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godsfavoritescientist · 10 months

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Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.

I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.

Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?

How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"

And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.

So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.

So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.

And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.

And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.

Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.

And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.

So you sail away in a boat together.

And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.

But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.

But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.

You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.

And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-

-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.

You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.

And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.

It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.

And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.

#succumbed to the stan twins angst visions and wrote 2000 words about this #ford pines #ford meta #this turned into a character analysis that almost reads like a fic #godswriting #<- i need to change my writing tag to this #something bothers me a little bit about the solution to their conflict being 'ford appreciates stan more now so he is now fine with-#-boat adventures with stan'. to me it leaves the initial conflict of 'he doesnt want to do that anymore' unresolved #obviously you could easily argue that ford never stopped wanting to go on boat adventures with stan and he just couldnt justify it to-#-himself when compared to the opportunity at west coast tech. but that has one less layer of conflict #compared to the possibility that he truly was not interested in boat adventures anymore. ESPECIALLY if its a manifestation of him #feeling suffocated by the whole dynamic-twins-duo thing #its normal to start wanting a little bit more space especially at that age. to want to have space to figure out who you are #the healthy thing would have been them talking about it and figuring out a compromise. like 'when ford needs space he can spend a few hours #-alone without stan being worried the whole time that it means ford hates him' and 'we still spend x amount of time working on the boat and #-we still chat on the way to and from school every day and hang out at the beach on weekends'#like of fucking course it was never about hating stan or about wanting to get away from him because of who he is as a person!#he literally just wanted to have a little bit of breathing room to be his own separate person. he just didn't know how to put it into words #I really think the crux of it all was them not knowing how to navigate that balance between independence and identity while staying close #so ford misattributing/reducing that feeling to 'I dont have the exact same dream as stan anymore. why does he still have that dream. oh no #feels like a good way of giving that conflict a tangible aspect to it thats easy for the stans to point at and talk about as a way of-#-alluding to the REAL core of the conflict between them.#and of course the show never says 'they sail around the world for the rest of their lives 24/7' so it's not like it Actually Conflicts with #-my interpretation of the conflict and how it should be resolved. but since its the last thing we see happen between them when theyre given #their happy ending. I feel compelled to say 'hey I know them living in the shack together and traveling in a boat every single year sounds-#-really fun and like a satisfying ending but I think they should have a Little Bit more space from eachother than that. Hanging out almost-#-daily but not literally being in the same house and same boat for the rest of their lives. bc if stan was ok with ford asking for that-#-little bit of space and if ford didnt panic and isolate himself from everyone whenever he needs like one hour of alone time? that would-#-feel like a big piece of the puzzle fitting into place for their conflict resolution and growth as characters. to me #and I think they deserve to have all the tied-up-loose-ends and resolved-conflicts and character-growth in the world.

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cult-of-the-eye · 5 months

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Guys i'm working through my issues by writing hurt/comfort jmart fics i'm putting these bitches in situations that are forcing them to confront their trauma i am a GENIUS

#paris look away i'm about to overshare on the internet #i've been through a bunch of therapists and been given so many ways of working through stuff #but i've hated pretty much every single way #i've only been able to work through stuff if i figure it out all by myself #and yeah its not breathing exercises or writing a fucking letter #but by god it works #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin k blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #tma fics #jmart fics #hurt/comfort

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theearlgreymage · 6 months

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Despite having written close to 25k words this month, I have been SLACKING on making any type of "Six Sentence Sunday" or "WIP Wednesday" Posts. Partially because my NaNoWriMo Project is a secret gift. Partially because I have been cursed by an eldritch deity and never know peace.

Anyway. To each and every one of you who continues to tag me - you're gems. Sweethearts. Sparkles of Light on my bad days. I love and appreciate each of you, even if I do it silently from my little corner of the world.

Setting the emotions aside now.

Here are as many sentences as I feel like sharing from my project. Because I've been quiet lately and ya'll deserve more than just six measly sentences for not abandoning me. (And if you're from the CO Fandom, know that I'm coming back to all my SnowBaz WIPs as soon as I finish this beast)

An Excerpt from Chapter XI

As I finish Erwin’s request, I level my gaze back on him. Finding his eyes with my own, there’s a look, an intensity, in them that leaves my mouth dry. There’s a question flying in the blue of his irises, a curiosity that I want to sate. What does he want from me? Swallowing, I lean forwards in my seat. Propping my elbows on the table, even though Erwin told me that proper nobles keep their elbows off the tops of tables and desks. “How much of this is true?” Erwin’s eyes flash at my question, and he leans in himself. Bringing our heads close enough together that I can smell the tea and cream from breakfast on his breath. “What do you think?” “I think I’m not being told everything,” anything, “and that’s on purpose.” Apparently, that was the right thing to say as Erwin grins at me. And again, I’m struck with how much he reminds me of that boy who’s name I can’t recall. Brilliant white teeth and pink lips that soften his angular face. The sight stirs something reminiscent in my gut. I’m half tempted to ask Erwin if he feels it too, if I remind him of someone from his own childhood. But before I can gather the courage to potentially make a fool of myself if I’m wrong, Erwin is asking more questions of me. “And why would they do that? Why not tell you, tell everyone the truth?” “The same reason anyone avoids the truth, because they have something to hide.” It’s an easy answer. One of the first lessons that Kenny taught me. Everyone has something to hide, and if you can find that truth in an individual you can best them every time. “Exactly,” Erwin agrees with me as he pushes the books we’ve been studying away from us. “So what could the royals and nobles be hiding from us?” At that, I’m stumped and shrug my shoulders. Erwin deflates with me, almost like he was expecting me to actually have the answer to that question. He does think I’m a noble, maybe the idiot thinks I have some secrets. It wouldn’t shock me to discover that he wants to use me for something. He’s clearly working against the nobility in some regard, and I’m sure having a noble on his side could be beneficial. But if he thinks I’m going to be some grand advantage, he’s surely mistaken. I’m nothing more than a good fighter and decent thief. “I think we’ve covered enough for today,” Erwin redirects the conversation suddenly. Moving to restack the books and parchment we’ve been using all afternoon.

Consider the Tags below as both a Hello, but also How are you all doing?

@aristocratic-otter @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @artsyunderstudy @bazzybelle @bookish-bogwitch @buffy @captain-aralias @confused-bi-queer @cutestkilla @ebbpettier @erzbethluna @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @foolofabookwyrm-activated @gekkoinapeartree @hushed-chorus @ic3-que3n @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ileadacharmedlife @ionlydrinkhotwater @j-nipper-95 @johnwgrey @krisrix @larkral @martsonmars @letraspal @moodandmist @mostlymaudlin @onepintobean @palimpsessed @prettylightsbigcity @raenestee @shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @stitchyqueer @tea-brigade @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @whogaveyoupermission @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#six sentence sunday #as many sentences as I want sunday #hey #I'm alive #not necessarily thriving #but breathing #Writing away #working on some NaNoWriMo Secret Project #Gift Fic #Currently at 24345 words #100k goal #Other goals #NaNoWriMo #AOT #Eruri #LevixErwin #WIP

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kiloskywalker · 9 months

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Seven-ish Sentence Sunday

Thanks for the tags @chaotictarlos and @alrightbuckaroo! You're right, I do have somethings to share. Ignoring the fact that it's technically Monday, here is a new short sneak peek from my WIP "Take My Breath Away", my Tarlos Fighter Pilots AU. ********

“What?” Carlos said, when the silence shifted from comfortable to something much more intense–nothing bad, but nothing quite as simple as companionship. “Hmm?” “You’re looking at me funny.” “Am I? And here I thought I was just looking at you.” Carlos swallowed, a sudden case of nerves making him feel as anxious as he had on his first date ever, and all because TK was looking at him as though he were seeing him for the first time. Trying to muster up a bit of bravado, Carlos scoffed and settled back in his seat. “Oh yeah? And what do you see?” TK grazed his thumb over the top of Carlos’s knuckles and holy shit, TK might as well have been stroking his palm between his legs. Heat infused Carlos’s body, flames licking along his veins as the other man's eyes roamed over Carlos's face and down his neck, then he licked his lips, making Carlos squirm a little in his seat. “I see a man I wasn’t looking for. A man I didn’t even know was there, until right now. And Carlos?” “Yeah?” “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than sitting with him in this car right now, holding his hand.”

no pressure tags under the cut (I just learned about how to do that!)

no pressure tags: @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand @lemonlyman-dotcom @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sanjuwrites @carlos-in-glasses @meditating-honey-badger @mtdaddario @bigtittiesrafa @happinessandlove92 @lightningboltreader @carlitosreyesstrand @firstprince-history-huh @importantbailiffpaperpony @welcometololaland @sweettkstrand @rubinsteinsilva126 @tarlosislife @smurfassbitch and anyone else who wants to participate

#911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #tarlos #911 ls fic #ask me anything #prompt gremlin 💙#take my breath away #kilo writes #ask kilo #im writing as much as i can folks #having a full time job is not conducive to writing this fic

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givehimthemedicine · 2 years

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The ocean is one of the first things Max ever talked to him about.

The way she used to love to see double sunsets reflected on the water like a giant mirror. How she liked sinking her toes in the sand and bonfires that glowed brighter as the day faded. How she never, ever since she was little, came home from the beach without a few souvenir shells, and her mother on laundry days would always be complaining about sand in her pockets. He's never heard a voice so happy and so sad at the same time as when that girl talks about California.

So when Lucas sees a jar of seashells at a yard sale, of course it makes him think of her.

The price sticker also does, because 25 cents is how much it costs per attempt to get his Dig Dug high score right underneath hers. With just a little effort, anything can remind him of her.

His jar of shells gives him an idea - an idea that will take lots of work, because this is not really the kind of thing to ask the party for help with, but one that will be worth it if it makes her smile.

It takes twelve trips in the end, because sand is heavy, and hard to carry by bike. Besides, one can only scoop so much at a time from the playground into buckets and pillowcases before it starts to look weird. It's a gradual project. There's no deadline.

If his dad is curious why he's suddenly so interested in seeing the forecast page of the newspaper every day, he doesn't ask. There have never been so many totally overcast and totally clear days in a row.

But one late afternoon when the sky seems right, Lucas tells Max to get on her bike and come with him.

"Why the quarry?" she keeps demanding on the way there, because she knows immediately that he's being vague and she's getting suspicious.

"Okay, there's the quarry, what do you wanna see so bad?" she asks, parking her bike next to his.

"You," he blurts finally with a laugh, unzipping his backpack. "I wanted to take you to the beach."

"What?"

She follows him a few steps down to the world's tiniest beach - a neat patch of sand spread near the water's edge, just big enough for two people to sit in, garnished with seashells.

He unfurls a towel and presses play on the tape. That had been the hardest part, harder than the sand, because the ocean sound effects cassette took more than three agonizing weeks to arrive in the mail, and it's way heavier on the seagulls than he wishes, but it is what it is.

"Did you know from over here you can see a double sunset? Or, okay, like," he gestures at the giant cliff face that is obviously blocking a lot of the horizon, "a double half sunset.. so, one, I guess, really, but..."

He grows nervous as he strikes a match and focuses on lighting his prearranged firewood, because she's had plenty of time now to say something, and she hasn't.

This is pretty lame and corny, and maybe he should've done it better or not at all.

"I know it's got nothing on California. Maybe someday I can see the real thing with you, but I thought for now.. maybe it could be fun to pretend, just for a minute?"

It's about 50/50 when he looks up whether she'll be smiling or rolling her eyes, and he hopes for the former, or at least a combo.

Neither. She just sits down on her knees next to him, all quiet and blinky and eye-avoidy, the way she gets when she's thinking things she isn't good at saying out loud, and slips her fingers between his. Relieved, he smiles and tends the fire, not making her talk.

It's too bad that the sunset doesn't turn out to be an especially spectacular one, but maybe that isn't the point.

They put their toes in the sand and watch the sky and laugh about whatever and toast a few marshmallows, and Lucas thinks that if she's this beautiful in the orangy glow of a double half okay sunset on a teaspoon of fake beach, he doesn't know how he could ever survive looking directly at her in her natural habitat.

"You know," Max says, smiling softly at his face in the firelight, "there is one thing Hawkins definitely has on California."

Pretending not to feel her gaze, Lucas looks around innocently at their surroundings. "The quarries?"

And she snorts and kisses him, and his marshmallow burns to a cinder.

#lumax #fic #lumax ficlet #max: feelings ew get them away from me #lucas: breathes #max: 🥺🥺🥺#mine #fluff

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dipplinduo · 1 month

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So....TTPD is out.

...how in danger are we?

Yes. ✌️🤍

#some updates are spared #others are not #laughing in S&S D #laughing in DIOH #laughing in angst #laughing in MY PEN IS CHARGED BRUH #little did you know your home's only really just a town you're just a guest in #the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild #pulled him in tighter rach time he was driftin' away my spine split from carrying us up this hill #stitches come undone #i can fix him no really i can #trust me i can handle me a dangerous man #say it once again with feeling #how the death rattle breathing #silienced as the soul was leaving #old habits die screaming #So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street #Is it a wonder I broke?#change the prophecy #cards on the table mine play out like fools in a fable #theres so much more LMAOOO #do with those as you will #my fics #I am also debating writing an absolutely devestating oneshot just because I can #this album is lowkey my personality for the foreseeable future thanks taylor swift #you neVER MISS

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tyungelic · 3 months

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chaewon gives me baby lesbian vibes i can imagine her learning how to flag as a femme lesbian and having her older wiser lesbian bff sakura help her get a girlfriend 🤭

#i wanna write a fic for this so bad 😭 college au where chaewon has a crush on a girl in her class #she’s a freshman and determined to live her life out of the closet now that she’s away from home #she doesn’t know anyone there other than sakura who she’s been online friends with #and then chaewon meets the reader and her breath is taken away 🥺#brb writing an outline #tyungelic : personal 🪽

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mistapottaa · 6 months

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Ao3 will always be the best fanfic platform out there and I will not take any criticism.

I just came from the most horrifying, fraying nerves, crying blood, earth-shaking experience of remembering a fic I want to read again... and realized I didn't save it. It wasn't in my tabs nor saved as pdf, and I remembered what was about, the ships and the characters involved, and just because of the beautiful, glorious, perfect, gorgeous, delightful, scrumptious tag system I came to deal with over 5000 works to only 13 and the one I was looking for was the number 5.

God bless the filter system.

#fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #marauders era #the marauders era #i felt i couldn't breathe until I found my fic #i wanted to cRY #harry potter #it was a marauders series where sirius and regulus run away together and live happy lives but the one i was looking it was were lily invited #the dursleys to dinner and wolfstar is there and regulus/ofc is there and everything is a mess ofc and at the end james is soooo angry #and fuck i love these series

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witchofthesouls · 2 months

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Silly thought, but hear me out:

The magical schools from Harry Potter became Titans.

#transformers #titans #harry potter #crossover #fic ideas #maccadam #my thoughts #metroplex figures out something when llvermorny sends out little hellos that's usually between sentient cities #castelobruxo scolds the youngest #hogwarts and the forbidden forest have an Understanding #durmstrang moves a lot #uagodou took metroplex's breath away since he glimpses that one floating against the mountains

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wolves-in-the-world · 8 months

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tags on krakenartificer's post about a leverage au where nate enters the priesthood but ends up running cons for people who come to him for help anyway:

#now i need a crossover episode of catholic priest nate who's still running leverage style shenanigans #with father brown [via @trivalentlinks]

thank you for making me stare at the wall in fascination and horror about this crossover

they'd be occasional allies occasional confidantes they'd go behind each other's backs once or twice and only kinda regret it. This nate hasn't gone through the same loss as in canon, but that wouldn't make him a whole lot softer, so he'd be fundamentally irritated with father brown - his tested and unshakeable belief and his optimism about the human condition - and father brown would be generally concerned about everyone on nate's end, and nate not the least of it. They'd play chess together and be fairly well-matched. They'd visit each other's confessionals to check in.

we'd get some interesting acknowledgement of father brown's "I'm nice and simple and harmless" grift (which I could also call power negativity) which is only kind of a grift because he really is that nice and harmless beneath, except that he uses it to get information from people.

flambeau would be utterly thrilled and (playfully?) insulted not to be father brown's only criminal associate.

the leverage crew would be correctly suspicious of flambeau, I think, but sophie would greet him by name - possibly with a kiss to the cheek, possibly eyeing him like he's a viper in their midst - and reference some very improbable occasion when they were after the same prize. He mentions she was using a different name then; he doesn't say what it was. Bonus points if he also had his eye on the dagger in the Rashomon Job but had the flu / was unexpectedly in prison / had to attend a grandmother's funeral at the time.

I have this certainty in my mind that the leverage crew would be largely dismissive of sid's abilities and he'd kind of snort and roll his eyes about it - he's at worst a common criminal and very lower class, so he's used to being understimated - and surprise them with his connections or lock-picking or holding his own in a brawl or fixing an elderly car in the quickest dirtiest way imaginable. (Parker would decide she likes him then; the others would be reassured after seeing how gentle he is when talking with her.) He'd also nope out of leverage's business at a sensible time, because father brown's rubbed off on him and he doesn't actually want that kind of danger - unless the con's personal.

(I'm not sure whether to set this in leverage time or drag it back to father brown's 1950s so I'm settling for mashing the two together and pretending it's not an issue. See also: geography.)

… father brown would have I think one harrowing conversation with eliot where they mention their time in the military, the marks that killing people and losing people leaves on a person - father brown already does this in canon, tells someone it's unfair that they're mired in trauma and alcoholism when he found his faith through trauma instead, it floored me - and after brushing on repentance and god here, he wouldn't bring it up with eliot again. (I think father brown varies on this in canon, frankly, but he often respects that kind of boundary, and I think he'd recognise a wound so sore it should be left to heal however it can.)

(yes I'm playing with fictional priests like barbie dolls but no I'm not comfortable with the conversion aspects, so apologies and bear with me while I skate on past that.)

(he'd describe eliot as a good person, once, or as someone working very hard at it. Eliot would be on edge about that for the entire con, finding a little too much uneasy satisfaction in getting to knock people out and play the bad guy - play at the simpler stuff he used to do. Sophie might catch father brown for a word about it; father brown wouldn't be that clumsy again.)

I think father brown and nate would both talk bunty out of getting involved in a joint kembleford-leverage operation except in the most innocent way possible. The problem is she actually would make a good getaway driver, and she's thrilled with the idea, but she's already had some run-ins with the press and the law and can't risk another; luckily she's better used as a distraction elsewhere.

and I'm sorry to do this, but I think lady felicia's husband would be a mark or potential mark at one point. It would be fraught.

(the main reason I haven't recommended father brown's heist episode (s7e10), aside from not having a background on the politics in it, is that it shows lady felicia as a victim and pulls the heist on her behalf. The show largely convinced me to ignore the messy reality of her and her husband's inherited wealth, but that episode made me kinda uncomfortable - which is a shame, because seeing these characters pull a heist was fucking great.)

mrs mccarthy would be used against her will or knowledge as a distraction while someone's pockets are picked. She isn't told until afterwards, and then only half by accident. She is, of course, horrified. Father brown was absolutely the one to suggest it in planning, but flambeau slips in mid-apology to smoothly take the blame.

I could in fact go on and this is in fact a problem.

—

editing to continue:

I'm actually thinking that father brown might approach eliot from an ex-military angle and not a Religious Authority angle at all - eliot was raised protestant, after all, and it's an entirely different vibe. And I have to think eliot's guarded around father brown for the very fact that he's a priest and seems to mean it in a way that nate, I feel, wouldn't. So they may avoid the topic entirely, or as close to it as they can when brushing on, well, eliot's entire moral injury situation. Which is good news for me.

bunty would admire parker for being different and capable and getting up to exciting things, though would probably fail at any attempts at friendship until she thinks to ask what parker likes doing and ends up learning to pick pockets that evening. The second those two are around buildings tall enough to rappel down she's in danger. (The second parker can slip away at night she's giving the church a go; father brown gives her a look the night before and quietly warns her about the dodgy roof.)

mrs mccarthy decides fairly quickly that hardison is a very nice young man (his nana instincts are online and functional) even if he spends far too much time on the wretched computer. She's determined to feed him and half the time he's determined to find ways to politely refuse, though the strawberry scones are actually pretty good.

she's appalled by eliot's job, and fiercely territorial of her kitchen when he offers help, even just cleaning up, but once she's seen him get in the way of trouble she's absolutely catching his arm and half hiding behind him in any crisis real or perceived. (She still doesn't approve of him.)

lady felicia sees hardison and eliot as two very different kinds of novelties and does some talking to hardison about tech (mostly listening and marveling) and some quietly ogling both of them, and especially eliot once she's seen him fighting. (Eliot unfortunately turned on his charm when he realised she sort of expected it. She doesn't get to chat with charming southern gents all that often - it's very shallow, and she's not serious about it.)

thank goodness bunty's too young for eliot so I don't have to go there. He has to tuck her out of sight in a barn at some point when trouble's headed their way; when the mess is almost cleaned up and she's grabbed a rifle from somewhere to tell the the remaining goon to clear off, with every appearance of competence, eliot takes it from her and disarms it with a smear of blood under his nose and a slightly betrayed expression.

hardison and sid get along, aside from a little initial insecurity on the parker front, and get to bitch a bit about flambeau, who hardison mistrusts from the start.

flambeau... he admires parker, from a distance - professionally and not very effusively - but after he watches her work for a while he seems to realise who she was trained by, and tells her as much. He says he was too, for a very short time, and it's unclear if he'd gain anything from making it up. Says that he and archie had a difference of opinion - and has a way of saying it that implies there might have been fire involved.

#hello. hi. sorry folks. I do in fact recommend father brown (the bbc show) SO LONG AS #you're aware of and comfortable with the fact that he IS a catholic priest.#messy show kind show I had the flu when I fell in love with it #flambeau and sophie would communicate in ways the other characters wouldn't understand and low key flirt like it's breathing #both nate and lady felicia would be jealous and have to DEAL with the fact that they're jealous #this is going to end with nate leaving the priesthood to get to know sophie and run cons with the team isn't it #with father brown's blessing-and-cautions-and-please-stay-in-touch (which he obviously does)#father brown #leverage #orig #this is a separate post to spare the previous OP because I got a bit carried away #and trivalent sorry for referencing characters you don't really know yet!! this just sort of Happened I'm as surprised as you are #can I make this make sense enough to fit one episode's worth of story. maybe.#it would in fact be concerningly plausible to write a modern day fic with a small english village that's apparently stuck in the 1950s #my head's in my hands about this country tbh #catholicism cw #christianity cw #this post may self-destruct after a while we'll see

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lavenderleahy · 4 months

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first kiss destiel fics... save me first kiss destiel fics

#i read one today that literally took my breath away #multiple times #destiel #destiel fic

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sibillascribbles08 · 7 months

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20 ^.^

Here have this at 10PM

Okay not married in this one but there's no way Jason wouldn't have learned about this kinda early on so it makes sense

Jason became shockingly familiar with “turtle” noises.

He couldn’t correctly call them turtle noises because he’d done his research. Turtles did make a variety of sounds, but for the most part the mutation—along with learning to speak human language—kept his boyfriend and his brothers from sounding like they would normally.

Not that they were completely without their strange sounds. Raph would frequently hiss when he was frightened. Leo made a bunch of strange chirps when he was annoyed—and thought no one was watching. And Mikey had a whole list of squeaks that he’d let out when he was excited or happy.

Donnie had his own list of strange noises, though most of them Jason just chalked up to his brand of weirdness. Every single emotion seemed to have its own designated sound to go with it. Hisses, growls, squeaks, squawks, snorts, and everything in between.

Jason got used to these noises. After eight months he’d gotten pretty good at deciphering them even. There goes the, “Donnie took a bite of something he doesn’t like” noise. That was the, “Donnie is straining himself to reach for a tool because he’s too lazy to get out of his chair” noise. And how could they ever forget the bizarre giggling sound that occurred when a new invention finally worked.

After eight months, Jason assumed he’d heard it all.

But then…

He definitely didn’t do it on purpose. He left the lab to grab some snacks and some drinks and returned to see Donnie focusing on nothing but sliding two small bits of metal together. Jason approached from behind, watching for a bit before he leaned over to place the juice box on the desk.

The motion made Donnie jump, and as he did he squeaked.

Not a typical human gasp or shriek in the slightest. No. It had the same loud and drawn out noise as a windshield wiper on a dry windshield.

Jason stared at him, eyes wide.

“Jase, be more careful.” Donnie shook his head, acting casual like that insane noise hadn’t just left his throat. “These pieces are delicate.”

Jason just kept staring, the sound looping in his memory as if to burn it into place.

Donnie finally noticed his stare and lifted his goggles. “What?”

“Did you just make that noise?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What noise?”

“That squeak, when I surprised you.”

“Scoff, like you haven’t heard me squeak a dozen times.”

“Not like that!” Jason insisted. He put down his own drink and the bag of chips. Could he recreate the sound? He had to at least try.

At least after eight months he knew how to make the softshell jump.

Even easier to do when Donnie reached for the juice box. Jason lightly poked him under the shoulder right where his scales gave way to his plastron.

Donnie squeaked again. The same noise, though much shorter this time.

“Oh my god,” Jason gasped.

“Will you knock it off!” Donnie swatted at his hand. “It’s not that strange.”

“You sound like a windshield wiper!”

“Rude, like humans don’t make their own weird noises.”

Jason would have argued that, only to get interrupted by a jab to the same spot. A high pitched squeak escaped his throat and he scrambled back before his boyfriend could try again.

“See? You sound like a dehydrated mouse.”

Jason glared. “What does that even mean?”

Donnie smirked at him. “Tiny voice but with a hint of gravel.”

He rolled his eyes and dared approach close enough to take his juice back. “Sorry for being curious when my boyfriend makes a sound I haven’t heard before.”

“You really haven’t?” Donnie tilted his head. “It’s not like I hide it.”

“You tend to make a lot of other squeaky noises. Just what’s up with that one?”

“A remnant from my time as a turtle, I believe.” He lowered his goggles again and got back to work. “At least based on what little I could dig up. Turtle noises are not commonly recorded.”

Jason sipped at his juice and finally plopped down in the other swivel chair. “So red sliders also chirp?”

“When they’re distressed, yes. Leo’s embarrassed of that one, but he never kicked the habit.” Donnie chuckled and then hunched over on his desk, his face inches from the metal he was working with.

Jason scooted over, making sure he was loud about it this time before he lifted his legs and rested them on Donnie’s lap. The softshell didn’t push him off, so he stayed there and opened the bag of chips.

Donnie held out a hand toward him. Jason extended the bag, letting his boyfriend dig out a few chips to munch on before resting it back on his lap and taking a few himself.

“So, how much more of this do you have to work on?”

“It will be less if you don’t interrupt me again.” Donnie stuck his tongue out as he attempted again to fit the metal together.

“Fine, but when this is done we’re watching a movie.”

Donnie chuckled. “Does the dragon crave cuddle time?”

“Watch it, I can kick you in the chin from here.”

“Yes yes, movie after. Now let me work!”

Jason stopped talking, at least, but he crinkled the bag a lot when he reached in for some more chips and made sure to crunch on them extra loud.

“Jase,” Donnie hissed. “Please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled with his mouth full. He ate his chips quieter, thinking through the silence.

Just what exactly would it take to get Donnie to make that hilarious noise again?

#scribbly fics #jasonnie #rottmnt #my hcs on turtle noises are a lot different than common fanon #that is to say based on their sizes they can't really make the noises they would at turtle size #but that doesn't mean the habit isn't there #also noises can be very specific to turtle species #snappers are fairly vocal #I don't have any source noises for box turtles yet tho #but I did legit find the one for the softshell #and yes it sounds like a windshield wiper it's hilarious #and red sliders do chirp but like it says only when distressed #so I love to think when Leo's stressed out or annoyed #he's just making all these noises under his breath #but ALSO thanks to mutated turtle nonsense #they can also make some NEW noises #like Raph making those DEEP noises that gators can #tbh I don't think people get crazy enough with it #anyway putting that ramble away

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