some time at bo’s house due to either financial issues/issues with the guild she works for. they meet then, and it kinda goes from there.

read on cuz the second one’s long as hell!!

isaac has to stay for a long, LONG while in roder to figure this out, because got DAYMN they’re good at hiding. unbeknownst to ophelia’s guild, he is looking for the anamoly. so what do they do? assign the anamoly to be his guild “partner” for his stay (essentially, when alone in an unknown guild to help out, i’d image the bigger ones will assign an adventurer to the helping hand in order to help them learn the ropes and wtv. that’s ofc, prolly not true, but it works so stfu.) ophelia doesn’t know isaac’s purpose, isaac doesn’t know ophelia’s secret.

eventually, he does find out, because she’s a nervous wreck and crumbles when under any intense interrogation. their bond’s already strengthened, and he doesn’t really tell camilla (out of fear that maybe they’ll take ophelia away never to be seen again. ofc, if that happened, bo would go batshit crazy. one close cousin after the next? tf’s wrong with these ppl, yk? so either way, telling camilla would not be the best idea if he wants to keep ophelia alive and well.)

eventually, he does find out, because she’s a nervous wreck and crumbles when under any intense interrogation. their bond’s already strengthened, and he doesn’t really tell camilla (out of fear that maybe they’ll take ophelia away never to be seen again. ofc, if that happened, bo would go batshit crazy. one close cousin after the next? tf’s wrong with these ppl, yk? so either way, telling camilla would not be the best idea if he wants to keep ophelia alive and well.)

eventually, he does find out, because she’s a nervous wreck and crumbles when under any intense interrogation. their bond’s already strengthened, and he doesn’t really tell camilla (out of fear that maybe they’ll take ophelia away never to be seen again. ofc, if that happened, bo would go batshit crazy. one close cousin after the next? tf’s wrong with these ppl, yk? so either way, telling camilla would not be the best idea if he wants to keep ophelia alive and well.)

isaac returns to castle village, still keeping in touch with ophelia through the bi-weekly letters (basically updates on anything interesting, or just sometimes to have a quick conersation back and forth. i could go on and on abt the lettering systme, but like, instant cuz magic and woo magic!!). he doesn’t tell camilla that ophelia’s the anamoly, and instead rants abt how rumors aren’t always believable and how half of the gossip amongst guilds is the dumbest shit ever (typical behavior for him)

they’re so cute guys say they’re cute rn or ill cry

when sve 2.0 comes out im making a new farm save for the sole purpse of marrying isaac as ophelia

i hope he ends up being an awkward mess. not like standard stereotypical awkward, but like. genuinely doesn’t know how to show affection awkward. prolly says “i think ur alright, i guess” as a compliment. tf do you mean “alright”? tell me im the hottest chick in this valley

idc if im a man

tell me im the hottest chick in this valley RIGHT NOW!!!

yah anyways i think i might be getting attached to him so someone stop that rn please pLEASE PLWEASE PLEASE PLEASE

live laugh love lance (IM FORCING MYSELF TO BELIEVE THIS BUT I STILL LOVE LANCE I PROMISE)

(PLEASE LET ME KEEP LOVING LANCE I CANNOT HAVE AN HONEST TO GOD HATE TO LOVE SITUATION HERE WITH A FICTIONAL CHARACTER)

(PLEASE PLEASPEL PELAPSLEP LAPLSSPLEAPL EPALSPELAP LEPALSE)

isaac is a lil goofy tho. like maybe if he stopped talking in weird omninous messages every time i look thru his diagloue file. like ok idc abt an adventure’s resolve or how ur gonan deicde ur own death or wtv. tell me how many inches it is jesus. idc care abt ur philosophy i just want ur body

(i prommise this is a joke i do respoect men pls i rppmise)

#stardew valley #stardew valley expanded #sdv oc #sdv #sve #sve isaac #sdv farmer #isaac sve #ophelia canonically makes dolls at cheap prices for funeral services and single parents #she says its comforting for the family of the deceased to have a doll of them #anyways she totally takes personal commissions #isaac jokes abt her making one of him once and she like #actually took it seriously #she made a doll of him #and after about two weeks after isaac left back to castel village #he was mailed it in a pretty and neat box #it sits on his untility belt but u didnt hear that from me

[alias71]

Endeavour & Joan - Missing Scene

It all started with this print (© The Red Dress London on Etsy):

I noticed that the moment depicted between Endeavour and Joan was not included in Season 6, which this artwork was commissioned to advertise. I didn't think much about it until the wonderful @sircolinmorgan posted this image from shutterstock:

Finally! Evidence that the deleted scene existed! But where from? Some investigation was required...

Okay, so when lightened up a bit, what you can tell just from that pic alone is that there’s a blackboard in the background, someone sitting at a desk, and you can see the edge of a camp bed (you can also see that she’s holding his other hand!) All of that of course suggests ‘Deguello’ and the aftermath of the tower collapse in the gymnasium. As far as I can tell there’s only one scene in the episode at this location and it’s when Endeavour escorts a child to a waiting parent and then Strange and Thursday are there and reach for him (quite a lovely caring moment):

Compare the first of these three pics and you’ll see the blackboard, the person at the desk, and that the blue area in the shutterstock pic is the privacy screen next to the blackboard.

Endeavour is wearing his blue shirt that’s consistent with both images, but he never takes his jacket off in the actual scene and it’s very odd that Strange touches Endeavour’s shoulder and he turns around, only for the scene to immediately cut to the makeshift morgue scene with DeBryn. You never see another scene at that location as far as I can tell. Does that imply something was cut there? The shutterstock pic shows Joan at that location, but she was never there in the episode.

The next scene with Endeavour is when he visits the little girl in hospital and meets Joan there:

Their conversation is extremely brief with Joan telling Endeavour he should be at home:

Morse: I wanted to see if she was all right. How is she? How's her mum?

Joan: Hanging in there. You should be home.

Morse: Home. So should she. So should her mother. So should everyone.

Joan: Accidents happen.

Morse: Yeah, not like this. You know, somebody's got to be responsible. Is there anything I can do?

Joan: You've done your bit and more.

Morse: Good night.

Joan: Good night.

Joan is of course wearing the same as in the shutterstock pic. The next time we see Joan she runs into Endeavour when he’s investigating the surveyor and she’s changed clothes:

They talk about the survivors and then have this little exchange:

Joan: How are things with you?

Morse: Oh, one day's much the same as the next.

Joan: I didn't mean work, I meant you.

Morse: Oh, it's the same thing, isn't it? Have you seen your father lately?

Joan: Not much. Why?

Morse: Well, I just wondered if he was all right. He hasn't seemed himself lately.

Joan: Oh.

Morse: Anyway, there it is.

It’s extremely halting and Endeavour leaves looking all awkward and uncomfortable. Make of that what you will because neither of the filmed scenes between Endeavour and Joan play like they could have had such a close moment as in the shutterstock pic with Joan touching his face and holding his hand. Obviously one was switched out, but it seems to me the entire tenor of their interaction in 'Deguello' was changed. These are the only scenes they had together and Joan isn’t in the rest of the episode or the next season for that matter! I wonder if it played a part that Sara Vickers wasn’t available - I have no idea how far in advance they could have known. It's also possible they felt that a romantic moment would have been out of place in the midst of a tragedy, or perhaps they simply decided against allowing Endeavour and Joan to be close. No matter the reason, it's a real shame - it looked like a beautiful scene!

Anyway, that was my little Sherlockian endeavour (snort!) into the missing Endeavour/Joan moment everyone was robbed of. I think it’s probably much like the sigil scene in BBCs ‘Merlin’ where a totally different version was filmed with a very different feel, and we don’t know why that was swapped out either! Damn my favourite shows.

#itv endeavour #endeavour morse #shaun evans #joan thursday #sarah vickers #deguello #season 6 #morsetache forever! #and also those dark suits

[phantomoftheorpheum]

y'all, I wrote this ridiculously long analysis of the first 2 eps of PLL: OS (Summer School), but it was too long so this is what you get instead.

*Spoilers for 1x01, 1x02, and the "Weeks Ahead" trailer

I see a lot of people suspicious that Christian may be related to (or good friends) with Chip, and I do understand where those theories are coming from. I personally think it's more likely that Christian will be an early suspect of the season. I think the girls will discover that Christian made the "Bloody Rose" mask/costume, and believe he is involved, but that we will find out that it was a commissioned work and he doesn't know the identity of the person who bought it (they might even use this to have him describe a character who came to pick up the mask/outfit, but intentionally make us think of someone else- like describing an older white lady and the show points us at Chip's mom, or Kelly's mom, or Dr. Sullivan, etc. depending on who they don't want us to suspect). Obviously this is conjecture and I could be totally off base, but that's my read on Christian. This is also not to suggest that I think he's 100% above board (I have some other theories about him), but this is where I am with him at this moment.

Female rage has always been a major theme of this reboot, and it feels particularly relevant, considering "Rose" is our scary person in a mask, so personally I really do hope the main person responsible (even if there are multiple people involved) this season is a woman. I think it just fits the theme of the show really well. That being said, I could be talked around to alternatives.

I can't stop considering how the Our Mother of Holy Grace church comes into play here. So, here's where that takes my brain. This church is led by Pastor Malachi. Interesting choice of names- Malachi is the last book of the Old Testament. It focuses on criticizing those who are not committed/faithful enough, and also criticizes those who question God's justice. We know that Rose Waters (the real Rose Waters) was incredibly religious, and that she wielded religion as a tool in her abuse of Angela and Archie. "Bloody Rose" wears a crown of thorns, an incredibly famous bit of religious imagery. The actual Rose Waters walked the path of "religious woman who failed her children (was abusive towards them & did not protect Angela from her "friends") and lost one to violence, then became violent with those she blamed for this." We have another character who could easily walk that same path- Mrs. Beasley is a religious woman who failed her children (Karen, dead. Kelly isolated & traumatized, neither protected from this sequence of events) and lost one to violence, then became violent with those she blamed for this (stabbed her husband). But there could be a lot more people than Tom Beasley on her "blame" list. Particularly if her feelings/grief around Karen have become tangled up in her religious devotion. That is to say that, so far, everyone who has died in this season (though the first few kills were Archie's) could easily be considered a "sinner" ("the guilty" from season 1, the teens in the cabin, Sandy "tempting" Greg), and "Bloody Rose" may see herself as meting out God's justice. But then... why the girls? Well, it sounds like they are getting "tests" this year, which, similar to last season, makes me think they are not kill targets (yet), that "Rose" is still deciding about them. Anyway, again, all conjecture/interpretation and I could be completely off base.

I think people are gonna hate to hear it, but- I think we might be getting a lot of Faran & Greg this season (I don't mean this romantically, though I don't think that's 100% out of the question, either). Greg's actor got his billing upgraded between seasons, which implies he'll have more screen time. I don't think the Henry/Faran relationship is long for this world (she's lying to him, he seems resentful that he chose to stay behind with her, she told Kelly she doesn't know what they have in common outside of dance, he ignored her when she asked him to let her handle things, they just aren't clicking), and I think Faran & Greg may end up (unwillingly) teamed up trying to figure out what's going on with Kelly & the church.

Random, but I think we might get a "secluded cabin in the woods" episode this season, since that's a big summer slasher trope and they reminded us right away that Imogen's dad has one of those.

I have 3 categories for characters (not including the main 5 girls), "actual suspects," "suspicious by default, but could go either way," and "keeping my eye on you." Here they are-

Actual Suspects - Mrs. Beasley, Mrs Beasley + Kelly, Mrs. Beasley + Pastor Malachi, Any combination of people from the church, Chip's Mom, Dr. Sullivan.

Suspicious By Default, But Could Go Either Way - Jen, Christian, Johnny, Coach Rhodes, Imogen's dad.

Keeping My Eye On You - Wes, Shawn, Ash, Henry

I think that's it for now. I'm sure I'm wrong about a lot of stuff, but it's the guessing that makes it fun imo.

#pll original sin #pll os #pll summer school #pll os summer school #pretty little liars #pretty little liars original sin #pretty little liars summer school #mine #thoughts #pll spoilers #pll summer school spoilers

[shootingstarpilot]

An Interlude on Melidaan

(Please check the tags for content warnings!)

Stitch is sitting with Helix when he gets the call.

Helix had woken up for just long enough to squint, recognize Stitch, mutter something about his head having been trampled by a herd of banthas, and pass out again- enough to reassure Stitch that the surgery had gone smoothly. He doesn't like it when any of them are out of commission, but it had been agreed that de-chipping the medics was a priority so they could facilitate removals of the rest of the 212th when they were underway again.

Helix had volunteered first, with an expression that forbade disagreement. Needle's in pre-op now, Stitch knows- he'd hugged him tight and had told him not to worry, and Stitch had nodded against his chest and had told him he was going to worry anyway because that's what you did for your brothers, and Needle's smile had gone all soft around the edges before he'd vanished down the hall.

Stitch has a very long list of things you do for your brothers, and the list grows longer by the day.

And right behind worrying for your brothers is going to them when they need you.

"Needle?"

He knocks once, twice, three times before a steady voice tells him to come in.

He does.

Needle is sitting on the edge of the gurney, pale-faced, hands clutching the blanket under him so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Another person- Stitch had seen her at Jess's side, but had missed her name- is standing a safe distance away, head tilted back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Stitch blinks. "What happened?"

Needle laughs, hoarse and hurting. "Nothing yet," he mutters. "I- can't. Apparently."

He shifts. "Sorry about your nose, Rittan."

The surgeon- Rittan- is olive-skinned and square-jawed and has a knot of scar tissue sealing shut the socket where her left eye should be. She wrinkles her nose assessingly, drops her hand, and waves Needle's apology off as she settles into her chair.

Stitch likes her immediately.

"Don't be," she says easily. "I've had worse. I once called a total evac when Bretta tossed me an apple and I saw a grenade. We've all got our own twitches."

It takes Stitch a moment to make the connection.

To realize why he's here.

And then he looks again at Needle's pale face and thinks-

Oh.

Needle glances up.

"I- can't," he bursts out. "I thought I could, but I- can't. I can't have- I can't-"

He stops. His shoulders sag.

"I can't," he repeats helplessly. "I can't. I want it out. I can't."

"But you know-"

"Yeah."

"And that it could-"

"I know."

"Or even-"

"Stitch."

Stitch's mouth snaps shut. Needle winces.

"I... know," he says slowly. "I do. I want it out. I want it out. I want it out."

He stops. Presses his hands hard against his eyes.

"I was this close to lying to both of you," he says eventually. "Tell her I'd get it done on the ship. Tell you I'd gotten it done here. And just-"

He shrugs. Helpless. Hurting.

"It could wipe you away," Stitch says desperately, and regrets it immediately when Needle's whole body jerks.

"So maybe I'll just sit here until the end of fucking time, then," Needle snaps, "because I can't let it stay in my brain but I can't let anyone else's fingers in there either! Not-"

He stops.

Stitch's whole chest hurts.

Not again.

"Sorry," Needle says hoarsely. "Sorry. I- hell. Rittan suggested calling someone, but- you can go. I'll figure it out. You can-"

Stitch has stopped listening.

A slow plan is bubbling to life in the back of his mind.

"Needle," he interrupts, "you trust me, right?"

"I- what? Of course-"

"And you want it out?"

Needle curls inwards, hugging himself.

"I don't want it to happen again, Stitch," he whispers, and Stitch nods.

Needle trusts him. Needle wants it out.

He can't let it be taken out.

But he wants it out.

Okay.

"I am going to get you something to drink," he says decisively. "Because hydration is important. While I think. You'll stay here?"

He's met with a wan smile. "Cross my heart."

Stitch hesitates.

(But Needle does this all the time. And it's- nice.)

After a beat, he cups Needle's face in his hands, leans down, and carefully presses a kiss to his forehead.

Needle's eyes are very wide, when he looks down.

"Did I do that right?" Stitch asks, suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous.

Needle's smile looks more like Needle, this time. "Perfect."

Oh.

That's-

That's good.

Right.

The plan.

He returns with a cup of grape juice.

(Needle trusts him.)

He hands it to Needle.

(Needle trusts him.)

Needle drinks, without a second's hesitation.

(Needle trusts him.)

Stitch catches both him and the cup.

"Pretty strong grape juice," Rittan observes.

She's- watching him.

Stitch meets her gaze. "Propofol," he says quietly. "Grape juice so he won't associate it with water later. I'll be your second."

Another item on the list of things you do for your brothers:

The things they can't.

Stitch is largely silent, as Rittan narrates every step.

Watching.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

At one point:

"There's a lot of scarring," Rittan observes. "More than I'd have expected."

"Yes," Stitch says, and does not elaborate.

Needle is moved to recovery.

Stitch settles down next to him.

He doesn't know how much time passes before Needle's breathing shifts into something shallower. Faster.

Stitch knows panic when he sees it, and pokes him. "Needle."

"Mmph."

"Needle," Stitch repeats, and pokes him again.

"...'ch?"

"Yes. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

A moment of stillness. He sees Needle's eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, hears his breathing hitch-

"Needle. Needle. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

Needle's hands flex, curling into the sheet-

"'s a trick question," he manages. "Y'got two."

"What're the two, then?"

"...Blue. 'N tall."

"See?" Stitch whispers, smiling when Needle's eyes crack open and focus on him. "Still you. Still my Needle."

Needle's brow furrows, puzzled. "You..."

Stitch sits on his hands to stop himself from tapping.

"Stitch...?"

"Propofol in the grape juice," he whispers. "You couldn't. So I did."

A beat. A slow nod.

"Are you angry?"

A slow smile spreads across Needle's face.

"Good medic," he sighs, closing his eyes again, and Stitch carefully leans forward and rests his head on Needle's chest.

Feeling him breathe.

"I learned from the best," he whispers, and Needle's free hand reaches upwards and settles in his hair.

It'll be his turn in a bit, he knows. But Rittan will come and find him.

He's got time.

Needle's asleep by the time Stitch senses someone at the door.

He shifts as much as he can without disturbing Needle and looks up, expecting Rittan-

"Hey," Helix says quietly. He's leaning against the doorframe, eyes bright. "Everything go okay?"

Stitch nods.

There's a lump in his throat.

Helix pushes himself up and makes his way over, his gaze flickering towards the monitors. He stops at Needle's side, brushes his hair back-

Then he leans down and drops a kiss on his forehead.

Quick and swift as anything.

He keeps one hand there when he turns to Stitch.

"Rittan asked me to call you," he says quietly. "You want company?"

Stitch shakes his head. "You have to stay here. With Needle. Okay?"

A faintly puzzled smile flickers across Helix's face as he settles into the other chair. "Okay, Stitch. Second bed in here's free, too- I'll make sure it stays that way for you."

"Thanks, Helix," Stitch says. He gathers himself, stands, makes his way towards the door-

Then he pauses. "Did Needle get that from you?"

Helix glances up. "Get what?"

"The forehead kisses. He's good at those."

Helix snorts a laugh. "Doubt it. I think he was kind before he got here."

Stitch nods.

He thinks so, too.

#anyway i've been messing around with how much brain surgery would fuck with needle for ages #so i am inflicting those thoughts on you #shoulder the sky #dubious morality #specifically: stitch drugs needle's drink for brain surgery #desperate times call for desperate measures #kamino fucked everyone up and they are all strangers to healthy coping mechanisms

[thetomorrowshow]

apologies

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

a story that takes place during chapter 10 of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, anxiety, food

~

“Hi, Major!”

Jimmy starts, looks behind them.

Blossom is standing on the curb across the road, opening up a mailbox to remove the contents.

Scott waves back cheerily, one hand still unlocking the front door. “Hey, Blossom! Your garden looks so cute today!”

“Scott,” Jimmy mutters, tugging anxiously on the hem of his own hoodie. “Scott. Can we please go in?”

“Aw, thanks! Hi, Major’s roommate! How are you doing?”

That’s Blossom. He can’t—he looks over at Scott, silently begging him to unlock the door and let him in so he doesn’t have to answer.

“We’re both doing wonderful,” Scott replies, in lieu of Jimmy saying anything. Blossom smiles widely, and Jimmy’s close to actually tapping Scott on the shoulder because they’ve been standing there with the keys in the lock for what feels like hours and he really doesn’t feel comfortable making small talk with Blossom, of all people.

“Scott, please,” he whispers, and Scott finally notices his distress and pushes the door open, stepping aside to let Jimmy in.

Jimmy pushes past him, uncaring of how rude it probably seems, as Scott calls another pleasantry across the road.

It wasn’t his first venture out of the house, but only his third, and he’d been on edge the entire time at the hardware store, had barely been able to give his opinion on the paint swatches he was supposed to be looking at.

They’re painting his room, as much as he insists he’s fine with the white walls. He’d decided on a pale green eventually, and now he sets the two cans of paint down on the dining room table and puts his hands beside them and just tries to breathe.

He’s fine. It’s fine. He lives in a neighborhood of superheros, of course he’s going to run into them at some point. It’s unreasonable to think that he can live in total isolation and still get better.

He’d just prefer they were strangers.

The front door closes. “Jimmy?”

Jimmy doesn’t look up, just presses his hands harder into the table. “I’m fine,” he lies, voice shaking.

Scott sounds unsure when he next speaks. “Was it—was it just someone talking to you? Or was there something else?”

There are some things that Scott will just let go. Things that he clearly doesn’t know how to handle, so he doesn’t push and accepts that it’s something Jimmy isn’t capable of and they leave it at that.

This is clearly not one of those things.

“I’ve hurt her,” he manages, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Both recently, and . . . before. I’ve—I’ve hurt all of them, Scott, I’ve hurt Pearl and Gem and the Mad King and—”

“Do you want to sit down?” interrupts Scott, and Jimmy nods gratefully and lets Scott take him by the arm and lead him to the living room sofa.

“Jimmy,” Scott starts, glancing uncertainly at him, “they don’t . . . Blossom doesn’t know, you know? Most of them don’t know who you are.”

Most implies that some of them do, and that does little to calm Jimmy’s nerves anyway. The facts of the matter are that Jimmy’s hurt a lot of people whether he meant to or not, and some of those people just happened to be well-loved and extremely powerful superheroes, and if he tries to apologize and explain to any of them, he’s more likely to be killed or jailed than forgiven.

“Who does know?”

Scott bites his lip. “Gem, for sure. She knows just about everything, actually, and she’s a very forgiving person and is fine with it.”

Gem is one of the people he’s hurt the worst—he remembers hurting her so badly back when she first became a hero that she was out of commission for weeks.

He needs to apologize in person.

“And because Gem knows, fWhip knows, and maybe Mythics and Pearl, considering whatever weird friendship they all have.”

Great. That doesn’t make him panic any less. He knew that Mythics knew the connection between Solidarity and the Canary due to less than fortunate circumstances, and he’d had a hand in kidnapping Gem so that makes sense anyways. fWhip doesn’t particularly like him, but if he hasn’t said anything then hopefully he doesn’t have to reach out. Pearl is an unknown.

“Oh, and Joel, of course,” Scott waves off, and Jimmy frowns.

“Joel?”

Scott blinks, his face falling. “Forget I said anything?” he tries half-heartedly. Then he shrugs, grins at Jimmy. “Eh, you would’ve learned it eventually. That’s the Mad King, he helped a lot in getting you and Gem out of there.”

Okay, that’s not . . . that’s not too bad. His memory is, admittedly, blurry, but he can vaguely recall the Mad King turning up at the end of . . . that day.

At least it’s not the entire city. Jimmy knows that Scott had had to pull some pretty powerful strings to arrange for his identity to be kept a secret, which he’s forever grateful for. It’s just utterly terrifying, knowing that there are so many people who do know who he is, and those people just so happen to be those wronged by him.

He clenches his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “I need—I need to apologize to them. If I can.”

Scott doesn’t answer at first, just surveys him with an unreadable expression. “You sure?”

Jimmy nods. It’s absolutely terrifying, but he has to do it—just like how he still has to apologize to Lizzie.

Maybe apologizing with other people, for less important transgressions, will make the eventual confrontation with his estranged sister easier.

“Well, there’s actually a neighborhood barbeque this weekend,” Scott offers, and there’s something—there’s something sly in his voice, something suspicious, but Scott’s face is open and innocent when Jimmy meets his eyes. “Masked, of course. We could go to that, and you could see those people in person.”

Already, a pit in his stomach opens, dread spilling out of it. It’s Tuesday. That only gives him a couple of days before he has to see these people. Barely any time to plan anything, barely any time to try to find the words that he’s been searching for for the past five weeks while he postpones Lizzie’s visits.

Scott’s been talking a lot lately about spontaneity.

Jimmy used to live his life based around spontaneity.

Maybe he can just . . . be spontaneous again. It’s been so long since he didn’t have a schedule (even if it wasn’t one that he planned out), so long since he just rolled with the punches.

Maybe this will be good for him.

-

Jimmy’s precisely thirty seconds into the barbeque and he knows it will not be good for him.

It’s being hosted in the Mad King’s backyard, just down the street, and he and Scott are early enough that they’re the second to arrive, just after Blossom.

“She’s usually on time to stuff,” Scott whispers to Jimmy as they help the Mad King—or, Joel—lug coolers out onto the patio. “Gem is too, but if she’s bringing fWhip along she’ll be late.”

Gem doesn’t arrive at six on the dot, so Jimmy assumes fWhip is coming along. Joy.

It’s not a large group that’s gathered in Joel’s backyard by the time a half hour has passed, but there are several unfamiliar faces—or, masks, rather. Scott mentions that they don’t necessarily all live here, but there are many upstart heroes in the city and inviting them to neighborhood events is a way to show that the city-sponsored ones recognize the good they do.

He mostly sticks to Scott’s side, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, tugging at his mask every so often. It feels like everyone at the party is watching him, knows who he is. There’s no way they don’t recognize him. There’s no way they don’t see his hair combined with his frame and mask and see the Canary or Solidarity.

“Hi, Major’s roommate,” Blossom greets him cheerfully when he and Scott make their way to the drinks table. She’s getting herself some lemonade; Jimmy fills a red solo cup with water and holds onto it to try and stop his hands from shaking so much.

“Hey, Blossom,” Scott says for him, picking up a cherry tomato from the vegetable spread someone had brought and popping it into his mouth. “I’m not sure I ever thanked you for catching my shift last week. Did anyone give you any trouble?”

“Not at all! I think they knew that I was around, and I wasn’t playing games, Major,” Blossom teases. Scott scoffs.

“Yeah, right. More like they decided to go easy on you.”

“Hey, TJ, right?” someone says loudly from behind him. Jimmy jumps, spins around to be face-to-face with the Mad King, a mask crooked over his eyes and a plain apron thrown over his jeans and t-shirt.

“I—uh—”

The Mad King jerks his head toward the grill. “Don’t freak out or anything, just wanted to ask for some help.”

Jimmy glances at Scott, who gives him an encouraging nod, then follows, feeling almost as though the Mad King is leading him to the gallows.

Which is entirely overdramatic, especially since the man helped rescue him in the first place.

The Mad King hands Jimmy a pair of tongs and a plate of hot dogs, explains the segment of the grill he ought to put them on, and tells him when to rotate them, even as he seasons burgers already on the grill and flips them around. Jimmy’s not quite sure what’s happening—he’s never used a grill before, so he isn’t sure if Joel’s cooking is anything particularly talented, but he’s impressed at least.

“How’ve you been holding up?” The Mad King asks after a moment, voice low. Jimmy blinks.

“Um. I’m—well, I’m here?”

Joel snorts. “Yeah, I thought that was kind of weird, really. What’d Major have to do to convince you to come to the superhero barbecue?”

At some point while crossing the yard, Jimmy had set down his cup. He wishes that he still had it, so that both his hands could be occupied. Instead, he stuffs one in his hoodie pocket, and very carefully turns a hot dog with the other.

“I want to apologize,” he says eventually. “I—to the people who know who I am. S—Major said, like—like, Gem, and fWhip know? And maybe Pearl? But I don’t know . . . I don’t. . . .”

“Know how to, like, start a conversation like that?” Joel suggests, and Jimmy nods. Joel clicks his tongue. “Go for it blunt. ‘Hi, my name’s TJ, I beat you up a couple times. How ‘bout we let bygones be bygones, yeah?’ Like that.”

“Absolutely not,” Jimmy says instantly, horrified by the idea. “I can’t just—I need to do it right—”

“‘Hi, Gem, remember when I kidnapped you and submitted you to torture? That’s my bad. Want to play pin the tail on the donkey?’”

“Oh my gosh—”

“‘Oh, fWhip! Yeah, I’m the guy who broke your back. Good times. How’re the kids?’”

“You are something else,” Jimmy manages faintly, setting the tongs down to bury his face in his hands. “Does he really have kids? Did he really break his back?”

“Pretty sure he didn’t break his back, you know, but yeah, his back got broken. Not sure about the kids.”

“I’m never going to get through this,” Jimmy mutters, slightly hysterical. “I’m going to die here. I’m going to panic and break something and then Scott will send me away and—”

“Hey, hey, secret identities,” the Mad King chides. Jimmy presses his fingers into his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. After a moment, there’s a heavy pat-pat on his shoulder that he just barely doesn’t flinch away from.

“There, there,” Joel says awkwardly. It’s out-of-place enough that Jimmy laughs a bit, sucking in a long breath.

When he can, he lifts his face, picks the tongs back up, returns to watching the hot dogs cook. He glances around, checking to see if anyone’s watching. Everything’s going as normal, nobody seems to have noticed—even Scott, across the yard and lightyears away, is just laughing at some joke Pearl made.

“Sorry,” Jimmy says. Joel chuckles.

“How about you just start with apologizing to me?”

Well, the Mad King is on his apology list. But though he’d just been talking with him, though the conversation even seems almost friendly, Jimmy’s suddenly sweating from everywhere, heart jumping into his throat.

He has to do this.

“I’m—sorry,” he ekes out. He sets the tongs down, then doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and picks them back up. He avoids making eye contact with the Mad King. “For—for all the times I hurt you as the Canary. Or as Solidarity. I wasn’t—things weren’t going great. And also that time I hit you with a trash can.”

“Twice,” Joel points out.

Jimmy swallows. “Yeah. Twice.”

“Those are probably done, by the way,” Joel says, holding out the plate. Mechanically, Jimmy layers the hot dogs onto it.

“Honestly, TJ?” says Joel, flipping a burger and setting another one on the plate. “I’m really surprised you’re even here. It’s been, what—five weeks? Six? Since you got here?”

Jimmy nods.

“Right. Well, if I were you, I’d—I’d be bloomin’ terrified. I wouldn’t have even left my room. You just being here—even if you don’t talk to anyone else—that’s huge, in my opinion.”

Jimmy nods again, glances over to Scott, who is now alone. He starts to sidle away—he isn’t sure how to end conversations, really, he hasn’t had much practice and Scott never minds it when he just heads out to avoid the ending part, but Joel holds a hand out, offers him a small grin.

“And thanks. I accept your apology,” he says, before waving Jimmy on. “Go on, have a good time. Or don’t, more likely. At least eat something, yeah? Lizzie would kill me if she knew you weren’t eating.”

Jimmy doesn’t process that until he’s halfway across the yard, but when he does, he freezes in his tracks.

And it kind of makes sense, when he thinks about it. He’d witnessed the Mad King in battles teamed up with his sister, and they’d both gone with Scott to rescue him.

He tables that for a later date. Maybe Scott knows something about it. He doesn’t really want to strike up another conversation with the Mad King just to ask about it—as nice as he is, he is a little disconcerting.

Jimmy continues toward Scott, only to freeze again when someone taps him on the shoulder.

He spins around, and—fWhip.

fWhip offers him a toothy grin. “Hey, Major’s roommate, yeah? How long have you guys . . . you know. . . ?”

Jimmy stares back, mouth slightly agape. One of the people he definitely has to talk to, and the anxiety in his chest is bubbling up past boiling point.

fWhip’s grin fades. “Right. Um. Anyway, my sister and I—that is, Gem—we were wondering if we could chat with you for a quick minute? I promise we won’t keep you from Scott for very long.”

Which is an odd thing to say, but not exactly wrong. Jimmy thinks for a moment longer—for all he knows, they’ll lead him to a back alley somewhere and beat him up—but he’d deserve it, really, so he decides to go along.

Gem is waiting just inside the house, leaning against the kitchen counter. She smiles wryly, waves a little bit.

“Hi,” she greets him. “Are you still the Canary, or just Solidarity?”

Jimmy winces. “Er, neither,” he says stiltedly. “Just—just TJ. If that’s okay.”

“You weren’t mind-controlled, were you?” fWhip says bluntly. “The Mad King always said you weren’t. And—”

“TJ,” Gem interrupts. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. Mythics told us how badly you were hurting, and we never even noticed anything was wrong. It’s made me rethink my approach to being a hero. I want to help people, but I think I made things worse for you, and I’m sorry.”

Jimmy blinks. Tries to process that.

She’s apologizing to him? But—he doesn’t deserve that, he doesn’t deserve it when he’s the one who hurt her over and over before he was even Xornoth’s, then kidnapped her and subjected her to torture.

His head feels a bit like it’s spinning.

“I mean, I’m not gonna apologize,” fWhip says, shrugging. “But no hard feelings, yeah? I think we’ve both been in some pretty bad situations recently. So yeah.”

Jimmy swallows a few times. At least fWhip hadn’t apologized, he’s not sure what he would’ve done if he had.

“I’m sorry, too,” he forces out. “I shouldn’t have—I hurt you, both of you, a lot. You didn’t do anything.”

“It’s fine,” Gem says at the same time that fWhip says, “Thanks for apologizing.” They exchange a look, then both turn back to Jimmy.

“I know Major pretty well,” Gem says. “I trust him to be a good judge of character. I look forward to getting to know you, TJ.” She smiles warmly, then slides past him and out the backdoor.

“I don’t really trust you,” fWhip says. “Or Major, really. But I trust Gem. So, just . . . glad you’re reforming and all that. See ya.”

And then Jimmy’s alone in the kitchen, and that hadn’t exactly gone as anticipated. It hadn’t gone at all like anticipated, actually.

He’s going to need a couple of days to come to terms with that.

Jimmy heads back out, making a beeline for Scott. This time, nobody pulls him aside, and he can get all the way to him with no issue. Scott raises an eyebrow, but Jimmy shakes his head, so Scott just points him to the grill.

“Go get something to eat, yeah? We can leave after that if you aren’t comfortable.”

Joel shoots him a grin when he takes a hot dog, and Gem passes him the mayo at the condiments table, and Blossom corners him by the chips to ask him if he and Scott have seen the latest episodes of some unknowable TV show (and when he says they haven’t, she gushes about it for a good ten minutes while he tries to eat, frequently giving him strange looks whenever she brings up the main character’s romance).

It’s a lot. It’s inevitable that something goes wrong—and it does, but nothing big, just Jimmy trips over a small crack in the patio that quickly becomes a very large crack as the corner of the paving splits off.

He looks over at Joel, who shrugs, then back to Scott, who calls out an apology to Joel. And that’s it. Joel turns back to his conversation with Pearl and that’s it.

For the first time that evening, the knot in Jimmy’s chest loosens a little bit.

And if he can handle this, then talking to Lizzie will be a piece of cake.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #empires superpowers au #esh au #040924 #mas writes #hskjdhj this one was lowkey so ufn #*fun #jimmy hanging out with the heroes is just a lil fluffy! #still away of course #so not much to say here! #hope yall enjoyed this one #love you guys

[idyllic-affections]

HELLO!! YOUR BAIZHU WITH CHRONICALLY ILL READER IS THE BEST THING THAT'S EVERY HAPPENED!!! I've never seen a blog that does only platonic things, and as an aroace person, IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY! I wasn't too sure if you requests were open or not, but I was wondering if you could make either some headcanons or a fic where the reader (from that series) has a flare up or gets sick and Baizhu takes care of them? I'm unfortunately sick right now (just in time for when my final school assignments are due, slay 😍) but found family and hurt/comfort are literally the best thing ever, and, if put together, I'm pretty sure will cure me /j. If you requests aren't open, then please disregard this message!

Anyway, I gotta go sleep before the fever messes up my brain (if it hasn't already); so good bye, and thank you again!!

a slip of the tongue.

summary. how does baizhu care for his junior herbalist when they fall ill?

trigger & content warnings. flu-like sickness, lighthearted mentions of death.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort-ish. baizhu & reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of invisible disability? it's rather visible to me & contains vaguely implied spoilers for baizhu's story quest.

author's thoughts. hello lovely!!! thank youu <3 i am slowly collecting people that like this series like how i collect shiny rocks. its great to get a request related to it. i hold this series very dearly, so please (and this goes for everyone reading this!) never be shy to send thoughts about it or requests related to it. anyway, i love catering to aroace folk, you all are so special to me. im on the aro spectrum myself, so i get it. i know from experience that it can be super frustrating looking for fanfic content that's non-romantic. please remember to take care of yourself! i totally understand the feeling of needing to finish final assignments while being sick. me and you are in the exact same boat LMAO... my requests are always open btw! ive no intention of ever closing them. in the end, i went with our poor reader being sick rather than having flare ups, since i already briefly touched on that idea in employee benefits.

how does baizhu care for his junior herbalist when they're sick and out of commission?

baizhu is most often the first to know when they're sick or otherwise unwell. he's so impossibly attentive to their bodily condition, simply because their health is partially his responsibility. he's their teacher. what kind of mentor would neglect to take care of their apprentice? a bad one, that's what kind.

(he also feels somewhat indebted to them—even though they're chronically ill, they're always doing anything they can to help him recover after his "secret art" treatments. even though he's the doctor, they've helped care for him on more than one occasion. he has to return the favor whenever he can. just because he's older doesn't mean he gets to freely take advantage of their kindness.)

if he's not the first to know, he's the second, because the only instance where he wouldn't know first is if they woke up ill at home.

he'll always end up being the second to know, at the very least. someone will inform him of their condition, whether that be a parent or a sibling or another family member. sometimes a friend of theirs may tell him, such as xingqiu, chongyun, hu tao, or xiangling.

in hu tao's case... she may be distrustful of him, but she does tell him when they aren't well. [name] is a childhood friend of hers. she cares about their health and, surprisingly, doesn't want to put them in the ground just yet!

even though she dreads the path they've chosen to walk down... she still cares for them, very much so.

(junior herbalist!reader's lore drop is finally here?!?!?)

regardless of how baizhu finds out, they'll end up being cared for at the pharmacy.

though he could prescribe them medication and let them be taken care of at home...

he often wants to care for them himself.

gui has asked why in the past, and baizhu really has never had a good answer for him.

he's really not sure why he wants to be the one to monitor them. perhaps it's because it gives him a sense of calmness and reassures him that they're recovering well.

after all, if their condition were to rapidly decline for any reason... he could fix it.

(to some others, his concern might seem overprotective. unnecessary. however, something as simple as the flu has been known to take lives. he worries that, because of their chronic illness, they may be more susceptible to a severe case than others are.)

he has the means to save them if something like that were to happen, and undoubtedly, the life of his sweet and kind apprentice is one that deserves to be saved and protected.

perhaps it's also because it seems to put qiqi at ease; baizhu's noticed that she gets fidgety in [name]'s absence during work hours, but when they're ill and being cared for at the pharmacy, she functions very well and often even remembers to check on them herself.

sometimes when they have a fever, qiqi may sit by their side for minutes at a time and just press her little cold hands on their forehead to cool them off. she also ensures that they stay hydrated.

both baizhu and gui find this behavior very endearing. qiqi cares deeply for her big sibling (despite the fact that she's technically older...). her bond with them is something very special and sweet to bear witness to.

bubu pharmacy's work environment is familial and tightly knit by nature, so it isn't too hard to imagine that something would feel wrong if one of the four herbalists were gone for whatever reason. even those who don't work there are affected by the absence of one or more of the pharmacists.

overall, baizhu takes very good care of them when they fall ill.

he monitors them closely, hand-crafts their medicine depending on what they need, makes sure that their fluid intake is maintained...

he dotes on them tbh.

"Ugh..." they groaned, blearily blinking up at their mentor. Baizhu's hand against the feverish skin of their forehead was cold; they couldn't help but lean into the gentle touch. "Bàba?"

He didn't point it out. He hardly even acknowledged their words, as if he were somehow used to it. He only smiled, hand stroking tenderly over their disheveled hair, taming the defiant strands no doubt caused by restless sleep. "So sorry to wake you, dear."

Even Changsheng was quiet—she only hummed thoughtfully from her place around Baizhu's neck. Normally, she'd find something to tease them about (usually because they started it!), but now... she seemed to know that it just wasn't right to tease them in their hazy state of mind.

Gui was quiet, too. He was surprised. He had never heard them address their mentor such an... informal way, let alone with familial terms. He did once briefly think that the dynamic they had with Baizhu was awfully family-like, but...

It was still unexpected.

"Come, now. It's time to take your medicine again, and then you can go back to sleep, okay?"

Gui watched, still silent, as they hummed in absentminded acknowledgement, rubbing their eyes ever so slightly. It didn't seem to help them come to at all; their gaze was still distant and unfocused and they didn't even realize how they addressed the doctor. If they did... they'd probably apologize, embarrassed, but they showed no such emotion. Baizhu gently guided them into a sitting position, rubbing small circles on their back.

Gui handed the cup filled about halfway with herbal medication off to the doctor. Baizhu gingerly guided it to their lips, knowing very well that the guidance was needed; they looked half-asleep sitting up. Archons know they were in no condition to successfully do it themselves. They took the medicine without so much as a whine about its bitterness—they only grimaced slightly after swallowing. Gui supposed that they never really were one to complain about it, even when fully coherent. 'I think it would set a bad example for others if I complained,' they once told him. 'Plus, it's not like Dr. Baizhu gets some kind of sadistic pleasure from giving medication to me, so there's no reason to complain. It's herbal. There's nothing to be done about the taste... I know he doesn't like taking it either. Hehe. It's kind of funny, actually, like we're hiding some kind of company secret. Herbalists who don't like the taste of herbal medicine.'

It was only after he left the room with the doctor that he pointed it out:

"They called you bàba."

"Hm?" Baizhu hummed, turning to Gui. "Oh. Yes... [Name] has done it quite a few times, actually, whether that be because of fever delirium or a slip of the tongue. I don't mind it. It only means that they feel safe enough to be vulnerable here. Qiqi has done it a few times, as well. Those two are only children, so... it is to be expected."

Gui then smiled, nodding. "It's cute."

Baizhu couldn't help but agree, his lips tilting upwards into a little smile himself. "It is."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸 #: [ the junior herbalist! 🌸 ] #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin x reader #platonic baizhu x reader #baizhu x reader #genshin impsct x reader

[andthereyougo]

opening emergency commissions, dm if interested.

Hello there. im trans and disabled.

I'm opening emergency commissions. info of art examples at the bottom, as this is an explanation of what's going on

I have been living in an abusive environment for  a lot of my life at this point, and i can no longer handle living here

i am not allowed to have any privacy at any time. i am not allowed to close any doors at any given time.

i am not allowed to walk outside of the house by myself to go up the street to the gas station or to the store the opposite direction.

i am watched when i open my mail.

i am belittled and ridiculed at my choice of personal care or clothing or haircut.

i am told because i am short and i live here i am basically a child and will not be respected as an adult.

i cannot get the food i need on a regular basis that i can eat with my chronic illnesses and i am discouraged to seek medical care.

i am pretty much disabled (no official paper work) so i cannot retain a retail job, even when i tried i was told i am not allowed because it is 'too far to walk' even though its 15 minutes away

to name some things, i have scoliosis, interstitial cystitis, gastritis, colitis(possibly crohn's), gluten intolerance, a sliding hiatal hernia, binocular double vision, etc and i want to seek some medical care.

my best friend is offering to let me move in with her but it's across the country and i need the money for a ticket and supplies when i arrive.

 there is better medical care where she is at and is willing to help me out with it.

this is the ROUGH cost (price keeps going up by 130 and then back down to this)

i have to make it look like a round trip because otherwise i am not allowed to go. hence the price here.

best friend is offering to pay for half of the ticket. very kind of her, (thanks bestie)

but anyway i need about 600$ in total; this will cover: 

rest of the ticket, supplies for personal care when i move in, a little food, money for cellular data, money towards a tablet to continue making art for money, & any emergency on the way through airport

Funds so far: 450/1000$ updated feb 26 2024

commission info + examples

i take ko-fi and paypal.

all commissions are usually done in my new style, shown on the icons below, with the angled lines. i can do them without, of course, price is the same.

Icons and headshots: 20$

half body: 25$

full body: 30$

background that isnt transparent or isnt a gradient: depends on level of detail. 10-50$

EXAMPLES:

(threw a flatcolor in here at the bottom just to show incase you wanted that too. price will probably be the same.)

#furry #pokemon #commissions #toontown #emergency commissions #trans crowdfund #anthro #comms #commission #signal boost #transgender #comm #toonblr #ttcc #ttr #pkmn

[streaminn]

Gift to you, and celebration of the new trailer for Spider-Man 2 PS5.

Red and blue lights briefly color the monochrome clothes of one Wednesday Addams, as she begrudgingly waits to give her statement to one of the pigs officers on the scene. Some villain of the week decided to take his revenge on one of the basketball coaches in the middle of their semifinals. One ass beating by a certain spider later and the gym stood with minor damages and a bruised idiot. Wednesday wasn’t even supposed to be there, she was trying to get a copy of Yoko’s notes for Enid. (“You know Wednesday, I could’ve just texted these to her. Is this really your best excuse to go see your sick gal pal?”)

Enid had been out of commission for a couple days. She claimed to have a cold, but Wednesday knew she was still recovering from her recent fight with Shocker. The villainess was able to land a good hit, but she still lost in the end when Enid short circuited her gloves…again. Wednesday had been taking notes in her stead, and in this occasion, getting notes for classes she didn’t share with Enid. If this just so happened to also give her a reason to visit Enid, she’d never admit to it.

She watches as Spider-Beast gives Yoko two thumbs up before walking over. “Hel- Hi Ms. Addams,” the Spider says, her voice dropping an octave as she speaks.

“You know my first name, I’ve told you before,” Wednesday replies.

“Right, sorry Wednesday.”

“It’s quite alright.” The Addams looks at her costumed companion, making note that Enid has altered her costume during her recovery (Eventually she’ll learn it’s now shock(er) proof). She notices that the beast seems more jittery than usual. “Something on your mind Spider?”

“What? No, just ya know, totally pumped that I took that guy down.” Wednesday looks into the eyes of the mask, picturing Enid’s beautiful blues behind it, currently on a face with a forced smile.

“Nothing at all?” Wednesday doesn’t want to push, she can always try again when Enid’s out of costume, but it doesn’t hurt to try. She sees the hero relax her shoulders before letting out a short sigh.

“It’s just…I’ve been away on a…business trip, a spider business trip if you will, which meant I was away from…a coworker, a spider coworker.”

“You have coworkers?”

“Spider-coworkers, yes.” Wednesday motioned for her to continue, though she pocketed this coworker nonsense for later use when she herself is suited up, anything to fluster Enid. “Anyways, I’m away from this coworker, hoping they’re okay while I’m gone, and then like a second later they’re in danger at school. Not this school, a different school, coworker was at a school on the other side of town.”

“Of course.” Wednesday really needs to teach her to lie better. “I’m sure they’re fine now, probably waiting to go home as we speak.”

“I know, they’re really tough, but still, I worry. I just always want them to be okay.” Before Wednesday can respond, she’s called over to give her statement. “Looks like I’ll let you go.” As Wednesday gathers her stuff, she turns to the Spider.

“This “coworker” of yours.”

“Spider-Coworker.”

“…Spider-Coworker, maybe you should visit them later. I’m sure they’d appreciate seeing you back from your…Spider-Business trip.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t want to bother them by dropping in unannounced.”

“Shame, because after the day I just had, I believe I would personally appreciate it.”

“…what?”

“In fact, after I give my statement, I’m going to visit my best friend and give her a hug, I’ve been trying to show more affection after all. Plus, I have notes for her classes that she’s missed.”

“Oh wow, haha, that is super cool of you. You should really get on that. I’m gonna go do spider things, keeping the city safe and whatnot. Have a good afternoon Wednesday!”

Wednesday watches as the Spider-Beast shoots two finger guns at her before she thwips away into the skyline. She lets a smirk form on her lips. “See you in a few, Enid.” She can’t wait to see her smile without the mask in the way.

WEDNESDAY IS SO OBVIOUS 😭 and omygod not Enid being clingy yet trying not too and stumbling over her words, I love that

The things Wenclair do to me man.. The signs is so obviously there yet does Enid pick up on it?

No, she's too busy picking up Wednesday, literally

Bet Enid came rushing into Wednesday room and scooped her into a hug after this. Her voice frenzied as she asked how willa's doing because she heard the news

Wednesday will a hundred percent melt into the hold and humm, totally mentioning how it's better since beast stepped in

Enid beams in return and Wednesday knows that she puffed her chest a tad in pride

Cute

#wenclair #Writing #Spider Enid au #Jdwicked

[shslskaterboy]

Hey bestie tell me more about that phantom theives band au👀

(^is enabling again)

Oh my god Al. My best friend Al. I have so many thoughts this is gonna be such an essay I hope you’re Fuckin ready

No seriously this got so long it's basically the bones of a fic, but uh, I'm kind obsessed with it so here we are

First of all, it’s an aged up non-metaverse au, so everyone is like 23~ give or take. Akira, Ann, Yusuke, Haru, Makoto and human Morgana all met in university, Ryuji is childhood friends with Ann, and Futaba met the rest of them through her adoptive brother Akira, and Akechi is the ex-boyfriend that no one ever talks about.

The band consists of singer/front man Akira who does the song writing. He was one of those child prodigy musicians who primarily played piano and violin, but taught himself guitar despite his parents aversion to his favourite genre (which is emo-punk bc it’s not a true James hc without some MCR influence.) The first beginnings of the band were him and Futaba as teenagers since she also played the keyboard, but the Phantoms would not be a realized dream until he met the rest of them in uni.

He meets Morgana and Ann first, the former who can play guitar, and the latter who knows absolutely everyone. When Akira floats the idea of wanting to form a band, Ann is more than happy to rally up her friends Makoto, Haru, and Mishima to fill the spots of bass, second guitar, and drums. Things actually come together very well at first, they start simple with practices and small shows at Crossroads (Akira works nights there and Lala-chan is very supportive of his endeavours) and eventually they start to be able to handle more complex songs. Haru becomes truly incredible at absolutely shredding, Makoto is the pinnacle of sexy bass-player coolness, and Akira is more confident than ever in his songwriting. They even end up commissioning their friend Yusuke to make posters and design a logo for them (he would've done it for free since he was hanging out anyways, but they insisted on compensating him properly)

Unfortunately there is one person who is not very confident, and Mishima ends up quitting the band because he’s worried he’ll weigh them down, leaving them with a rather open gaping hole to fill. The Phantoms have become fairly well established at this point and are pretty popular among the other university students, leaving Akira very worried about finding an adequate replacement- and none of the people they audition seem to be able to keep up.

Luckily, Ann knows a guy.

Akira is hesitant because this guy apparently has no experience playing in a band and is totally self taught, but Ann swears up and down that he’s really good and “please Kira just give him a chance, what’s the worst that can happen?” And so he eventually caves and agrees to have the guy try out, assuming that it will end up in failure just like all the others.

Enter Ryuji Sakamoto to the chat. He’s loud, he’s energetic, he’s covered in tattoos and piercings, he’s arguably obnoxious, and Akira doesn’t want to be impressed but he absolutely is. Ryuji surpasses all his expectations and it drives him fucking crazy because he shouldn’t be this good and yet. And Yet.

So he begrudgingly agrees to have Ryuji join them for their next practice, and decides to throw all of their most complicated songs at him. Make or break. Sink or swim. Either way he’s determined to push Ryuji hard until he cracks and crumbles under the pressure, ultimately proving Akira correct.

What he does not account for is Ryuji’s incredible stubbornness and determination, pushing him to outlast and out-perform each and every time without fail, even in the face of the rather tense relationship building between them.

Or at least Ryuji thinks it's tense, but Akira is starting to crumble himself, and although he is loathe to admit it, their new drummer is growing on him.

Of course in this au Akira is autistic (bc again it wouldn't be a James hc otherwise) and communication is not his strong suit, so he expresses himself in the only way he knows how, which is music. He writes the songs himself and is usually the one choosing which ones they're going to play, and the ones he picks become gradually more emotional and personal to him in hopes that Ryuji is paying attention.

The culmination of this being when Ryuji overhears Makoto questioning his song choices, saying "but don't you think the new guy..." and assumes (understandably so) that they're still questioning his abilities to keep up. He confronts Akira about it, only to be told "you know I write these all myself right? So listen and maybe you'll learn something."

Ryuji ends up feeling awfully foolish when the song ends up being about deeply personal struggles, but Akira doesn't hold it against him- instead inviting him out for ramen after practice so they can have a real conversation that doesn't involve them bitching at each other. He apologizes for being so standoffish, and explains the autism that went undiagnosed for so long, and the fact that his parents kicked him out when he was 16 because they found out he was gay- which is what lead to Sojiro adopting him.

In turn, Ryuji tells him about his father and the Kamoshida incident (resolved in a non-metaverse way obv) and a new understanding is formed between them, which eventually paves the way to a budding friendship. They bond over shared taste in music, video games, anime, the works, and the band becomes stronger than ever.

And it isn't long before group hangouts become one-on-one hangouts. They'll get takeout and go back to Ryuji's apartment to play games- Ryuji always drives and always makes a point of opening the door for Akira- and each time they'll stay together a little later, and linger a little longer in the car before saying goodbye.

The rest of the gang is understandably intrigued by this turn of events, especially since Akira hasn't seriously shown interest in anyone since his big breakup, but Ann The Matchmaker is confident that she can give them both the push they need to take the leap. Ryuji is skeptical about her insistence that he absolutely 100% does have a shot with Akira, meanwhile Akira has come to terms with his feelings for Ryuji but does not know how to express them, so he does what any reasonable person would do: get everyone to go drinking and dancing so he can have a very convenient excuse to get very close. He even remembers to put the snake bites in for this one

(spoiler alert, his plan absolutely works and he does not wake up in his own bed the next day)

And then things are good because of course they are. They're the sun and moon, adhd/autism, they balance each other out, they respect each other, they bring out the best in one another, and for the first time in over a year Akira feels totally at ease.

But of course we have to have an obligatory "oops we ran into your ex-boyfriend in public and now he knows you have a new boyfriend and is being weird about it" scene, where Akechi susses out their relationship and proceeds to be a massive bitch about it. Of course all of it is ire directed at Ryuji and his general appearance/demeanor, which doesn't really bother him because fuck it, he managed to get through high school and is okay now, why would he care what some pompous twink has to say about him? Akira on the other hand is not having it, and Ryuji has to interject before they can have a full-on argument in public.

This run-in prompts Akira to actually talk about his relationship with Akechi- something that he had never done before- and in doing so can finally come to terms with how much it really affected him, and gain some semblance of closure. (Perhaps I will talk about the Akechi relationship in a different post so that this one doesn't end up being 800 miles long)

In the end, this is all a very long and elaborate pegoryu story that I haven't really thought of a proper end for, and was entirely inspired by me listening to music whilst walking my dog and going "ough but imagine emo Akira" which became "imagine emo Akira singing." That coupled with the fact that Ryuji is the most drummer ever, and I found myself with a recipe for a delightful daydream that became so wild the more scenes I imagined and wrote in my head.

Maybe one day I'll try and turn this into something, or at least just a collection of scenes ranging from fluff to angst to, uh, other, if I'm feeling really crazy about it, but yeah, long story short I am absolutely buckwild insane about them and I think about this a lot

#hoo boy #this was a lot #you can see why it took me so long #if anyone wants more details I wouldn't mind sharing tho #but ya gotta ask first #also shuake divorce arc is sooo real to me #i have a lot of thoughts on that too #anyways #pegoryu #persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #ryuji sakamoto #ren amamiya #for posterity #skaterboy answers #and fuck it #skaterboy writes

[hidingoutbackstage]

So now that RvB is over, I'm curious: Which season from the later era of RvB do you think is the worst (Shisno Duology/16-17, Zero/18 or Restoration/19)?

Personally if I had to rank those three, Zero/18 is the worst, then Restoration/19, and then Shisno Duology/16-17. Shisno Duology I think has more redeeming elements (like FINALLY getting a Donut arc and giving Sister depth and moments that showed of Wash and Carolina’s relationship) and even though it had writing elements I really didn’t like (Tucker being more of an asshole, Grif suddenly being a MAJOR asshole for no reason despite the arc he JUST went through in s15, trying to insert gds but actually they’re just AI but they’re the most advanced AI in the world to a stupid degree) it at least tried to give ALL of our main characters something to do, like it felt ooc and annoying at times but it was still THEM and they were still THERE.

The same canNOT be said for Restoration or Zero. Zero I hate the most because it stars an all new cast that they tell us is so cool and we should care about them and take them seriously, but they never show us anything worthy of that, and it also just feels like the creators of Zero watched the Freelancer Saga and took away that fans thought what was interesting was the cool action scenes and how badass these guys were and the emotional conflicts and how they sidelined our main characters. It’s like they didn’t realize that the Freelancers are supposed to be bad people and we were watching to see them eventually fall. As for how Zero treats the three (3) main characters from the og it DOES have, holy fuck is it terrible. Carolina is way undermined and sidelined for these people she should not care about, Wash’s disability was cured in a single throwaway line before he was put out of commission anyway, and Tucker, oh man Tucker. My blood is already boiling. They turned him back into a creep and an asshole, separated him from his team for no reason, KILLED HIM and gave his SUPER IMPORTANT SWORD to some random chick who STILL HAS THE SWORD AT THE END SO FUCK EVERYTHING THE SHOW SAID MADE TUCKER SPECIAL IG.

Sorry. Got heated there. Anyway Restoration is between those two in terms of quality, but it’s still bad. The character writing jumped all over the place, the pacing was atrocious, it felt like they didn’t have enough time to execute the story they were trying to do, while at the same time they wasted so much time. They tried to make Simmons the main character, which doesn’t come across AT ALL, they sideline basically everyone but Simmons, Caboose, Grif, and Sarge, and still don’t really give any satisfying narrative conclusion to any of them. Sarge’s death is stupid, Simmons staying in the army is stupid, Grif retiring and therefore being away from Simmons is stupid, and Caboose doesn’t really get an arc or honestly anything that gives him character, he’s just a plot device. They make Tucker the Meta and framed it as a big important thing in the marketing and then had all the characters act blasé about it, didn’t let anyone who WOULD be impacted by Meta!Tucker, actually get impacted by it, he got 23 total lines in the story, they tortured Tucker for months that felt like YEARS and then didn’t allow him to process any of that HORRIFIC TRAUMA and sent him out of the series with a SEX JOKE. Wash’s B plot was TOTALLY pointless and doesn’t make sense narratively given the end of s13. Donut was given a cameo that was just one more offensive gay joke. I swear the only good thing was the Chex reunion at the very end. It was also poorly made, with the animation looking rlly bad at times, stuff like Caboose’s double knees and the mouse cursor on screen the most notable (but also there was just a lot of the action that looked rough) and as a series ending finale it was a major fucking letdown on pretty much all fronts, but despite all that, it still isn’t worse than Zero. Imagine that.

#sid answers #mutuals #shannon #rvb #restoration spoilers #thanks for the ask! sorry it took a while to answer lol

[kleenex-tissues]

Yours Truly (12)

AO3 here

Ch. 12: Everything’s Coming Up Marinette

When Marinette initially received the commission from Tim Drake, CEO extraordinaire, she expected they would call, have him take some measurements for her, send it in, and an on-site tailor would adjust any issues. That’s what she usually did for overseas clients, but most of her clients were not known for being as eccentric as Tim. She really shouldn’t have been surprised when she received a call from an American number.

Most of the time, she’d ignore unknown callers, but she was on a kick lately for doing things she wouldn’t normally expect and answered the call anyway. She swallowed nervously and drew the phone to her ear, letting out a quiet, “Hello?”

“Ah, yes. Is this Marinette Dupain-Cheng I am speaking to?” English, of course. It was garbled, presumably due to the long-distance, but it was recognizably not her native French. No time like the present to practice. After all, Alya said that real-world application was her best bet to improve her English.

“Yes, this is her. May I ask who’s calling?”

A pause. Then, the voice replied, “This is Tim Drake. I believe I commissioned you for my new suit. I was hoping to set up an in-person appointment for the measurements at your earliest convenience.”

Marinette sat up ram-rod straight. Tim Drake was calling her. THE Tim Drake. He has her number? No, that was definitely listed on her commission page, so this is normal. Wait, did he say in-person? Her back ran cold with sweat.

“In-person, you said?”

She heard a small chuckle on Tim’s end. “Yes, if that is possible. It just so happens that I am taking a few weeks vacation to Paris on holiday. I hoped this way we could do the adjustments in person, as well.”

There was absolutely no way that this was happening. Sure, she worked with celebrities like Jagged Stone and Adrien, but they just so happened to be in her sphere of influence. It wasn’t like they had randomly approached her because they really liked her designs and are traveling over 5,000 kilometers just so she would make them a suit that would be used once. Marinette knew she unconsciously drew celebrities to her, but this was a whole new level. She used to be able to attribute that to a little Ladybug luck, but this? She didn’t think Tikki could affect her luck to this extent.

Marinette hadn’t realized she forgot to answer Tim. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that it took some serious prodding from Tikki to bring her back to the present.

“Oui, oui! Um, yes. That would definitely work. When will you be arriving? We can try to plan your appointment at the beginning of your trip to make sure the adjustment day will fit in before you leave.” Totally nailed that.

Despite their medium of communication, Marinette swore she could see Tim tapping his finger against his chin before consulting his calendar. He was definitely the kind of guy to use a desk calendar.

“My plane lands Friday afternoon,” he said, taking a moment to think over his words. “How does Saturday morning sound?”

“That’s perfect,” she responded with a little too much excitement. After realizing her mistake, she corrected herself. “Sorry, I mean, that would work well.”

Tim laughed. Laughed.

Kwamis, Tim Drake was laughing at Marinette Dupain-Cheng. This day simply could not get any more insane. How did she find herself in these situations?

“Will 10 o’clock work,” Tim asked, a little breathless from his laugh.

Marinette nodded before remembering he couldn’t actually see her. “Yes,” she stumbled. “Can we meet at my home? All my materials are there, so it will probably be easiest. I live above Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie Patisserie on 12 Rue Gotlib. I can send you the address through email if that’s alright.”

“Yes, I would appreciate that. I’ll meet you there at 10 o’clock sharp. Thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Thank you for commissioning me! I will send you that email and see you tomorrow morning.”

“Great. See you then.”

The call ended from Tim’s side with a simple click, and Marinette slid from her desk chair to the floor. Grabbing the nearest piece of fabric, she shoved her face into it and squealed. This was an opportunity that had been beyond her imagination. Not only would this boost her credibility as a designer if Tim liked it, but she would also get to say she knew a celebrity in a whole other country. It felt nowhere near as real as it was. It didn’t even matter if he was as awful as Damian said. She’d surely dress worse people when her company finally kicked off.

The only thing that could possibly make this day better would be for Agreste Designs to finally announce the finalists of the design competition. She had patiently waited the month that had been estimated on the application, but there was only radio silence. Not even Adrien knew what was taking so long, and he lived with the CEO.

She knew Gabriel had been shutting himself away much more often, thus allowing Adrien easier access for sneaking out and landing on her roof clothed in his Chat Noir attire for a late night snack. She found him up there a lot, lounging on her chairs and eating the sweets she often left out for him. The company was nice after a long day. She just wished the circumstances surrounding the visits were better.

There were rumors Gabriel was sick, but with no one ever able to see the hermit of a man, there was little basis for the piece of gossip. Whatever it was that was forcing the man to keep holed up in his office, she just hoped it did not interfere with the contest. She would just wait another week, and then the results would certainly be announced.

Tikki’s giggles brought Marinette back to the present. The kwami found much amusement when her chosen fell into the instances. Plus, this was going to be life changing for Marinette, and Tikki couldn’t be more pleased at her success as a designer. Not just anyone can catch the attention of so many famous clients.

Marinette quickly leaned up to press Tikki into a hug. “This is the best news I have heard all week, Tikki! Really, could this day get any better?”

“I have a feeling you should check your inbox,” Tikki suggested mischievously.

Marinette looked at her kwami with suspicion before standing and moving back into her previous place at her desk chair. She had been so distracted with the call with Tim that she hadn’t noticed the red dot on her mail icon indicating that she had a message waiting for her.

She opened it with the practiced ease of having spoken to Damian so often lately, but she couldn’t help the butterflies dancing in the pit of her stomach as she read the email.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Moving Forward on Communication

Hello Marinette,

It would seem that my efforts at keeping my brothers from seeing our conversations have become ineffectual. Moving forward, perhaps we could seek a new form of communication.

I have never lent my phone number to anyone outside of my immediate family prior to this, but I believe it will be our best chance at avoiding any further snooping on my brothers’ part.

Please let me know if this works for you. Here is my phone number if you would like to begin ‘texting.’

xxx-xxx-xxxx

With hope, Damian

Marinette fainted from the excitement.

–

Three days later, Marinette was waiting rather impatiently by the back door of the bakery. She had sent all the information on where and how to meet her in an email to Tim, and now she just needed him to arrive. It was 9:59 am. Their measurement appointment was at 10, and she was vibrating with nervousness.

She wiped her hands on the slacks she was wearing, hoping that the sweat would simply disappear. She wanted to look as professional as possible, so she dug out some of the best business attire she had sewn in hopes of impressing Tim. Black slacks, a lavender blouse with a fabric tie around her neck, and matching flats. Each piece was designed to look like it would be worn to a formal event, but they were designed for comfort and mobility. Being Ladybug, there was no telling when she would have to jump into action, formal event or not.

Just as the clock on her phone turned to read 10:00, a car pulled up beside the door she stood by. The driver door opened and out came Tim, wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts and smiling brighter than the morning sun.

“Good morning, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he sung cheerfully, moving to greet her. “10 o’clock sharp, just like I said.”

‘Kwamis, what is he wearing? No wonder he needs a stylist,’ Marinette wanted to say. In actuality, she welcomed him with a kiss to both cheeks and responded, “Good morning to you, as well. I appreciate a client who values punctuality like you.”

Tim beamed at her, and she led him inside and up the stairs to her apartment. He had no shortage of small talk; telling her about his flight, his hotel room, and the gala he needed this suit for, all the while she brought him through the apartment door and the hatch leading to her room. In all his talkative excitement, he didn’t seem to notice that he was now standing in the middle of her bedroom as she rummaged through her sewing box. After retrieving her measuring tape, she prodded his arms up into the air.

Tim happily obliged, but continued his rambling. He started talking about Gotham, and how Marinette should visit over the Summer. He has a little brother that’s Marinette’s age, but his favorite is actually his older brother, Jason. They had a bit of a rough patch when Tim was first adopted, but they had grown pretty close in recent years. The best sibling, however, was his sister, Cass, he said. She communicated mostly in sign language, but her laugh lit up a room.

Marinette was entranced by the one-sided conversation, even having to re-measure Tim a few times because she forgot what she was supposed to be writing down. It wasn’t often she met somebody who could hold their own in a conversation like he did. She tried to bring her focus back to the reason Tim stood in her bedroom in the first place.

Shoulder width. Arm length. Hip and waist. In-seam. Every possible place she could measure was measured. She scratched down the results beside the mock design she had made. It was a simple but elegant design on paper, but there were many minute details she wanted to include in the final product. She had to make sure she got this right. The stitching alone would be a feat, so if she could get as close as possible to the proper fit without sacrificing any part of the pattern she envisioned, it would make the process slightly easier.

“Do you have any siblings, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

She tuned back into what Tim was saying, and her pen tripped over the notes she was writing.

“Ah, no. Just me. I have lots of cousins, though, so I never had to worry about being lonely when they came to visit,” she spoke sincerely, but began stumbling a bit as she continued. “And you can just call me Mari. That’s what all my friends do.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile again. Did he do anything other than smile? That’s probably why he was so well-loved in America. Americans always swooned over a good smile.

“I would love that, Mari,” Tim cheered.

His kindness warmed her heart, and she couldn’t help but return the friendly gesture. She then turned back to her desk to pull out her test swatches. Both held similar embroidery patterns, but the colors varied. One was a silk navy fabric with a pale yellow stitching, and the other was red with black stitching.

It was an attempt at mimicking Gotham, Tim’s home and the location of the gala the suit was needed for. Gotham was known for the vigilantes that protected the city’s nightscape. Navy for the deep sky they flew through and pale yellow to match the dancing stars in their domain. The red and black was meant more to be an homage to the various Robins who had served their term.

Marinette held the swatches up to Tim, giving him the chance to view it but also to help her decide which combination would compliment him best. The red did wonders for his skin tone, but the navy brought out the color of his eyes. The decision would have to go to Tim, ultimately.

“What do you think,” she asked politely, moving to the side so he could view the swatches beside him in the mirror.

Tim took a few minutes to consider the decision, posing a few times for added effect. His thinking face brought her a little humor, and she held back her laugh. Finally, he grinned and turned to her, saying, “Definitely the navy. It’s the very essence of Gotham.”

They shared a smile once more before Marinette placed the swatches back on the table. Tim caught her off guard when he spoke again. His voice sounded like he had learned something great as he exclaimed, “I think this is about to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng #batman #maribat #maridami #mlb x dcu #dcu x mlb #batfamily #BatFam #daminette #Damian Wayne #miraculous ladybug #wolfish-writes

[myloveforhergoeson]

i'd love to read some good ol' hockey romance novels but idk where to start lol; would you happen to have any recommendations? (it's totally cool if not!!)

YES OMG ok but something you must understand about me is that all of my book recommendations come exclusively from booktok or instagram so please take this with a grain of salt. i like them dumb, stupid, cliche, and smutty!

i am very new to the hockey romance genre, so i only have two books that i have read as of now to recommend, but i've got three on my to be read list so i can talk about those too <3

the one i just finished is called behind the net by stephanie archer and friend... god... i thought this one was just going to be just like pwp but there was plot and it was good and had me actually shocked something so interesting popped up in this book bc i had expected something completely different. it centers around jamie, a hockey player (goalie) for a fake team called the vancouver storm who trades his life playing for a team in new york to move home and take care of his mother after a series of mental health crises. he's a bit mean, a little arrogant, but he is mostly and above all... say it with me... MISUNDERSTOOD. god i eat this shit up. his counterpart is a young woman named pippa who just got out of a pretty one sided (read: slightly emotionally abusive) relationship with the only guy she'd ever dated. her ex is a pretty famous musician and it's her dream to write and record her own album one day, but after the break up and a little bit of a traumatic experience with her ex and his manager, she's not quite sure that's the right choice for her. she's very sweet, determined, and overall someone i found to be a very interesting character. anyway, she ends up as his assistant, chaos ensues, things happen that i won't spoil, but i enjoyed it very much.

(he calls her songbird a lot and though i do not have the claim on the pet name every time he said it my mind immediately went rames rames rames rames like a dog chasing after a squirrel)

i've got a little journal where i keep track of all the books i'm reading and i gave it a 3/5 stars on quality of writing, 5/5 stars on the strength of the characters, and a 4/5 on the plot. and my own extra rating, 4/5 on the spice scale

also! the author is writing a series that includes other members of the team and some minor characters from the first novel! the next one comes out in a few days and i can't wait to pick it up!

the first book i read out of the hockey romance genre is a book called icebreaker by hannah grace - this one was pretty popular when it came out and many people have many opinions on it. here are my own which are very general because i read it almost a year ago

the summary of the book is a little misleading, the main conflict is supposed to revolve around the captain of a fake college hockey team (nate) and a figure skater (anastasia) who's shooting for olympic gold having to share an ice rink after the one the figure skaters use is put out of commission. long story short, anastasia blames nate, but they're put in a bit of a forced proximity situation that lasts like... five chapters max. the rest is them figuring out their feelings for each other yada yada which is fine and i enjoyed but it was not what i thought the book would mainly be about. so, personal warning there lol. this one is a bit closer to pwp, but both of them have goals they want to accomplish and they help each other through that. i liked stassie a lot and found her to be an interesting character - watching her fall for nate was very sweet and i think i would have enjoyed it even more if i really liked him. he was just kind of mid to me with his only two personality traits being rich and team captain. but also, as a college student myself, i liked the atmosphere of the school they attended, the dynamic between stassie and the other players on the team as she slowly got to know them, and the way both nate and stassie worked to better themselves in order to be with each other!

in my journal i gave the quality of writing 3/5, the strength of the characters a 3/5 and the plot a 2/5 (it would have been 4/5 but i HATED the epilogue. if you read this book do not read the epilogue your life will be so much better without it) and my own special 3/5 on the spice scale

this one is also a series involving the other players on the team! the second book came out a few months ago and i'm planning to read it soon. it's been sitting on my shelf for ages.

i would recommend behind the net over icebreaker, but both were enjoyable to me!

on my hockey romance tbr:

the graham effect by elle kennedy

wildfire by hannah grace

the fake out by stephanie archer

but, i am a well-rounded (romance) reader so if you'd like to know my favs or other books im reading or like reviews just lmk... i'm slowly turning this blog into one where i just share whatever i want instead of it being focused toward my story LOL

#ash talks books #fresh new tag helllll yeah #behind the net #icebreaker

[fleur-de-violette]

Saving the middleman

AO3

Summary:

Dick had offered Barbara to hang out with him and Damian. The afternoon seemed nice until it turned into a kidnapping. Until Dick wouldn’t wake up. Until she and Damian had to cooperate to get all of them to safety.  

Note:

This is my third fic for the DC out of the shadows event, by @holyserverbatman following the prompt: Barbara being badass in her wheelchair. Warning for kidnapping, head injury, fight and Damian’s debatable training. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

-

“Gordon!”

Barbara grumbles and tries to push her pillow on her head. Why is someone waking her up so early? Is that Damian? Why is Damian waking her up?

Why is Damian waking her up? That is not normal. Why doesn’t she remember going to sleep? What happened?

Dick had called her for an outing with Damian. They went to the movies, got ice-cream and then…

A black truck. Too many men to fight off, let alone while keeping their secret. And then…

Nothing.

Bruce is never going to let them hear the end of it.

She blinks. She’s in a cell with Damian just above her. Dick is laying down on the other side. They are all locked up together, but not tied up. Clearly these people underestimate them.

“I’m up,” she says, pushing on her arms to sit down. Without surprise, her wheelchair is gone. She hopes it’s somewhere in the building and not destroyed.

“What happened?” she asks.

Damian looks at her for a second or two before answering, “we were ambushed. I wasn’t dosed with a drug dose as strong as you two, which is why I woke up earlier. I guess they didn’t account for my… resistance to poison.”    

She nods. “Dick?” she asks. He hadn’t moved at all since the beginning of the conversation.

“He took a blow to the head,” Damian explains. “I tried waking him up, but I couldn't.”

She bites her lip nervously. They both know how bad it is. Head injuries have the potential to become really bad really fast, especially on someone who had gotten shot twice in the head. Dick had done miraculously good so far, but the thought that every time his head takes a hit could be the last had been weighing on them for a while now.

She crawls the few feet that separate them to check on him herself. Sure enough, there is blood matting his hair. He’s breathing, which is a relief, even if it’s a little fast to her liking. He doesn’t react when she tries to call him or shake him gently. Not that she was expecting him to, given Damian’s report.

“Father is going to send help,” Damian says. He’s terrified, she realizes. He’s not Robin, not even the grandson of Ra’s Al Ghul, here. He’s just Damian Wayne. Just a child whose big brother and most important person isn’t waking up. Might not wake up for a while, if ever. And this is terrifying.

“Yeah,” she says. “He will.” But this will take time. Time Dick might not have. He needs medical attention, and he needs it now.

“Hey,” she says to no one in particular. “He needs a hospital. You can keep us, but you have to let him go. He’s no use to you dead, isn’t he?”

No answer. She hadn’t seen a camera around, so there is a real possibility that they just let them without any surveillance. Like she thought: underestimating them. With Dick out of commission, they probably think a child and a disabled woman are harmless.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

“We’re going to have to get out of here,” she tells Damian. “We can’t really afford to wait for help.” And by that, she means Dick can’t afford it, but no need to worry Damian any further. Something tells her he understands anyway.

The kid looks at Dick, and then at her, eyes wide. “I can’t carry you both,” he says.

“I promise, you won’t have to.” If it comes to it, she will crawl out of here. But something tells her it won’t. These people underestimate them, but they’re not total idiots. A chair like hers can get them a fair amount of money. They probably kept it as an extra.

She looks at the cell. It’s relatively clean, as far as kidnapping goes. She doesn’t have as much experience as the Waynes in that matter but being the daughter of Gotham’s commissioner, it was always a risk. That, and both Batgirl and Oracle have saved kidnapped kids.

The lock is magnetic. They probably think it’s safer than one with a key, harder to open. They wouldn’t be wrong. It would probably be tougher to open. For anyone other than her, that is. She had seen this kind of lock, twice, while studying some buildings. She’s confident that if she manages to open the small panel on the door, she will be able to open the door.

She leaves Dick with Damian and moves toward the door. She usually has a few knives on her, an old habit from being both the daughter of the commissioner and trained by Batman, but one quick assessment tells her they’ve been taken. Figures. They don’t underestimate them enough to skip the body search.

She resorts to putting her nail in the small opening of the box. It’s glued, not screwed, which is a shame because screws might have been easier.

She curses.

“What is it?” Damian asks.

“I can’t get it open.”

The kid looks at her for a second. “Would a blade be useful?” he finally asks in a small voice.

She bites back a of course it would, trying not to sound too exasperated. Damian is scared, she remembers. And just a child. “They searched me,” she says instead. Surely, they searched Damian, too.

“I, um.” The kid does something with his jaw, and then spit something in his hand. He washes it quickly with his shirt before handing it to her.

She looks at him with wide eyes. It’s a razor blade.

Damian seems very interested in the floor. “They didn’t find this one. Grayson is against me keeping it, but I guess if it saves his life, he won’t mind.”    

She nods slowly, taking the blade. She doesn’t want to know its initial purpose. Knowing the league, she can guess easily enough. She feels nauseous at the mere idea of a kid being trained to keep a blade in his mouth. But, she has to admit, right now, this is useful.

She slips the blade between the two parts of the panel. Looking carefully, there is some kind of map on the wall, but she can’t see it well from where she is. “Once I open the door, we won’t have much time before they find out we’ve escaped. Can I trust you to go find a storage room? That’s probably where my chair is, as well as some weapon. Once I have it, we will gain mobility, not to mention being able to secure Dick on it.”

The kid nods, acknowledging her words like a soldier. Something tells her he’s used to even less details on the plan. Working with Batman will do that to someone.

Finally, the box snaps open in her hands. Good. One quick look tells her the nature of the lock: she will be able to open it.

She’s proud to say she had steady hands. Even in situations like this, she keeps her hand steady enough so that she can make fast and precise movement around the wires.

Damian’s eyes are piercing on her, watching her. He’s preparing for the next step, but this is not only that. She knows that look, she’s often the one who has it on her face. He’s learning. And she knows him: he will learn fast. Fast enough to be the next Oracle, if he’s willing.

But she gets the thought out of her head, for now. The door snaps open, and they have to think fast. With the help of the cage’s bar, she gets herself out so that she can properly see the map. Damian on her toes.

“Here,” she says, showing a room on the map. “That should be it.”  

Damian looks at her for half a second, probably more time than they can afford to lose, his eyes expressing what he doesn’t say. He trusts her. To take care of Dick while he’s aw           ay. To lead him to the right room. To get them out of here. And she’s not going to betray that trust.

Then, he nods, and he disappears in the shadows.

She grinds her teeth. A bad habit, she knows. But waiting is hard, and she doesn’t have access to cameras to look out for Damian, here. She moves back in the cell, next to where Dick is still laying. He had not moved at all during the opening of the door. Thankfully, he’s still breathing in the same way he did when she first woke up. There is not much to do here: the blood on his scalp is already dry, and she has no way to help him without a hospital. She needs to trust Damian. He’s good, well trained, and competent. He will be back.

So, she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Time stretches indefinitely, but really, she knows it’s probably only minutes later that Damian appears, pushing her chair in. She lets out a sigh of relief when she realizes it isn’t damaged.

“I couldn’t find the rest of our stuff,” he says. So, no phones or weapons. She wasn’t really counting on it. “They must have taken them to the second floor. I didn’t see anyone either. They just left us in this basement.”

Underestimating them again. This is good. “Good thing we don’t plan on going up. See this large room? That’s a garage.” At least she hopes so. “We’re getting a car and we’re getting out of here.”

Damian nods. “I also found this,” he says, showing a large kitchen knife on his belt. “Not my first choice of weapon, but better than nothing.”

She nods as she gets herself in the chair. “Help me secure Dick on me.”

Damian looks at her with wide eyes. “I can-”

“I need you to clear the path in front of us. It’s safer this way.”

Right now, it’s probably easier for her to carry a -the word feels wrong in her head – dead weight than it is for Damian.

If she had the choice, she probably wouldn’t have moved him without a stretcher, but they really don’t have that kind of luxury. So, instead, they secure him on the chair, his head on her shoulder, and hope they’re not doing more harm than good. But worry takes time, time they don’t have. Their captors might not be on the same level they are right now, but it doesn’t mean they won’t find out they escaped sooner or later. She hopes later, preferably after they are long gone, but she knows that, in that kind of situation, hope is a dangerous thing.

They start moving toward the garage. Despite carrying Dick, she’s still able to move fast enough to keep up with Damian, even if she suspects he’s not at his maximum running speed.

Things are going well.

Things are going great.

Up until there are voices behind them.

Damian turns, but she signals him to keep running. He does. They can outrun them. They will outrun them.

Until they reach the door of the garage, and it becomes clear they won’t. 

Barbara breaks. Apparently, the men weren’t expecting that. She tosses her head backward, and she’s satisfied when she hears something crack, followed by a bunch of curses. She doesn’t dwell on it. She knows she can’t fight them all; not without risking Dick’s health. Besides, she has another job to do. The garage door isn’t going to open itself.

Damian seems on the same page, because they switch places, and she can see him getting the kitchen knife out from the corner of her eyes.

She trusts Damian to handle the fight. Instead, she focuses on the code that is locking the garage door. It seems like these guys rely a lot on technology. And this is, indeed, good technology. But, as an expert in tech, she knows one thing: relying too much on it is dangerous. Because there is always someone better than you that can turn your system against you. In that case, the better person is herself.

The door opens and she takes Damian’s shoulder to pull him with her inside the garage before it shuts again. It can’t be opened with the code anymore. She used a simple trick, but it might buy them some time. Not much, unfortunately.

She moves toward a black SUV that doesn’t resist much before it’s opened and hot-wired.

“You drive,” she tells Damian as she secures Dick in the passenger seat. She doesn’t miss the half smile that covers his face. The knife is gone, he’s got blood spots on his hands and the beginning of a bruise is forming below his left eye. She guesses he needs the win.

Just as she shuts the door after getting herself in, the garage door opens. Damian starts the car, and she stretches out of the window to push the emergency opening exit. And then, they’re on their way to freedom. The top of the car scratches on the door, Damian driving way faster than he normally should. But they’re free.

Unfortunately, freedom is hard to win, and hard to keep. Soon, there are multiple cars racing behind them.

Their captors aren’t letting them get away so easily.

“Focus on the road,” she tells Damian as she starts rummaging in the car for anything that can help. It takes her a few seconds to get her hands on a toolbox.

Good enough. She still trains regularly to throw batarangs. Screwdrivers are almost the same things. She looks inside the box. There are three cars behind them, and three screwdrivers. She can’t miss. The good thing is: she trained with Batman. Messing up had never been an option for her.

She opens the window, knowing she doesn’t have much time to aim. If they have guns, they will try to shoot her the second she gets out.

But she’s Oracle. She’s been Batgirl. And she’s fast.

She aims, launches, and feels satisfaction crawling on her spine when the first car makes an emergency stop, one of its tires exploding. Good. Minimal risk of death or injury for these guys, but they won’t be able to pursue them.

The other two cars soon follow the first one, and she finally allows herself to breathe. “Now, get us to the hospital,” she says. They are not far from Gotham, so she assumes Damian knows where he’s going. She won’t be able to truly relax until they reach Gotham’s general, and Dick is out of danger.

If she’s honest, she might not be able to relax until she’s positive the men who took them are safely locked up.

They haven’t made a few miles when they start hearing sirens. Damian curses.

“Pull over,” Barbara says. “They won’t hurt us.”

At least she hopes. Surely, her father’s influence extends here as well.

“Get out of the vehicle,” one of the policemen says.

“Listen,” Barbara tries. “We can explain everything, but you need to escort us to the hospital.”

“Yeah, right, you’ll explain why you have a kid driving and a corpse in the passenger seat on our way to the station.”  

Damian opens his mouth, and she cuts him before he can antagonize the cops. “Look,” she doesn’t exactly like pulling that lever but, “my name is Barbara Gordon. I’m the daughter of commissioner James Gordon. Surely, you’ve heard of him. You can call him to check my story, but if one of you has ever been in his office, you’ve seen my face on the framed pictures he has. The two people here,” she waves her hand toward the front seats, “are Dick Grayson-Wayne and Damian Wayne, first and last sons of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. What do you want? Do you want to escort us to the hospital, or do you want to explain to James Gordon why you arrested his daughter and to Bruce Wayne why you denied his son potential life saving treatment?”

“Is that a threat, young lady?” the man asks.

“No, that’s fact. Please. His life might be in danger. You’re in this to help people, right? Take us to the hospital.”

The policemen seem to think about it for a few minutes before coming back.

“Right,” one of them say. “I guess it’s safer not to move him, so I’m going to drive the vehicle and my colleagues will escort us with the police cars.”

Barbara sighs. “Thank you,” she says as Damian reluctantly steps out of the driver’s seat to go sit next to her. The knowledge that they might not have been that kind if she hadn’t mentioned Bruce and her father tastes bitter in her mouth.   

She wonders how Damian would take physical affection from her. He sits very still, eyes on Dick, and she thinks he looks in need of a hug. If Dick was in her place, he would half hug him and tell him everything would be alright. But she’s not Dick, and her relationship with Damian isn’t the same.

“It’s okay,” she still says in a low voice. “He will be fine.”

“Yes,” Damian replies, not taking his eyes off Dick. “I know.”  

Everything happens too fast and too slow at the same time from there. They reach the hospital and get separated. Barbara gives her father’s number and Bruce’s number several times before giving her statement. Again, several times. A doctor examines her, but she’s fine, beside a few bruises and traces of the drug that have yet to leave her bloodstream. She asks about Dick, but they can’t tell her anything. If only she had a moment alone, she could hack into the hospital computer or get access to the camera, but she seems to be constantly swarmed by people.

She finally gets to call her dad, who tells her Bruce is already on his way to the hospital and asks if she needs him, or if he should focus his efforts on finding the kidnappers. She tells him she’s fine and promises to spend the day with Bruce and Alfred to ease his worries.  

She also wants to track the kidnappers. And she knows Batman, with Oracle’s help, will have them locked up tonight, should her father fail. While she’s more comfortable in the clocktower, she can work from the cave.  

She’s just getting in a corridor when she spots Damian. Band-Aids are on his face, as well as on his arms, and he had changed clothes. He turns when she calls out.

“Grayson is still in surgery,” he says when he sees her. “Father is talking with the doctors.”

She nods. And then, out of impulse, she does what she didn’t do in the car. She takes his arm and pulls him toward her. He let himself go, getting easily in the hug in a way she hadn’t expected.  

The Damian she first met would never have let her do that. But now, he clings to her for a few seconds before letting go.

“You did good,” she says. “You were very brave.”

Damian nods. “You were impressive too,” he replies, looking at the ground. “I knew you were strong, but this was… you were impressive.”

She smiles. Not unlike his father’s, Damian’s compliments are hard to earn.

She doesn’t have time to reply before she can see Bruce coming toward them.

“Barbara,” he greets her. “Are you alright?”

She nods, and he sighs, with the face of a very very tired man he sometimes has. “Damian told me what happened. Thank you.”

She stops for a second. Did he just thank her? She nods slowly. “Anytime,” she says before thinking twice about it.

“Well,” she adds after reflection. “Hoping there won’t be a next time.”

Bruce gives her a sad, half smile. Maybe one day, when Dick will be better and they would go out for ice cream again, they would be able to laugh about it.

For now, they are alive, and they are safe. She keptthem safe.  

And maybe there will be a next time, after all. But for now, they are safe.  

#dc #batfam #fanfiction #my writing #barbara gordon #damian wayne #BAMF barbara gordon #BAMF damian wayne #hurt dick grayson #dcoutofshadows

[pesterloglog]

Vrissy Maryam-Lalonde, Harry Anderson Egbert, Aradia Megido, Sollux Captor, Jade Harley, Karkat Vantas, John Egbert, Dave Strider

Candy, page 27

VRISKA: What took you so long????????

HARRY ANDERSON: hey, give me a break here vris. my auntie has guards breathing down my neck day and night.

VRISKA: Ugh. How’d you get out this time?

HARRY ANDERSON: fucking gamzee.

HARRY ANDERSON: he was all like:

HARRY ANDERSON: Yo HaRrY mY dAwG, yOu Go OuT aNd GeT yOuRsElF uP a SlIcE oF tHaT pRiMe BeEf VrIsKeT, mY oNe TrUe HoMiE. lOvE iS wHaT mAkEs ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg EaRtH sPiN oN iTs AxIs. ThAt, AnD bEiNg PoLiTiCaLlY nEuTrAl, BrOtHeR.

HARRY ANDERSON: god! he always makes sure to point out that he’s politically neutral in literally every sentence that comes out of his mouth, even though he’s *definitely* still fucking my aunt.

VRISKA: Ugh, so l8me.

VRISKA: This is all so l8me!!!!!!!! All in all, such a Deeply Unsatisfactory state of affairs!

HARRY ANDERSON: yeah. i hate sneaking around like this. i wish i could see you every day.

HARRY ANDERSON: or even, like, tell my mom that i have a girlfriend so she can stop pestering me about it.

VRISKA: In thaaaaaaaat case...

VRISKA: Why don’t we run aw8y and join the rebellion together, Harry Anderson? Wouldn’t that be Terribly Rom8ntic????????

VRISKA: We could be wild rebels in love, like Karkat and Meenah!

VRISKA: Isn’t their story GR8? I get so inspired thinking about it.

HARRY ANDERSON: oh, i don’t know if i could pull that off vriska... i don’t really have the, y’know, rebellious *stature* of someone like karkat vantas.

VRISKA: Pffft, ahahahahahahahaha. He’s Extremely Short in real life, you know!

HARRY ANDERSON: i don’t know if that’s actually true? i think it might just be something people assume because of, y’know, his personality. like he’s overcompensating or something.

HARRY ANDERSON: i mean, i don’t *remember* him being that short.

VRISKA: Oh yeah? The last time you saw him you were like three years old. Get real, Harry Anderson!

HARRY ANDERSON: oh? and when’s the last time *you* saw him?

VRISKA: ...

HARRY ANDERSON: ha ha! :p

HARRY ANDERON: oh my god, vriska, you always talk so big but you’re not any more of a rebel than i am!

VRISKA: Oh shuuuuuuuut up. You don’t know shit, Harry.

VRISKA: My moms are totally gonna get me a Prime Commission in the Resist8nce when I turn sixteen!!!!!!!!

HARRY ANDERSON: yeah yeah, whatever you say.

VRISKA: It’s TRUE!

VRISKA: But until then, guess we’ll never know whether it’s an official f8ct that Karkat is short or not.

HARRY ANDERSON: i guess so!

HARRY ANDERSON: but anyway i wasn’t talking about his height. i was talking about the eyepatch.

HARRY ANDERSON: i mean, i believe in troll rights and everything...

VRISKA: Um, I should HOPE so.

HARRY ANDERSON: ...but not enough to lose an eye over it.

VRISKA: Don’t be ridiculous Harry.

VRISKA: If we really do end up absconding from our mediocre Hot Teen Lives to become rebels, then OBVI8USLY I’m going to be the one with the Extremely Dashing And Sexy eyepatch. H8h8h8h8h8h8h8h8!!!!!!!!

ARADIA: hmm its getting pretty bad down there

SOLLUX: wh0 cares.

SOLLUX: this is 0fficially s0mething we d0n’t care ab0ut, right?

ARADIA: i dont know

ARADIA: is it

JADE: this world is inconsequential.

ARADIA: well there you have it

ARADIA: karkats really going to fight that war isnt he

SOLLUX: yeah.

SOLLUX: i didn’t think he had it in him, but apparently all it takes f0r him t0 bec0me the her0 he was meant t0 be was f0r things t0 get extremely fucking stupid.

SOLLUX: like, WAY m0re stupid than usual.

ARADIA: yes

ARADIA: it really is too bad hes reaching this heroic apotheosis of his in a world that doesnt matter

JADE: please do not mistake the essence of my words for indifference.

JADE: when i said that this world was inconsequential, i was talking objectively. we’ve moved far beyond the realm of canon relevance, but on a subjective level we can view this world as a glass bubble.

JADE: fragile, solitary, with a surface uncracked.

JADE: the actions, struggles and feelings of its inhabitants are certainly not inconsequential to them.

JADE: while abstracted heavily, and fully freed from all forces of narrative gravity, these events still represent possibilities that slept within the hearts of all who reside here.

ARADIA: hm

ARADIA: in that case i guess we should keep watching

KARKAT: HI AGAIN IDIOT.

JOHN: what are you doing standing out here alone like a creep?

KARKAT: I REALLY SHOULDN’T BE HERE.

JOHN: why not? you were on the guest list.

KARKAT: OH, HMM, I DON’T KNOW. MAYBE THINK ABOUT IT FOR TEN SECONDS, JOHN.

JOHN: i guess this would probably be pretty hard to watch if you were still, you know, all heartbroken about it.

KARKAT: I WOULDN’T SAY THAT I WAS STILL “ALL HEARTBROKEN” ABOUT IT.

KARKAT: BUT...

JOHN: but?

KARKAT: IT’S JUST THAT BREAK UPS ARE HARD, AND OFTEN HAVE UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES THAT CAN LINGER FOR YEARS.

JOHN: you’re telling me. when my wife left me, she took an entire political faction with her.

JOHN: those chess guys sure do love roxy, don’t they?

KARKAT: UGH.

KARKAT: YEAH, THE CARAPACIAN-HUMAN ALLIANCE HAS BEEN CAUSING US NOTHING BUT PAIN TO BE ENTIRELY FUCKING HONEST.

KARKAT: NO ONE WANTS TO BE AGAINST THE *CARAPACIANS*. THEY’RE HARMLESS.

KARKAT: THE FACT THAT THEY DIDN’T EVEN GET TO VOTE ON WHETHER OR NOT THEY SHOULD RATIFY THE TREATY REALLY COMPLICATES THE MATTER. THE WHOLE THING IS A DISASTER ON JUST ABOUT EVERY LEVEL.

JOHN: oh. sorry about that.

KARKAT: OH MY GOD JOHN, STOP BEING SO FUCKING PATHETIC FOR JUST A MINUTE. COULD YOU DO THAT FOR ME?

JOHN: i don’t know. that’s a pretty big favor you’re asking me there, karkat.

KARKAT: LOOK, I DON’T PERSONALLY BLAME YOU FOR ANY OF THIS.

KARKAT: FIRST OF ALL, FOR YOU TO HAVE HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH A MASSIVE SHIFT IN GEOPOLITICAL ALLEGIANCES?

KARKAT: THAT PROBABLY WOULD HAVE REQUIRED YOU LEAVE YOUR FUCKING HOUSE FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR.

JOHN: wow.

JOHN: good pep talk.

JOHN: i’m 100% over my separation now. thanks karkat.

KARKAT: JOHN, SERIOUSLY THOUGH.

KARKAT: YOU DO HAVE TO GET OVER ROXY EVENTUALLY. WITH EVERYTHING THAT’S GOING ON, CAN YOU REALLY AFFORD TO WASTE ANOTHER FIVE YEARS MALINGERING IN YOUR BEDROOM LIKE A PIECE OF FUCKING GARBAGE?

KARKAT: YOU KNOW

KARKAT: THE REBELLION COULD REALLY USE A GUY LIKE YOU.

JOHN: if you think that i haven’t been given the exact speech you’re about to give me, except about six or seven times the length, then you don’t know rose lalonde.

KARKAT: OK. THEN WHAT’S THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

KARKAT: YOU HATE WHAT THE GOVERNMENT IS DOING AS MUCH AS THE REST OF US DO!

JOHN: i dunno. it doesn’t seem responsible, really... to dedicate my life to something so important when i’m in a place where i can’t even find the energy to think that getting out of bed in the morning is “important.”

JOHN: in fact, it seems like it would be a pretty fucking selfish thing to do.

JOHN: what if i get distracted because i’m sad?

JOHN: what if i fuck up by staring too tragically into the distance on an important mission, and i get killed in a stupid way?

KARKAT: JOHN, AREN’T YOU TECHNICALLY IMMORTAL *SPECIFICALLY* IN CASES OF “GETTING KILLED IN A STUPID WAY”?

JOHN: yeah. but you aren’t. and neither are most of your followers.

KARKAT: OH SHIT.

KARKAT: HERE COMES DAVE. I HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.

DAVE: no john dont do it

JOHN: huh? don’t do what?

DAVE: oh you looked pretty bummed when you left the reception and then i find you staring at the ocean like you just snorted six lines of powdered midlife crisis off the bathroom counter

DAVE: so i guess “the joke” was like

DAVE: haha dont literally commit suicide at my wedding dude lol

DAVE: not to commit suicide at my fucking wedding is pretty obvious

DAVE: but in retrospect i guess its not that funny

DAVE: but seriously john dont kill yourself

JOHN: i wasn’t going to kill myself!

DAVE: id miss you and also itd bum out jade pretty bad and i have so thoroughly hitched my star to that yifftrain in case you havent noticed

JOHN: yifftrain?

DAVE: yeah man you see she-

JOHN: i don’t wanna know!

JOHN: anyway, i was just, uh...

JOHN: ...appreciating how pretty the view is.

DAVE: hm yeah i love the sight of the military industrial complex destroying the landscape in the evening

JOHN: come on, that’s obviously not what i meant.

JOHN: you okay, dude?

DAVE: eh

JOHN: having been married once before, i gotta say... it’s all kind of overwhelming, huh?

DAVE: oh

DAVE: yeah i guess

DAVE: i dunno jade and i have been together so long this all just feels like

DAVE: whatever

DAVE: i was sort of hoping that

DAVE: i mean considering that were working together in the rebellion and everything

DAVE: i was hoping that karkat would show

JOHN: oh...

JOHN: so you’re still not... um, over that?

JOHN: the whole karkat thing?

DAVE: i mean will i ever be over it??

DAVE: the way i felt about him probably isnt the kind of shit you just get over

DAVE: you just sorta

DAVE: live with it

DAVE: no matter how it turns out

DAVE: but hes with meenah and im with jade and the whole worlds gone fucking batshit so whats the point in looking backwards now

DAVE: right?

JOHN: right.

DAVE: right

DAVE: yo dude thanks for being my best man

JOHN: *cough* oh. th-thanks, man. no problem!

DAVE: cuz you are

DAVE: ya know

DAVE: youre my best bro

DAVE: my main man

DAVE: my most devoted dude

DAVE: cheers john

JOHN: cheers, dave.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #vrissy maryam lalonde #harry anderson egbert #aradia medigo #sollux captor #jade harley #karkat vantas #john egbert #dave strider #candy epilogue #page 27 #alt calliope

[shoehedd]

So fucking long 2023!

o7

This year was super hard. We lost our home after the winter eviction ban ended. We had plenty of notice and started saving for a home and got stuff together for a mortgage app last year. Which is when we discovered my boss wasn't paying any tax at all. (here your employer pays your income tax on a weekly or monthly basis, it's handy because you don't have to file yourself... as long as your employer isn't on the take).

It wasn't the best news.. it led to a lot of bullshit. The boss, she tried to get me to quit, went on a full offensive. Suddenly I was shite at my job, I had extra work, I wasn't allowed leave despite being there voluntarily for 0 pay some days, I was barred from doing commission work while in the shop (again despite being unpaid and not under contract), she took my desk away, and a heap of other things. The boss stopped speaking to me for weeks at a Time, she'd take clients away from me, she would order replacement gear that was incorrect, she complained that I took 4 days off (unpaid again) to move my stuff out of the apt and into storage. She told me I should sleep in my storage unit, she got blood on my table and some of my gear and I had to throw it all out, shed often berate my clients for showing up early, write their appointments on the wrong days or the wrong times or not at all or at times, triple book a slot. All because I had the nerve to bring this to her and say "hey this is your responsibility to put right, please do the right thing for all of us".

That's when the gaslighting started, she"d always, apparently, been totally upfront with how much fraud she was going to commit on our behalf. Fuck off.

It was a dark time. I just needed to save enough to leave. I had a tentative brush with a bigger shop in the city, but it didn't work out. Self esteem was gone. Stopped drawing entirely, stopped programming. Real dark night of the soul shit. I was quickly losing options, and hope. People were getting sick of me. Every waking g minute was spent in agony. Obsession, anger and betrayal, failure and defeat. My future disappeared, id wasted 10 years if my life, my career was over, my home was gone, my savings were illegitimate, my pension, I don't even want to think of my public pension, probably not happening.

I was left to sort my own taxes. Paying late fees can really fuck you over. I've experienced that now. lucky me! Looking that scumbag in the face every day after that was a crash course in self control.

Anyway, so the boss couldnt keep it between just me and her and lashed out at the entire staff. Eventually my apprentice piercer walked out. It wasn't warning enough for the boss so she continued. Eventually she fucked over our tattoo artist and apprentice, got called on it and started freezing her out too. for a period of time she would ONLY COMMUNICATE WITH THE TATTOO APPRENTICE AND NO OTHER STAFF MEMBER. So the artist quit. And seeing as the artist was teaching the apprentice, she also left. Which left me alone with her. FOR MONTHS

more dark night of the soul goes here.

But this is where my story looks up, lads. See the 3 of us were conspiring. We know how to run a shop together, between the 3 of us. And so the plan was put in motion. 2 weeks after she quit the artist was jn her own brand new studio, 3 weeks later the apprentice had arrived. And then finally, finally, after ten years of working in the shop, in November I handed in my notice. 100% staff attrition in 2023, every single employee had left.

I'm renting a spot in that same new studio now. Been 5 weeks so far and... well I make less money atm, but we are hoping people find out we've all gone and come over. We're in the same town which is apparently a fucked up thing to do but.. now I think about it, the person who told us that was that scumbag ex boss of ours.

I'm drawing again, which you can probably tell from following this tumblr. I'm programming again. I have shower thoughts about OCs and monster design instead of hopeless, desperate plotting or seething anger. My mind is healing. I've also stopped bloating horribly and I haven't had an anxiety attack all month.

Good news :D. Thanks to me finally sorting the tax situation myself we finally applied for the mortgage. Results soon, so here's hoping. I'm staying with my wife in my parents house, who have been very kind to us. My wife, after years of us trying is now pregnant with our first baba. A boy. Due in February, so after setting up the business we are prepping for him. There's a lot of work to be done, but after floundering for years and, imo actively drowning for most of 2023 I can finally say things are actually hopeful now. We might still be able to rebuild both of our lives after this fucked up person just kind of... arbitrarily decided to fuck it up for her own benefit and hoped we wouldn't find out.

2024 is gonna be weird and hard, but I'm looking forward to it.

If you've read this far thank you. It was a stupid year. It was a painful year. And now it's fucking OVER.

#personal

[chronal-anomaly]

Okay hi some irl stuff below

I've been lurking for a little while while I get my head screwed back on straight. It has been a WEEK.

So on Easter, I was driving across the state heading back to school when my truck started shaking, making a horrible racket and the check engine light came on. Now, it's an old truck ('03 ford ranger), so it's not the first time this has happened. I managed to limp it to a local auto shop that was open, they read the codes, and spat back error in the cylinder. At first, I believed it to be a simple fix, likely the coil pack or the spark plugs I replaced last summer failed, no biggie.

Unfortunately, it was catastrophic engine failure. The truck's totaled.

Which is too bad, because that truck has been closer than some of my family these past 6 years. I've personally rebuilt a lot of it - it's what got me interested in working on cars. It's taken me across the state, into other states, through 2 years of high school, 4 years of undergrad, and a year of grad school. With 250k miles on it, I wish I could say I was surprised, but she was a good old beast. There's potential for fixing it, but it depends on how much time, energy and money I want to put into doing a total 1-1 motor swap on it. Not the point, but it's a potential.

That then snowballed into a dozen of other bad days. I was borrowing a car for the time being ( again, being 300 miles away from any family or loved ones, I needed a car ), that then was towed because I didn't have a parking pass on it for one night. I had a lamp crash down on my head and shatter glass everywhere. I have exams, and final projects, and patient discharge reports. Pretty much everything that could have gone wrong this past week, did.

The good new is, life is starting to finally stable out. My exams are next week, then I have a week off before the summer semester starts. I landed my fall internship. My research projects are starting to take off. And I'm about to make it through my first year of grad school!!!

Anyway, my point of writing this is to kinda screw my head back on straight, and provide little updates about where I've been. Ultimately, I'm safe, my loved ones are safe, and I had to say goodbye to a good, good car. It seems silly to be emotional over a car, but I am, and it's been a weird mourning process. Giving myself lots of grace lately. I may consider doing writing commissions to help pay for towing/auto shops/literally everything else, so keep an eye out for that.

Love you all. Take care of yourself. I'll be around a little bit here and on discord, come chat with me about your muse and your day.

#Nothing major just trying to duct tape my head back together #but ultimately everyone is safe and healthy (except Betsy but I'm not that surprised #she was a 20 year old pickup that I used as a daily) #still sad but yknow #( ooc. ) #ask to tag