#Third season never happening verse?

[lordofthestrix]

i am cursed with my father’s temper at times.

"So am I. Or so the voices of the small people used to mumble when confident their whispers wouldn't reach me. Back when my human heart was still beating. There is no need for you to equate his rage with your own. Hard as you might find it to believe, I can easily sympathize. Once upon a time I was intimately familiar with the experience of growing up in the shadow of what more than a few deemed a malicious tyrant. I can still vaguely remember the detestable side looks. The concerned expressions whenever wrath was made manifest. The pestering, constant question they never dare to speak. Is the child turning just like the parent?" Tristan coldly mused in affable mockery. As if recalling an long-forgotten joke. "But you see, chimeric cub... Parents, be them good or bad, are meant to be surpassed. That is their purpose. Or is that not what even plenty of modern scholars of the mind suggest with their dramatic notion of symbolically killing the father? The greatest honor one can bestow upon their bloodline is to make everything that arrived before nothing but overture when compared to your performance. Do not be so quick to perceive your temper as simple inheritance. To a moth, a fleeting spark of fire and the deepest circle of hell feels about the same. The eyes of insects are not meant to judge giants. And you yourself should never define who you are by comparison." He offered a subtle shade of complicity. "Offering my personal perspective on the matter...I can only imagine your father gifted you a rather unpleasant and colorful description of me when we first came in contact. The only thing I share in common with Klaus is our deep and mutual lack of any respect for the other. To my eyes, his often fabled rage is little more than uncontrolled tantrum. But you...I am already vastly more impressed with the tempests storming inside your gaze. And you are barely beginning. "

@nexusvcrti

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 10)

 Final Girl Masterlist  (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary:  Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel. 

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one. 

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks. 

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter. 

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.” 

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?” 

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.” 

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.” 

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out. 

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.” 

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top. 

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this. 

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?” 

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.” 

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--” 

“Excuse me?” 

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.” 

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!” 

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?” 

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.” 

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.” 

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.” 

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock. 

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school. 

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise. 

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.” 

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff. 

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.” 

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first. 

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel. 

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.” 

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.” 

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm. 

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.” 

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?” 

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.” 

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.” 

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be. 

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back. 

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.” 

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?” 

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.” 

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--” 

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.” 

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach. 

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain? 

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?” 

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie. 

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity. 

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.” 

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.” 

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.” 

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm. 

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me. 

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out. 

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.” 

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.” 

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?” 

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer. 

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.” 

“Maybe I don’t get it.” 

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.” 

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?” 

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.” 

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important. 

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.” 

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me. 

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words. 

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.” 

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.” 

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.” 

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.” 

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.” 

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention. 

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish. 

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.” 

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient. 

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote. 

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from-- 

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.” 

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--” 

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.” 

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?” 

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.” 

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.” 

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.” 

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.” 

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.” 

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention. 

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.” 

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind. 

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.” 

“It’s well written.” 

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down. 

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him. 

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh. 

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand. 

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?”  Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.” 

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.” 

“I didn’t even touch her.” 

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.” 

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--” 

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his. 

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.” 

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.” 

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life. 

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music. 

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.” 

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.” 

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?” 

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.” 

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.” 

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.” 

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.” 

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.” 

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.” 

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up. 

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?” 

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.” 

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?” 

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today. 

“Yeah? Really?” 

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.” 

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?” 

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?” 

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them. 

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?” 

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?” 

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.” 

I scoff, “You were almost nice.” 

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens. 

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he���s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.” 

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm. 

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic. 

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story. 

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling. 

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out. 

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place. 

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?” 

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.” 

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.” 

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.” 

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.” 

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame. 

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.” 

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.” 

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.” 

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.” 

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?” 

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.” 

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise. 

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up. 

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.” 

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat. 

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react. 

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.” 

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.” 

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres.  “That poor girl.” 

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.” 

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though. 

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time. 

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye. 

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap. 

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me. 

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.” 

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?” 

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.” 

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.” 

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.” 

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.” 

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?” 

“Neon.” 

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.” 

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.” 

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.” 

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him. 

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?” 

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.” 

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s. 

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him. 

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things. 

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.” 

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?” 

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.” 

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?” 

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?” 

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.” 

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?” 

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.” 

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.” 

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?” 

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.” 

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names. 

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.” 

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.” 

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.” 

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.” 

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.” 

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?” 

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.” 

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.” 

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.” 

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.” 

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.” 

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?” 

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means. 

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.” 

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.” 

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.” 

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.” 

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?” 

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--” 

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.” 

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.” 

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.” 

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?” 

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen... 

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?” 

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth. 

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.” 

“We can do something else if you want?” 

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation. 

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.” 

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere. 

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists... 

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.” 

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--” 

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.” 

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline. 

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.” 

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.” 

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.” 

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?” 

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.” 

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.” 

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

Taglist:  @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc @kobababysblog @moved2burntrubbertoast @gamecrew209 @idkf-loll @wolfgirl-205 @ultimatequeenieofsass @kathanibennett @itsjuststaticnoises @brittney69 @domaniquessidehoe @kaydesssssssss @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @classicbandtrash83 @itzz-me-duh 

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

hello. i have a question. since you have claimed the title of official good omens mascot i've decided that it's only fitting i ask you. this is quite an embarrassing question to be honest so don't err- judge... i've been in the fandom for about 5-6 months and i cannot for the life of me figure out what people mean when they talk about south downs cottage. from what i gather it's not in the book or the show so what's it from?

HEY DON'T WORRY ANON MAGGOT I GOTCHA (ALSO I DIDN'T CLAIM THE TITLE I WAS KIDNAPPED). ALSO DON'T MIND THE ALL CAPS IF YOU'RE NEW HERE I JUST HAD BLACK COFFEE THIS HAPPENS OCCASIONALLY ON THIS BLOG. IT'S A COMPLETELY VALID QUESTION.

SO BASICALLY, WHEN NEIL AND TERRY WROTE THE STORY, THEY'D PLOTTED OUT A KIND OF SEQUEL WHICH WAS NEVER WRITTEN AND THEY ALSO DECIDED ABOUT WHAT WOULD EVENTUALLY HAPPEN WITH AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY. IT WAS DECIDED THAT THEY WOULD MOVE TO A COTTAGE AND LIVE THERE TOGETHER IN THE SOUTH DOWNS.

NOW, WHEN NEIL WAS ASKED ABOUT THIS HE SAID IT HADN'T HAPPENED IN THE TV VERSE YET. NOW THIS MIGHT MEAN IT WILL BE THE ENDING OF GO S3 (WELL, WE'LL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE) BECAUSE WHILE THE SECOND SEASON IS A KIND OF BRIDGE BETWEEN S1 AND S3, THE THIRD SEASON IS, IF I'M NOT WRONG GOING TO BE BASED ON THAT INITIAL PLAN FOR HOW THE STORY WOULD CONTINUE AND END.

OKAY YAY I FOUND SOMETHING MIDWAY THROUGH WRITING THIS. HERE'S A POST BY @fuckyeahgoodomens THAT EXPLAINS IT MORE CLEARLY.

THE FANDOM IS CURRENTLY SOBBING AND SO CLINGING ON TO THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, WHICH IS PERSONIFIED BY THE SOUTH DOWNS COTTAGE. IT'S KIND OF A FREUDIAN COPING TACTIC. DON'T QUESTION IT, THERE WILL BE TEARS AND VIOLENCE.

WE DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW FOR CERTAIN THAT THE SOUTH DOWNS COTTAGE IS HOW IT'LL END, BUT THIS IS ALL THE INFORMATION ABOUT IT THAT I HAVE! HOPE IT HELPS.

[dweemeister]

Instant reactions to the 96th Academy Awards

A rough night for me. But there have been rougher ones before. I imagine most of my comments put me in a very lonely minority, as has been apparent the last few months.

But here goes:

For all intents and purposes, yours truly was on the Killers of the Flower Moon train. An extraordinary crime epic from Scorsese, with astounding craftsmanship and fantastic performance from Lily Gladstone. More than what I previously believed possible, a major studio production went out of its way to make sure that its Indigenous American representation on-screen was as genuine as it could possibly be (still imperfect, as the film acknowledges, but what an effort). And yet, KOTFM goes 0/10. I've never had a favored Best Picture nominee be shut out in such a way before. And I'm not surprised at all by it. It was clear that non-American and non-Canadian audiences didn't get the context to the film (a criticism I understand, given the screenplay) and, in other quarters, folks thought it was too long (I admittedly have a higher tolerance for longer movies) and others have said something akin to the fact that they are getting tired over "racial guilt" movies from America. I'm not in the mood to respond to the last one. I think it deserved better tonight. I particularly think Lily Gladstone deserved better tonight.

Stat upheld: two non-white actresses have never won on the same night in Oscar history. History, in and of itself, was always against Gladstone.

Oppenheimer winning? Fine, I guess. It was my #4 choice of the ten Best Picture nominees. I guess Christopher Nolan was overdue, but I have always been a Nolan skeptic. The film certainly is his most humanistic, and I appreciate that. As for the narrative organization and editing trickery? It mostly serves to take me out of the movie. And I don't think Nolan truly understands what thematic film music can accomplish for his movies. I think RDJ should have had much more competition all season long, but he did not. Most people are gonna say this is the return of the Academy's favorite subgenre... the Great Man Biopic. But in composition and structure, Oppenheimer (and even Maestro) resembles very little of the past Great Man Biopics. It'll be interesting to see how history treats this movie.

I disliked Poor Things. I didn't care for its sense of humor, didn't agree with many folks' opinions that it was a magnum opus of female empowerment. I thought it was incredibly male gaze-y and troublingly sanitized its scenes of sex work. Jerskin Fendrix's score was unlistenable outside the context of the film and distracting within it. But it has four Academy Awards and people love this movie, so my opinion can go to heck?

Well done Da'Vine Joy Randolph for her win as Supporting Actress for The Holdovers. I truly hope this opens up a lot more new opportunities for her going for! Wonderful speech.

And speaking of wonderful speeches, both documentary winners got me very emotional. The Last Repair Shop is on YouTube for American and Canadian viewers, and it's simply wonderful. Perhaps the happiest I was all night long! And then came Mstyslav Chernov's speech after winning for 20 Days in Mariupol. Chernov had, arguably, the speech of the night. And I agree with him. I, too, wish he never had to make his film and that he never won this Oscar. But he did his job to document what happened in Mariupol. And for that he (and the Ukrainians suffering and dying in their war versus Russia) deserves our plaudits and support.

Once more, Hayao Miyazaki cannot be bothered to show up to an awards ceremony. It's hilarious! I would have voted Robot Dreams, but The Boy and the Heron is not a winner to sniff at. Spider-Verse will have one more shot.... whenever the third movie comes out?

Good lord, they selected the worst possible winner in Animated Short with War Is Over!. There's an unwritten rule that the Academy, among the fifteen nominated shorts, must select one which will piss me the hell off. And for the second straight year in Animated Short, they have done exactly that, choosing something akin to a soft drink commercial.

Billie Eilish and Finneas are now the youngest and second-youngest ever to win two Oscars, after Luise Rainer (Best Actress for 1936's The Great Ziegfeld and 1937's The Good Earth). That feels very, very weird. In both cases of this record.

The "I'm Just Ken" performance? Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (Like Ken)??? Busby Berkeley choreography? What do the kids say? Inject that straight into my veins? It was wonderful.

And speaking of nods to cinema history, I'm so glad they led off the stunt performers tribute with Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. :,)

And congratulations to Godzilla Minus One and its Best Visual Effects win! After seventy years, Godzilla is now an Oscar-winning franchise, and its win percentage is 100%! Simply wonderful!

I think the moral of the story is that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) has been gradually internationalizing over the last decade. And the results of that were very clear tonight. Does that mean I'm too provincial in my tastes? I don't know. But wins such as Emma Stone's, Anatomy of a Fall, The Boy and the Heron, and Godzilla are demonstrative of that.

I'm glad this season is over. I certainly hope that Killers of the Flower Moon will be looked upon more kindly by history and time, without the bells and whistles of awards campaigning and a fuller understanding of why it was made the way it was.

This month has been fun! But now it's time to see movies again without the lens of awards for a long, long while.

[10blue10]

HTTYD continuity: Are there two Hiccups?

First of all, thank you for all the likes and reblogs on my ‘there are two Hiccups’ post. It’s seriously blowing my mind how popular it is. So, if you read it and thought “what? There are two Hiccups?”

Well, no… but actually yes. I wasn’t being literal (I know, on the reading comprehension website? Shame on me), but the thing is, I’m actually kind of right? Just look at these examples from the wiki:

The entire series is based on the six main Dragon Riders moving away from Berk for over a year. However, in commentary, Dean DeBlois has said that they all lived on Berk between the first two films. The second film’s Art Book elaborates on this saying that they all had responsibilities on Berk which prevented them from leaving.

In other words, as far as Dean is concerned, RTTE never happened.

The series also focuses on the six main Dragon Riders exploring lands outside the Archipelago together, while both Dean and the second film’s Art Book state that only Hiccup and Astrid ventured outside the Archipelago as they were the ones drawing up Hiccup's map. The other four stayed much closer to Berk.

Again, we have a direct contradiction between what Dean claims happened pre-HTTYD2 in his (head)canon, and what we see in RTTE.

Numerous other "dragon riders" are introduced throughout the series, when the second and third films themselves stress how Berk is the only community who rides dragons. Dean elaborated on this during a convention panel explaining that that’s why Eret and Drago were so alarmed when seeing Vikings riding on dragons, and why Eret assumed Valka was one of them.

In an interview with the series creators Art Brown and Douglas Sloan, it was mentioned that the show was originally meant to have 4 seasons, spread out over the span of a year and a half, leading up to the second film. Following the many clues and mentions regarding the passage of time within the story, the last 7 episodes of season 4 were supposed to have happened during the same summer as the film. However, when seasons 5 and 6 were ordered into production, the show writers had to carry on with the timeline they had set up, which inevitably lead to the series continuing into negative time; going past the second film.

In other words, the last two seasons of RTTE aren’t meant to take place before HTTYD2 - they take place after it. If there’s better proof that RTTE is on its own separate timeline, I don’t know what that is.

The majority of film characters are portrayed severely out-of-character in the series compared to the films and film-verse media; most arguably Hiccup and Astrid. Aside from having similar appearance and even voices, their personalities and behaviors in the series portray them as drastically different people than their film counterparts.

I would argue that they are more in character during RTTE, especially Snotlout, the twins and Fishlegs. Isn’t it amazing what being fleshed out characters instead of comic relief can do? But there you have it. RTTE!Hiccup is portrayed as drastically different to his film counterpart. When push comes to shove, there are two Hiccups.

Or, you know, three, if we count the one from the books 😂.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to lamenting the fact we live in the timeline where THW exists and not the timeline where the writers of RTTE were allowed to make a full length conclusion movie.

[withclawandvine]

GOT LOVESTRUCK, WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD — the wrong place at the right time

summary: Elain was supposed to be in paradise with her fiancè, not alone at an airport bar, held hostage by a storm. Lucien was only supposed to be in Las Vegas for a few days on business, before flying back home on the Vanserra jet. They weren’t supposed to meet, but fate is funny like that.

ao3 link: coming soon, i promise! [i am literally posting this from my phone at a bachelorette weekend lol]

author’s note: happy @elucienweekofficial !!! i had SO MUCH FUN writing this one. it’s all a modern au, obviously, but the other prompts are woven in! i had every intention of posting a chapter per day(ish) this week, but i went to the george r.r. martin school of writing, so…. that didn’t happen lmao but here’s the first of the planned five parts to get the ball rolling !!

The moment the wheels of the 757 traveling south from San Francisco to Las Vegas touched down, the sky split open, unleashing a seasonal monsoon with wind speeds and torrential rainfall surpassing any other that year.

Most people would consider it a stroke of good luck — a small miracle, even — that plane hadn’t been struck from the sky by a bolt of lightning.

Elain Archeron knew better.

She knew this storm was just one more incident in the chain of mishaps shackled to this vacation.

First, there was Graysen unceremoniously breaking their engagement two months ago, leaving Elain with a voluminous white gown taking up all the room in her closet, a box of unaddressed invitations collecting dust, and a nonrefundable booking for an all-inclusive luxe resort in St. Barts — the Christmas gift Gray had insisted she take for herself and a friend, all with that heavy dose of that new money condescension he was so versed in.

If she’d been smart, Elain would have given the tickets to the retired couple next door, but instead, she’d called Feyre.

Her little sister had suffered her own heartbreak earlier in the year, and although she pretended to be over it, Elain knew she was still reeling. Tamlin would have never let Feyre leave the country without him. Or, more accurately, Tamlin wouldn’t have let Feyre leave the backyard without him.

So it felt exceptionally cruel when Ferye called, voice weak and miserable, to tell Elain she had food poisoning and wouldn’t be able to make the trip. Hell, she’d lamented. I’ll be lucky if I make it out of the bathroom anytime soon.

With her plane departing in a few hours, Elain knew her only choice was to either call the whole thing off, or go it alone.

She enjoyed solitude; she liked gardening alone, and was a lunchtime regular at the little cafe down the street. But in the weeks since moving out of Graysen’s townhouse, she’d been spending most of her time confined to her new apartment, and if it went on for much longer, she’d evolve into a Gothic heroine.

She knew she needed a change of scenery, lest she start clawing at the wallpaper.

A man taking a sharp corner without looking up from his phone narrowly avoided a head-on collision with Elain; instead, he clipped her suitcase, wrenching it from her hand. It clung to the stranger’s carryon for a few paces, then dropped to the floor.

Before it could get swept up by the chaotic and restless crowd, Elain snatched the handle of her suitcase and righted it. The bag wobbled, then settled crookedly to the right. Within seconds of realizing he small, black wheel on the ground near it did in fact belong to her luggage, someone’s foot sent it skittering over the tile.

Elain watched it pinball out of sight, unable to contain her sharp, deranged laugh.

Just like that, the trip had gone from unfortunate to downright cursed — that little wheel was no mere inconvenience. It was an omen, just as powerful as any broken mirror or bolt of lightning. Clearly, the universe was trying to tell her that a hurricane was foredoomed to materialize on the first day of her stay, and wash her away by the third. Or that the long-inactive volcano would spontaneously erupt. Perhaps the plane would evanesce into the Bermuda Triangle.

She should have stayed home. She wanted to go home. Spend the next ten days of her hard-won PTO rewatching Bridgerton. Make a batch of her famous death-by-chocolate brownies and an espresso martini. Get petty satisfaction out of knowing how much of Graysen’s money was being wasted.

But as it was, Elain wasn’t on her way to an island or her Bay Area apartment; there was only one place she could go right now.

She all but stomped, her suitcase limping awkwardly behind her, in the direction of the nearest bar.

Elain collapsed onto a barstool and ordered something sweet, tropical, and strong. The bartender looked annoyed by her lack of specificity, but had the good grace not to say anything about it as he shook up then presented her with a mango mojito with an extra shot of rum.

Elain closed her eyes and took a sip, imagining she was basking in the sun as the tide lapped at her brightly-pedicured toes.

Her conjured serenity dissipated when she felt someone settle into the stool beside her.

A man in a perfectly tailored suit flagged the bartender. It was the kind of suit that spoke of money and importance — the kind of suit that ordered top-shelf whiskey, neat.

So Elain couldn’t help but look to him in surprise when he said, “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

Sensing her attention, he turned his head to flash her an easy smile, shrugging as if to say What about it?

He was captivating; his sharp suit so at odds with his long hair, tied back in a way that was almost thoughtless. Artfully messy, with a few loose strands framing a face made up of pointed features that screamed mischief. A scar, now faint with age, was carved into the left side of his face from brow to jaw, pulling slightly at the corner of his mouth. That mouth — the only soft part of his face.

Elain watched him take a hearty drink of his cocktail.

“That’s fucking delightful.” He said this to Elain as if she’d been the one to make it for him, not just put the idea in his head by sipping on her own. To the bartender, he said, “We’ll need two more of these, please.”

She blinked at him. “We?”

“What?” His smile was a little lopsided and a lot teasing. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

When Elain gave the waiting bartender a thumbs-up, the man’s smile grew.

God, he needed to keep that thing in check.

He extended a hand. “I’m Lucien.”

She took it, letting his fingers engulf hers. “Elain.”

He repeated her name to himself softly and fondly, like they do in the movies.

“Well, Elain, where are you supposed to be right now? Assuming a bar in the Las Vegas airport wasn’t your final destination.”

Maybe it was that second mojito, but telling Lucien the story about Graysen dumping her within weeks of their big, romantic getaway, and months of their wedding was surprisingly easy.

“So yeah,” she shrugged, stirring the melting ice and crushed mint around the glass with her straw. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Lucien agreed, pushing a water she didn’t even notice him ordering at her.

“What about you? Were you in town for business or pleasure?”

“First it was business.” He flashed her a secretive smile, “Now it’s a pleasure.”

“Well, it must have been one nightmare of a business trip if this is your —”

Elain’s phone buzzed on the counter.

ATTN: Flight MAF608 LAS to MIA has been POSTPONED until 6:00 AM PST. For more information, reply HELP

Elain set her phone back down, then, without uttering a word, slid the water away, giving herself enough room to let her forehead fall to the countertop with a dull, defeated thud.

“Everything alright?”

She turned her head enough to look at Lucien with one eye. “I am going to die in this airport.”

He picked her phone up. “You’re going to die in the next…” he squinted at the screen, “ten hours?”

“If I’m lucky,” she grumbled, “it’ll be in the next two.”

Lucien’s laugh was rich and bright. Elain wanted to be annoyed at him for laughing at her misery, but the sound was so perfectly joyous, she could only manage a half-hearted pout.

“You’re laughing,” she said. “I’m going to spend the night on this barstool and you’re laughing.”

A prospect that still somehow seemed more dignified than calling Graysen to ask for money to cover a night in a hotel. The only reason she could go on this trip in the first place was because of his fancy tech job and guilty conscience.

“The business I was in town for,” Lucien said, making a show of snuffing out his laughter and becoming serious. “It was with a hotel on the Strip that my family does business with. I can make arrangements for you to stay there.”

Elain smiled, even as she shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but —”

“Please,” he insisted, sweeping up her tab with his own, and placing a black Amex on top. “It would be no trouble at all.”

[roanniom]

Ok. This is retroactively dedicated to @millenialcatlady

Notes and Verses

Music professor!Eddie Munson and English professor!reader

Warnings: Fluff, sexual tension, future smut in this AU!

Eddie had a successful career as a touring and session musician, playing guitar for amazing artists and for his own band. But somewhere along the way he lost the words. Lyrics don’t come easy to him anymore. He used to fill pages and pages with his thoughts and ideas and feelings. Cheeky little ditties and heartfelt anecdotes. But these days it’s just melody and nothing else. He’s a wizard on guitar but only under someone else’s words.

His prolific career led to a steady fall gig teaching as a lecturer at a prestigious college known for its music program (they didn’t care about the fact that he’d barely finished high school since he’d preformed on Grammy winning tracks). And it turns out that his office is housed right next to the brick building containing the English department.

Which is how he met you.

Sweet. Studious. Buttoned up you. Plaid and tweed and stockinged and woolen and soft and warm you. You became unlikely friends when you’d both reached for the last muffin in the little coffee shop nestled between your buildings. Conversation flowed easily, in spite of your differing aesthetics, and as the weeks flew by that first fall, you and Eddie became fast friends with a regular set time to catch up over coffee and one of those coveted muffins.

Eddie spends his springs in studios doing session recordings, but eventually you cajole him into teaching summer courses. Selfish as you are to have him with you for two seasons of the year. Little do you know that he’s selfish in his desire to see you in less layers in the warm months, sweaters traded for tasteful but lower cut blouses, structured skirts and tights traded for shorter, flowy material and skin.

It’s on your third fall semester together that Eddie happens upon your notebook, however. You’d both spent a lunch break together in companionable silence, chewing and working on your own paperwork. You come back from washing up to find Eddie flipping through the notebook you’d left open on the table. He looks up at you with wide eyes.

“You’re so fucking talented, you know that?”

You scramble forward and grab the notebook from him, slamming it shut and holding it against your chest protectively.

“Eddie! You can’t read other people’s writing without asking!” you huff. Ruffled.

“Well then can I read it, please?” Eddie asks. He holds his hand out to get you to hand it back. You shake your head.

“No!”

Eddie pouts at you as you regain your seat across from him.

“That’s some deep shit you have in there,” he says gravely. You roll your eyes.

“Eloquent, Munson.”

“Hey, look. Never said I was,” Eddie says with a roguish wink that’s got you hotter under the collar than you’d like to admit. “Haven’t been able to write in years. A decade even.”

“I don’t believe that,” you snort.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a storyteller. A tale weaver. A blowhard,” you tease, sliding the tip of your finger around the rim of your mug. Eddie watches your finger's trajectory for a minute before speaking up again.

"We should team up."

"I'm sorry?" you ask, certain you've heard him wrong.

"Your words. My music."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, completely flustered at the very proposition even though he hasn't explained himself at all yet.

"You do lyrics, I do melody. We could kill it, babe!" His grin is massive and your heart constricts. He often calls you by pet names, but this time it makes you feel light headed. You throw your notebook and things into your bag.

"You've finally lost it, Munson," you say, light and dismissive, getting up from the table. "You're out of your mind."

Eddie is quick to follow you out of the cafe.

"This is the clearest I've been thinking in years!" he insists, grabbing your elbow before you can dash off to your own building. He whirls you back to him and you catch your balance by gripping his bicep. His rather large bicep...

"This is what I've been waiting for. Inspiration. Guidance. A muse!"

Eddie's eyes are so wide and his smile is so hopeful that you feel your stomach flip.

"Eddie, I have no background in music. I don't write songs!"

"But you write poetry - it's the same thing!"

You huff and look around wildly as if some kind of excuse or escape will materialize out of thin air and get you out of this uncomfortable situation. Instead, all you see is the lanky, expectant frame of Eddie Munson.

"You know for a fact that lyricism is poetic, so I'm not even going to dignify that excuse with any further arguments," Eddie says. His smile is wide enough to indicate that he knows he's won. He knows he's got you.

Suddenly his big hands are gripping your wrists and pulling your hands to rest on his chest.

"Help me. Do you need me to beg? I'll beg, sweetheart, I have no dignity," he moans playfully. All of your nerve endings alight at the sound and your imagination immediately runs wild at the thought of what else he could moan with those pretty lips. You squash those thoughts as quickly as you can and nod in the process of dislodging the inappropriate thoughts in your head, which Eddie takes as an affirmative to his begging. "You'll do it?! You're fucking perfect, you know that?"

Before you can correct his misunderstanding, Eddie kisses you hard on the cheek. The motion is wet and smacking and it shakes you to your very core. His hand cradles you at your waist and for a second your bodies are pressed flush together. Your entire being vibrates at the feeling of Eddie Munson against you and it seems like time stands still.

But then he's pulling away, taking his warmth and his steadiness with him.

"You won't regret this, sweetheart. We're going to make the best team ever, just you wait!"

And with that, Eddie bounds off in the direction of the music building, leaving you with only a foggy comprehension of what you've supposedly just agreed to and with the memory of the feeling of his body against yours.

What have you gotten yourself into.

~*~

....

....

....

....

....

Just adding space so Tumblr can delete this if it wants to instead of the actual writing lol

[minecraftbookshelf]

FAKE FIC TITLES YIPPEE!! here’s a bunch you don’t have to do them all lol - these are so fun to come up with (most of these are inspired by things i would write if i was good at writing)

cake and melting candles

feathers rest at your feet

your sun kissed freckles look like stars

fins and leather

blood red, burning hate

secret kisses behind a wall

wishes and curses

rivalries - secret glances

blood stained lace trims

have a great day!!! :D

I will absolutely be doing all of them XD

I have some...good or bad? i guess it depends on how you look at it? No one is good at writing until they've written and read a lot.

It's an ongoing process (all of which is to say, if you want to write, write badly! Anything worth doing is worth doing badly, I've done more than my share of bad writing. See: My early fics and a lot of my writing that has never seen the internet, both old and new.)

Anywho, made up fic titles!

Going under a cut for this one

cake and melting candles - After Lizzie fell into the void in Secret Life, when everyone went by to loot her house, there were still decorations up from the failed party.

feathers rest at your feet - Daemon AU for Double Life, Pearl's daemon shifts, even though she's an adult and he's been settled for a long time. From Owl to Wolf. (I might actually write this one at some point)

your sun kissed freckles look like stars - Something Something Salmon Pearl and Horror Marine Biologist Gem.

fins and leather - Limited Life Mean Gills, Pirate AU, ft. Pirate Martyn and Merman Scott, Martyn got washed overboard from his ship during a storm, Scott saves his life. There are some adventures and shenanigans and cameo appearances. Ultimately, Martyn rejoins his crew, possibly after killing Scott. (This would not be a Nice Story) Alternately he thinks he rejoins his crew, but what actually happened was he went mad, hallucinated his crew, killed Scott, and then wandered into the ocean and died.

blood red, burning hate - Third Life Skizzleman and the origin of the Boogeyman Curse. A sort of stream-of-conciousness one-shot with a Watcher Epilogue.

secret kisses behind a wall - I hear "wall" and i think the Flower Valley wall from Third Life, the wooden one that Joel burned down. Flower Husbands Catch FeelingsTM.

wishes and curses - Urban Fantasy AU Case Fic from the Gone Fishing verse, ft. The Property Police.

rivalries - secret glances - Empires Season 1, fWhip is crushing on Jimmy, Jimmy is oblivious. Conflict proceeds as usual.

blood stained lace trims - Marriage of State, How Sausage Became King of Mythland. (It was totally not at all traumatic i promise :) 100% did not involve his parents being assassinated in front of him, nope!)

Thankee much for the ask! Hope you enjoy these!

[ice-cap-k]

Whumptober 2023 Master List

Mostly for my own sake, I put together a list of all the fics I did for Whumptober this year. It's a varied list of MCYT stories (and one random OC one). Links and little summery blurbs are below if you're interested in checking any of them out.

My AO3 Profile can be found HERE.

And if you've already seen them and reacted to them, know I appreciate you!

Heads Will Roll: (Multi-chapter Third Life SMP Fae & Monsters AU) There are rumors of fae and monsters wreaking havoc on Dogwarts. King Ren sends his most trusted friends to get to the bottom of it.

Empty Sensations: (Hermitcraft) Doc gives False a surprise upgrade.

Just Gold: (Double Life SMP Dragon AU) Tango is a Dragon. Jimmy is a bird.

Star Fall: (Double Life SMP Retelling) Star Scott and moon Pearl were never compatible soulmates anyway.

The Engineer that Couldn't: (Hermitcraft Circus AU) The hermits are in a circus and Impulse forgets that sometimes it's okay to say 'no.'

Surviving Dead: (Hermitcraft) Cleo muses about how she became a zombie.

Gift Basket: (Dream SMP Fae AU) Schlatt needs to make a delivery.

Prison of Decay: (Hermitcraft Retelling) Zedaph's first trial run of Decked Out 2

Crash Course in Hero Work: (Hermitcraft Superhero AU) Stressmonster's friends are usually busy being heroes. She just wants to hang out with them.

In Their Structure: (Third Life Chrisrin's GemCYT AU) The Battle between Dogwarts and the deserters is over. Now what?

Ever Green: (Hermitcraft Supernatural Nature AU) Etho finds himself lost in Bdub's swamp.

xB Noir in Hybrid Theory: (Hermitcraft Noir AU) Local hybrids are going missing and xB is on the case.

Tough Love, or Love's Tough?: (Hermitcraft Slice of Life) Docm77 and Rendog are best friends. There's just one difference between the two of them that's hard to get past.

Monster Charm: (Hermitcraft Magic/Monsters AU) Mumbo runs into some trouble on the road to the next town.

Silent Squeak: (Rats SMP retelling) Scott's been acting odd since the janitor caught him. Owen's worried.

Into the Pirate-verse: (Pirates SMP retelling) Martyn starts his first day on the Pirates SMP with a splash.

Computer Virus: (Hermitcraft SMP) The server is glitching out, and it's starting to bother Cubfan and the other hermits.

Get Some Rest: (Phasmophobia/Hermitcraft) Skizz just wants to get some sleep, but Grian and Scar are having none of that.

Not So Empty Space: (Hermitcraft Season 8 fallout) Tango's on his own. In space.

The Girl Who Talked to Ghosts: (OC story) Unnamed OC #1 has lost a loved one and is mourning their loss, but Unnamed OC #2 keeps distracting them.

Hollowed Duty: (Dream SMP Fae AU) Puffy is the captain of the King's Guard. It's been tough getting to this point. Some new recruit reminds her just how far she's come.

Pan-Pan: (Hermitcraft Nuclear Fallout AU) Tango's trapped alone under a nuclear reactor.

Glassy Eyes: (Hermitcraft/Double Life SMP Magnus Archives AU) Ren and BigB tackle an escape room.

Assassin Games: (Hermitcraft Hitmen AU) Iskall and Etho are trained killers. Fight fight fight.

Distant Visions: (Hermitcraft Powers AU) Joe can see the future sometimes, and it comes in handy.

Kyanite: (Empires SMP Canon Divergence) What if Xornoth knew they were going to trap him in a crystal?

By the Light of Santa Perla: (Afterlife SMP Canon Divergence) What if Sausage didn't make it to the pearly gates? What if I put him in a box for a long time and see what happens?

Wings: (Origins SMP/Phil's Hardcore World Canon Divergence) Philza muses about wings, and past choices related to them.

[torhues]

kita shinshuke.

w. bittersweet, yet still sweet, dare i say

kita thinks he has lived enough.

it's december of twenty-twenty-two, almost new year, almost twenty-twenty-three, the numbers which felt like distant future around forty years ago. he has seen decades change, he's far too familiar with seasons, a little too well versed with minute climate changes to assume the weathers. things are new and unfamiliar and yet, oddly comforting. there are wrinkles on his body, white hair shining like silver on his head under the sunlight; kita is old, he's seventy-two, the younger you wouldn't believe.

time flows like water because it feels like just yesterday, kita had met you. as if it has only been a day since he accidently took his english notebook before test, just a day since you asked him for an answer during the exam, just a day since he cheated for the first time in his life; and it wouldn't be an overstatement to say, he felt like a criminal. even though it was you who poked his back with your fingers, whispering the question you needed the answer to, kita felt equally responsible.

things took a turn when he met you because you bought him taiyaki as a thank you gift for helping you during the test and for some odd reason, kita felt content. the second first thing he did with you was skipping school to attend music festival at a local stadium; the third one was going to the rooftop which was prohibited by the school premises; fourth one being, stealing flowers from a nursery because it was your birthday and he forgot to buy gifts, neither did he have money; and the fifth, kissing you in the classroom after the classes were empty.

kita had shared his firsts with you, from good things to bad, breaking rules, reforming them according to his preferences, in a way that made him feel better, told him that it was okay to let loose at times.

it feels like just yesterday, he asked you out for a date after saving up money for two months, not because his family was financially unstable, but because he didn't tell anyone about his relationship since he didn't know if it's okay to do so, because he wanted to buy tickets to meiko hirota's concert that you'd been dying to attend, because he wanted to take your responsibility from the very first day. it's as if just yesterday, you both were given extra home-work for passing chits in class, just yesterday since his eyes had started diverting to you during lessons instead of the board, just yesterday when kita cried the night you left for college and just yesterday, he felt like he could breathe again when you came back to him, saying studies didn't feel right.

it feels like just yesterday, kita married you at twenty-five.

he didn't believe the moment when you walked down the isle, when he slipped a ring onto your finger, when you looked like the prettiest version of yourself. kita didn't believe what has happening until he got home with his hands in yours, and yours lips against his, and his heart in your hand, with nothing to worry about. he dreamt about spending his entire life with you, and his dream was in front of him, in his hands. kita didn't believe in anything except the moment you said i love you in front of the moon peeping through your curtains and spirits of old lovers dancing in the air.

life felt like the romance novels he read to you on afternoon that were laced with laziness. walks through the sunflower fields resonated of a fever dream, where his hands were intertwined with yours, and the world would reduced to nothing. tiny dates, bunch of flowers— the first thing in the morning, a kiss shared on the benches by the bus stops, long walks up the town, picking grapes, sunsets by the bridges, names carved in the barks of trees, it felt as if you both never grew out of your old highschool love story.

time flows like water, because it feels like just yesterday, he held his son in his arms for the first time and today, kita is a grandfather to two daughters. years passed, the pace of your lives changed, but he still loves you like the very first day. pictures from his golden days that hung up on the wall never let him feel like he has grown old and is no longer able to go on day-long dates with you, because it feels like just yesterday, kita met you, and he has his whole life in from on him to spend with you, even with an IV, even next to a heart monitor, even when he has you next to him 'round the clock, telling him that you love him and having him say it back until when you couldn't hear it back anymore.

kita once asked you if it was fair for him to leave first, if you felt alright because he is leaving you alone, and you said there was nothing unfair about it because you promised to stay with him for his entire life, and you are living up to it. and it feels like just yesterday, you both celebrated your first wedding anniversary.

he would've stayed longer but kita has lived enough. he doesn't have anything left to do, no undone tasks, no loose ends. you're sitting next to him with your hands still intertwined with his because they don't want to let go. kita doesn't have any regrets because it feels like just yesterday, he fell in love with you and tomorrow, in some other life, he would fall for you all over again.

[thestobingirlie]

To answer your Byler question: it’s about the slow burn of it all and about the audience that the story will reach. I don’t really know what you mean by “with gay rep the way it is now” because the state of gay rep rn is just two characters getting together after a few episodes of no buildup. Regardless of Will and Mike being white (which I’m going to assume is what you’re getting at), there are very few modern gay stories out there that spend this long on a slow build and the careful construction of a seasons-long sexuality arc. That is what would make Byler so unique if it ever becomes canon, compounded by the fact that ST is the most mainstream of mainstream shows. This isn’t Heartstopper or Schitt’s Creek or another gay show whose audience is limited because it’s targeted specifically to gay people — Everyone and their mother watches it, and that means that everyone will end up witnessing Byler’s story if it happens. That is what would make this special and groundbreaking. 

Of course, no one should be dismissing the importance of Robin as a character on her own, and lesbophobes claiming that Robin and Vickie mean nothing is unfair, but your point about it being the other way around (aka Byler meaning nothing Vickie and Robin as a couple) doesn’t make any sense, as Rovickie has had barely had 5 minutes of screen time together compared to the way Byler has been built up since S1. Even Robin and Nancy got more screen time than them, hence Rovickie’s complete lack of popularity. Stranger Things had the opportunity to make Vickie important in s4 and chose not to do it. It’s no different than any other show, where as you said, the wlw couple is just in the background. It’s nice that ST included a love interest for Robin, but it would have been more meaningful if she was actually a character in her own right. 

(And Robin and Vickie are also white, btw.) 

okay.

first, i would like you to watch more gay shows, because from the sounds of it you are not very well versed. but that’s okay!

second, i mentioned will and mike are white because while there are a lot of white mlm ships around nowadays, that number obviously drops with gay characters of colour, and i wanted to be clear i was taking that into consideration.

third, and i presume this is where our opinions majorly differ, i don’t think will’s sexuality arc has been handled as well as it could have been. and i think if the majority of the audience is unable to recognise that mike is going through a sexuality arc, then byler won’t be recognised as a slowburn anyway.

fourth, other shows have been popular and included gay characters and couples. and people are already calling stranger things a “gay show” because they have one lesbian and one gay character. though i think it’s very sweet that you think people, at the bare minimum, watching byler happen will make byler groundbreaking. a ship isn’t groundbreaking just because it’s been seen by a certain amount of people.

now, you seem… riled by my comparison of rockie to byler lmao. i think you misunderstood my tags. so i suppose there’s a few things to address with this too lol.

so. i very very much so doubt byler has been built from s1, because the duffers didn’t plan past s1. we were never going to see those characters again. the duffers are largely making this shit up as they go along.

a lot of bylers i’ve seen on tumblr seem to have this… obsession with making stranger things the mike and will show, and it just isn’t. and i think they’re doing a disservice to the characters and the ship by imagining this importance.

and i don’t think rockie not having a main part is a bad thing. i want my gay characters to exist past their sexuality. rockie isn’t groundbreaking! so many ships have come before it lmao. but it doesn’t need to be groundbreaking. i’m okay with vickie being introduced this season as her love interest, and robin having a life and arc outside of vickie. that’s how most side romances go. that’s what happened with dustin and suzie! if vickie receives no time at all in s5 and rockie end up together off screen, then yes, obviously i’ll be annoyed at the lack of time given to them. but that’s a problem for future me.

my point was rockie having their moment, and dating, and us watching it throughout s5 would mean more to me than byler happening. not that everyone shouldn’t care about byler rep lmao.

(and i know rockie are white, babe, but wlw shows are being cancelled regardless of if they’re both white)

[thefringespod]

Its another beautiful #AudioDramaSunday so here is my roundup of listens that kept me from losing my mind this week

Starting this week is @thesiltverses which is absolutely taking my breath away every step of the way. Its unsettling and fascinating and just so fucking good. I believe in Méabh de Brún supremacy and The Silt Verses is just feeding my love of her VA work. Its also making me want to do a TSOSK relisten so that's getting added to the never ending list of shows I want to listen to

@doyoucopypod episode 7 hurt me <3 They gave the content warnings and I still wasn't expecting what happened and then I was experiencing every single emotion at once while at my desk at work. I'm absolutely loving Do You Copy and im also SO SCARED of what's coming next <3

Our dear friend Jonathan has returned to @re-dracula and has finally married his beloved Mina and definitely nothing bad has or will happen that would be silly. Even knowing what happens in Dracula I'm still so stressed about whats coming and THATS the power of good voice acting

The show is still in production BUT @souloperatorpod has been releasing official character art all week and it is INCREDIBLE!! I continue to be inhumanly excited for Soul Operator and am prepared to be incredibly annoying when it comes out <3

The fine folks at @chainofbeing are still crowdfunding! They've got about 2 weeks left to meet their goal, please help them get there

@levianpod is in their final week of crowdfunding and also need your help! Their first episode is out now so you can get a taste of this incredible world that's being put together, please show them some love

Recording is still in progress for the Fringes season 2 and bonus content is still being edited! First 2 episodes of season 3 have been written and the whole third season is officially outlined. There's a lot of fun stuff coming yalls way from us here on the Fringes!

And that's all for this week! The week ahead promises more Silt Verses and also new Techonamcy Project which I am definitely a normal amount of excited for (that's a lie I'm ridiculously excited for more Technomancy Project and always will be)

[spurgie-cousin]

Hoo boy SpurgieCousin, these anons sitting out the election to protest the war in Gaza or voting 3rd party to teach the democrats a lesson, or whatever their reason is have me stressed! As an elder millennial, I remember Ralph Nader peeling away enough 3rd party votes to give the election to Bush over Gore in 2000. Even though that administration gave us wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, the deaths of my friends, classmates, etc in those wars, the destruction of their futures when they came home with PTSD and missing limbs, lies about weapons of mass destruction, war crimes, Guantanamo bay AND the worst economic recession since the Great Depression- which was a fantastic time to try and enter the job market after college btw- I still think a 2nd Trump term would be worse. The only reason Trump’s first term was only a partial catastrophe was because it was incredibly incompetent and we were able to coast on a lot of momentum of the Obama years. I don’t think a 2nd term would flounder as much. I really really hope (beg)your readers reconsider their choice regarding Joe Biden. It’s not a perfect system and it’s not a perfect candidate-it never is. I appreciate their idealism- I was young once too- but not voting does not absolve them from the consequences of what may happen if this country elects Trump again. You will have complicity in negative things either way you vote, so please please vote in a way that does not make things worse. Ok, thank you for letting this geriatric millennial rant!

Oh I think that's a perfect example tbh. I'm a younger millennial so I was growing up as the Iraq and Afghanistan wars played out, and it was the first thing that ever really ignited a political rage in me. Horrible news for my very republican/George Bush voting family lol.

Unless they're very politically versed, I don't know if Gen Z or even the youngest tier of millennials really get how fucking awful the situation in Iraq and Afghanistan was. Just tons of civilians and American soldiers dead because of Bush's ego, and his ego is nothing compared to Trump's.

I think the only big difference is a lot of third party voters at that time didn't totally understand what Bush was capable of, whereas we know what a Trump presidency will be like..... we know if he promises to make gay marriage illegal and strip back more women's Healthcare rights and and more money to Netanyahu to destroy Gaza, he WILL try to do it. He's already had similar successes.

I have voted third party, I hate to discourage people from doing so because I think a third party candidate that we can rally behind is our only hope out of this 2 party shit show. We don't have anyone like that this election season, far left progressives hate Jill Stein, nobody else has the name recognition at this point to have any chance against with major candidate, and we know the end result will be either the trash can on fire that is our government right now or that trash can on fire with an added layer of dog shit on top, y'know? They're both bad sure but I just highly disagree that one isn't worse for vulnerable Americans and Gazans alike.

[scheodingers-muppet]

in honor of speak now tv about to drop, im bringing back my stranger things taylor song casting. i wrote a lot of this on my phone after listening to the album so apologizes for grammar errors or anything

mine: ronance, from Nancy's POV. Careless man's careful daughter. Sitting there by the water mirroring the boat scene. You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded. In the music video, we see the couple fighting when things get tough outside of the relationship, which we've also seen Nancy do, both when she was struggling with Barb and fighting with Jonathan when dealing with sexism from her job.

sparks fly: lumax. Max is the rainstorm, Lucas the house of cards. "I'm on my guard for the rest of the world, but for you, I know it's no good"

back to december: stancy; but just Nancy apologizing for how things ended, not them getting back together. "that night" not just being the Halloween fight but her cheating on him. I think she would feel bad about how things ended and I really want them to talk everything out in season 5. Plz. Also the line, "I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile...how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry" Obv with the tan skin and smile, but I hc that after Nancy told Steve what happened to Barb, he held her while she cried

speak now: byler, from Will's pov. Not in a literal wedding sense (though that might make a fun fic...) but more of Mike asking Will for advice about El and Will just finally coming clean. Maybe it doesn't go great and he doubles down with El and it causes some tension or maybe the roles are reversed and Mike comes clean then panics and doubles down and Will is trying to get him back

dear john: Joyce about Lonnie. I hate this man.

mean: El about Angela. Imagine if before the roller skate incident, she confided in Joyce and she told her to just confront her with her words, ya know? Like just call her out for being mean. Then when that doesn't work, she thinks, "well, what would Hopper tell me? Gotta fight back." Makes my heart melt

the story of us: Mike and El, from El’s pov. I just really feel like El would use story tails and romance stories, etc. to compare love to. This song to the letter fight just... ugh.

never grow up: Nancy. First verse to Holly, how she knows what's ahead, both in terms of alternate dimensions and being a teenage girl. She doesn't want her to have to deal with either of the two, just to stay little while she can. Second verse to Mike, seeing him start to become more of an adult and secretly missing her annoying kid brother. (brings more punch to the line “all your little brothers favorite songs���) Third verse takes place after she graduates, moving for school. Her night light mentioned in the verse was her graduation/farewell present from Holly, who says she's a big girl now and doesn't need it.

enchanted: elmax! From Max's POV. Imagine the second verse is them having a sleepover, playing truth or dare. I also love the use of referencing the story tail love metaphor again

better than revenge: stommy; Tommy singing about Nancy. idk it’s the closest I could get.

innocent: Steve and Nancy. First verse is about Nancy (lost your balance on a tight rope, lost your mind trying to get it back. wasn’t it beautiful when you believed in everything and everyone believed in you. , second about Steve. bonus points if you imagine them singing this to each other (not in a romantic way)

haunted: lumax (I’m sorry) Lucas begging for her to come back after her attack. Trying to move on and be happy but he can’t get over her. the chorus too, “somethings gone terribly wrong” “your eye’s gone cold” the bridge too “you’re not gone, you can’t be gone” you can also imagine it as like, she lives but can’t face the party without thinking about what happened too

last kiss: stancy / mike and el (parallel!) I think I’m gonna write up a post about all the parallels I see in the characters and dynamics, but I really love this one. Steve being El and Nancy being Mike. The Wheelers having severe issues with love (specifically saying the word) and hurting those who are head over heel for them. I see this from all of their perspectives, switching based off the lines. first verse is mileven (the plane line, “sit on the floor wearing your clothes” we’ve seen El wear clothes from pretty much everyone in the party) the second verse is stancy from Nancy’s pov (life of the party, “i’m not much for dancing, but for you i did” listing things he did she loved without saying “i love you”) bridge is rapid fire switching. “so I’ll watch your life in pictures like i used to watch you sleep” mike (bylers take a lot of family photos; i can imagine him seeing her in photos will sends) “i feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe” steve “and i’ll keep up with our old friends just you ask them how you are” el “i hope it’s nice where you are…it’s a beautiful day” nancy (i think she feels bad for how things ended)

long live: the whole party. they deserve to feel like hero’s and royalty after everything they’ve been though. i desperately need to find an edit to this

ours: Steddie. the town hates eddie atm and would probably not take well to king steve dating him. the lines “i love the riddles that you speak” and “any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored” i can also see lumax, but this is just such a light hearted song to me so i didn’t want to compare it to the racism we’ve seen be thrown at lucas and his relationship

superman: jopper. i love the idea of joyce hyping him up as her superman. also based on my parents (my dad was a first responder and this song always made me think of them for the “saving the world” aspect) “he’s not all bad like his reputation” i’m ignoring the sad parts and just focusing on the “go be a superhero, i’ll be here when you get back”

electric touch: steddie. eddie’s taylor, steve is patrick. “this could either break my heart or bring it back to life” “got a history of stories ending sadly” (eddie) “everytime i tried for love, it fell apart” (steve)

when emma falls in love: robin. i have no real proof, it just reminds me of her. i love the image of steve saying all of this about her ❤️❤️ (obvs pronouns change and stuff)

i can see you: steddie (it’s a very steddie coded album, leave me alone) from steve’s pov, talking about how he’s always had a crush on eddie and always noticed him but it breaks eddie’s brain fhat king steve has a crush on him

castles crumbling: steve angst time. talking about his “fall from social grace” and how he lost everything, both in terms of reconciling what he lost from being a jerk as king steve and what he lost when he was dethroned

foolish one; byler. “stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love” “it’s delicate but i’ll try my best to seem bulletproof” “maybe someday when we’re older this is something we’ll laugh about” “you haven’t written me or called” “i’ll get your longing glances but she’ll get your ring”

timeless; jopper. soul mates for real

[romancomicsnews]

Why it's the right time for a third season of The Spectacular Spider-Man

While Spider-Man 2 and Spider-Man: The Animated Series were my introduction to the character of Spidey, Spectacular Spider-Man was how I truly fell in love with the character.

I was obsessed with the show as a child. I had nearly every action figure, I'd rewatch episodes (shoutout "Group Therapy", it's my favorite), and even tried to make the theme song my ringtone.

As I went on in my years and consumed so much Spider-Man content, I always found myself comparing it to Spectacular Spider-Man.

Did the voice match as well as Keaton's, was the style of the character simple yet unique to what we've seen before, how are the quips?

I did this so much, that earlier this year I wondered if I was just wearing nostalgia glasses. That maybe I was misremembering as one does. So, I rewatched the entire show with my partner...

...and I was NOT.

It is concise, it is beautiful, and every episode at the very least is fun. There is no villain that doesn't get their due, there is no arc that isn't important, and there is not a moment where Josh Keaton is embodying the best voice for Peter Parker or Spider-Man.

As you might've been able to tell by my Young Justice article, I am a huge fan of the storytelling ability of Greg Weismann. But I think it is really put on display in this show. Every beat feels important, most characters have solid arcs, and suspense and danger always feel real and earned.

With my rewatch, Spectacular Spider-Man's recent inclusion in Across the Spider-Verse, and the fanbase continuing to rage on, I thought I'd put my two cents in as to why it's time this show is brought back.

Clearly I'm biased but I don't care.

1. New Villains

Spectacular Spider-Man had a great way of bringing in classic villains and even B-list villains and making them iconic.

My favorite example of this was The Shocker, who in this version was also Montana, leader of the Enforcers.

By doing this, they made one of Spider-Man silliest enemies into a character who feels like the most qualified killer in every room he's in.

Because such time has passed since season 2, new and different Spider-Man villains have entered the zeitgeist. The Prowler, The Spot, and Mr Negative are great examples of villains who weren't well known when the show was originally going on.

There were also several different villains teased during the 1st and 2nd season. The promise of Carnage, Hydro Man, Man-Wolf, and Hobgoblin never came to be, and fans of the show remember!

Much like every character, several villains in the show were left on cliffhangers. Hammerhead and Silver Sable were left without any bosses. Harry was left fatherless. Black Cat hates Spider-Man for letting her father stay in prison. And New York was left without a Big Man.

It'd be very exciting to see who might take over after a situation like that.

2. New Heroes

Unlike other superhero shows, Spectacular Spider-Man lacks many if any team ups.

Since it's cancellation, we have had several Spider-Verse crossovers, and Spider-Gwen and Miles Morales have entered the main stream.

Making Gwen a Spider and introducing Miles into the friend group could add more tension to the Peter and Harry dynamic as he feels left out and an eerie feeling something is going on.

The potential for Spectacular Spider-Man to enter a wider Marvel universe is now possible, with Disney now owning the rights for television.

We could see Peter join the Avengers, fight alongside Ms. Marvel, even switch bodies with Wolverine.

I'm not saying this SHOULD happen, but we do know that Greg Weismann knows how to build out a universe.

3. Not Enough (Good) Animated Spidey Content

Since Spectacular Spider-Man, we've had two different animated Spider-Man shows. Ultimate Spider-Man and Marvel's Spider-Man.

While Ultimate Spider-Man had a silly interesting tone, and an overarching story that was interesting at times, it paled in comparison to what came before.

Many of the characters lacked depth, and the jokes just didn't hit the same. But at least that show had charm.

Marvel's Spider-Man did not.

The animation was boring, the characters lacked the fun and whimsy of both the others, and every character felt exaggerated. It was painful to watch.

The next Spider-Man show we are getting is entitled Spider-Man Freshman year, set within the MCU.

While it looks promising and different, due to the writers strike, the MCU constantly pushing projects back, and Marvel Studios constantly over working VFX and animation studios, I don't see this one coming out any time soon.

Which leaves a window for Spectacular Spider-Man to fill. We've gone too long without animated Spidey content on television!!

and most importanty:

4. Josh Keaton is just the Best Spider-Man

Holland. Maguire. Garfield. Johnson. Lowenthal. Moore. The question keeps coming up. Who is the best Spider-Man?

But oh they are all wrong.

So soon the public forget how perfect Keaton's acting is. He nails the quips like Garfield. The inner monologues like Maguire. The awkward nerdiness like Holland. And he nailed the blacksuit storyline.

He perfected it all.

Keaton's Spider-Man is on pair with Kevin Conroy's Batman. It is the voice I hear when I read the comics, and it works on every level.

At 44, Keaton still sounds like Peter Parker, and could continue doing the show now as if it never ended. But frankly, we don't know how long that will last, or how long Keaton would be interested in continuing this version of the character. Now is the time to give him that call!

In this era of oh so many Spider-Men, it's time the king took back his crown. There's a reason he's the animated Spider-Man that made it into Across the Spider-Verse.

Now is the time to bring it back. The fans want it. Keaton wants it. It would be a win for everyone.

Let's just hope Disney isn't stupid enough to miss that.

If you'd like to support me you can:

Follow me at www.facebook.com/romancomicsnews

Follow me on Twitter @diegoleonroman

Follow me on Threads @romanleondiego

Help me pay my student loans by donating!

[deviousdevilx]

Watching KK3 and then watching season 4, but especially season 5 of CK is AN EXPERIENCE. A Silverusso experience! Terry ain't never getting over that Italian twink. Maybe in some alternate universe they are happily married and Terry's been railing Danny boy since '85, but here I love to see Terry as an obsessed pining loser. No spouse, no kids, no legacy, no Daniel. Only an empty mansion and obsession. Ooof.

I did the opposite, I never seen the third Karate Kid movie and just watched the second one last night lol

so I went into Cobra Kai with NO IDEA who or what Terry Silver was, and even then I was like "oh this man is nuts over Daniel", and like they do a good job with the flashbacks so those like me who never watched the third movie could pick up on why Daniel was like "we gotta take this man down".

And as a villain lover, Terry Silver was/is delicious! I LOVE an obsessive villain, TIG is playing him so perfectly.

I do like an alt verse and am writing one now. I'd love to see an alternate take of what would have happened if Daniel hadn't told Silver he was dropping out of the tournament? and like fully gave into being a Cobra Kai? Like Mike and Kreese were already there, hiding so would it have still gone down regardless of what Daniel came to say?

ooh another AU idea I have, what if Terry had won during episode 10 by bringing in a badly beaten Lawrence and Chozen, and used them to force Daniel to submit to him. Like before the kids can play that video. Terry could absolutely spin it as Daniel being the bad guy sending in the others to ATTACK HIM in his HOME?! the audacity of that twink lol then having his students break into his dojo.

yeah okay this got long lol