#arrow next gen fic

[arrowverse-next-gen]

I'll Never Let You Go

It's the third time. The third time Wes and Jon tried to say 'i do', and things turned into a disaster again.

The first time was Lex Luthor dropping the bomb (figuratively) on Superman and Jon that he had cloned Clark, and was hiding the kid below a kryptonite bomb (literally), for fun. That of course put the wedding off. And to be honest, Wes was glad that time. Everything felt too showy. Star City's mayor and IT Goddess' foster son set to marry into Metropolis reporting dynasty.

The second time they almost got hitched, they got all the way to the alter before a time worm ate half of Central City... He's blaming that one on Barry Allen.

And now here they are. It was supposed to be a small gathering just friends and family. But of course nothing can go right for them.

He's sitting in the bunker as Q finishes up the sutures on his right shoulder. He's telling him how to apply the balm to take care of it, and Wes should listen, otherwise he'll be left with one hell of a scar. But he can't seem to focus on anything.

Not when the image of Adrian was burned into his mind, kryptonite arrow knocked in place aiming for Jon and Lanie. His family.

The man had destroyed the city, killed his mother, and tried time and again to hurt the only people who had been willing to take him in, and now he threatened the family Wes had built for himself.

Without thinking he stepped in the way, taking the arrow straight into his shoulder. Lanie screamed, Jon reached for him but was pulled back by the other supers. It took Clark, Mon-El, Kara, and Allie to hold him still. And Wes broke watching. The one thing that could keep them apart his father used against them. And it felt like darkness across his heart.

"That's all of it," Q said as he pressed the bandage in place. "But I still want you to come in to the clinic next week for a follow up."

"Thanks doc," he quipped, trying to press a smile to his face. It's how he dealt with things when Adrian came into it. But Q's gaze told him he wasn't quite done.

"As someone with a psychotic father figure," he started but Wes cut him off.

"Don't okay," he sighed. "We can trauma bond later, but right now I can't okay?"

"That's fair."

He needed to talk to Jon, apologize for all that happened. Wes needed him to know that if this was too much, if he needed time to process Adrian being back, they could postpone again. As much as that thought broke his heart.

As if he sensed Wes' thoughts, Jon came over to them, the nervousness radiating off him in waves

"All good?" He asked, and while the question was directed at Quincy, Wes could tell Jon was talking mostly to him.

"Clear of kryptonite," Q replied. "Ronnie and HD took it off site to analyze the composite and see if we can figure out how zombie Chase got a hold of it."

"Zombie Chase?" Wes raised a brow.

Q shrugged. "Seemed shorter than recently resurrected evil dad." He looked between the two of them. " I'm gonna go go see if anyone else needs patched up."

Wes wished he hadn't left so abruptly, wanting to find a way to ease into the conversation he desperately didn't want to have with Jon. It's like he could feel the ground beneath him start to crumble. He wanted to reach out, to hold on to the life he'd been trying to build, even for just a second longer.

"I'm sorry--" "I wanna talk..."

Their words mixed and tangled together and Wes felt like his heart would crack.

"Wait?" Jon looked at him perplexed. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because my father shot at you with the only thing on this planet that could kill you."

Jon shook his head leaning in until their foreheads pressed together. Wes breathed in the scent of hay and the aftershave Jon had been wearing since they met all those years ago. Before Wes knew he'd fall so hard for the Smallville farm boy that he felt the earth would implode on itself if anyone tried to hurt him.

"You stepped in the way," it sounded accusatory.

"He was gonna kill you."

"And he *almost* killed you," Jon pleaded. His lips dusting a kiss on Wes' cheek .

"I had to protect you and Lanie," he replied. "You two are everything to me."

The longest of silences passed before Jon spoke. "Marry me."

Wes shifted to meet Jon's eyes. His love looked as if nothing could shake his resolve.

"Kinda been tryna do that for a few months now, if you hadn't noticed?"

He shook his dark locks. "Not a month from now when we rebook a venue. Not after we pick beef or chicken or new flowers. Now. Right here, right now. Everyone I need to be there is right here. So I don't want to wait. I wanna be with you forever Wes, so let's get married."

So in the end they weren't wearing pristine tuxes, and Lanie's hair wasn't in a braid crown atop her head. They didn't have speeches or rehearsed vows, but what they did have was even more special.

They had Oliver do the ceremony and shared a hostess cupcake that Lanie insisted on the biggest bite of. And they laughed when the cream filling covered the bridge of her nose.

It wasn't grand or spectacular. But in the end, it turns out, they didn't need all those things. Not when the end result was the three of them finally being the family they had always longed for.

[unfortunate-arrow]

general disclaimer: expect spoilers for both the book and the show, although my stuff usually has more book elements. auggie basset & ernest livingston are only in a modern au. in addition, all the important links to my bridgerton: next gen ‘verse can be found here.

𝓥𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓽’𝓼 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓷

Edmund • Miles • Charlotte • Mary

Charles • Alexander • William • Violet

Agatha • Thomas • Jane • George “Georgie”

Amelia • Auggie • Belinda • Caroline • David • Edward

Amanda • Oliver • Penelope • Georgiana • Frederick

John • Janet

Katharine • Richard • Hermione • Daphne • Anthony “Ant” • Benedict “Ben” • Colin • Eloise • Francesca “Frannie”

George • Isabella

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 (𝓪𝓴𝓪 𝓜𝔂 𝓞𝓒𝓼)

Juliet Knight • Grace Hill • Rupert Townshend • Arthur Townshend

Nell Shepherd • Emma Rutledge • Róisín O’Connolly • Jonathan “Jack” Fullerton

Stephen Ridlington • Eleanor Dane • Morgan Howell • Olivia Sharpe

Ernest Livingston • Phoebe Wycliff • Molly Campbell

Alice Linfield • Christopher “Kit” Barrington • Lucas Wivenly • Beatrice Winslow

Adeline Meadows • Jasper Prentice

Gabe Montgomery • Elizabeth Winslow • Neil Pemberton • Timothy Macmillan • Felicity Holroyd • Evie Wright • Vivian Marsh • Adam Howe • Nathaniel Moore

Lilliana Steele • Patrick O’Donovan

𝓢𝓷𝓪𝓹𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 𝓘𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮: 𝓐 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

Note: As they have canonical spouses, I have not included stories for Amelia Basset, Belinda Basset, Caroline Basset, and Amanda Crane. Auggie Basset and his story are set in a modern AU. Each story is a one shot with snapshots of moments in their love stories.

TBD [Edmund Bridgerton & Juliet Knight, 1843]

TBD [Miles Bridgerton & Grace Hill, 1844]

TBD [Charlotte Bridgerton & Rupert Townshend, 1846]

TBD [Mary Bridgerton & Arthur Townshend, 1851]

TBD [Charles Bridgerton & Nell Shepherd, 1846]

TBD [Alexander Bridgerton & Emma Rutledge, 1847]

Don’t Care About Religion [William Bridgerton & Róisín O’Connolly, 1848]

TBD [Violet Bridgerton & Jack Fullerton, 1848]

TBD [Agatha Bridgerton & Stephen Ridlington, 1847]

TBD [Thomas Bridgerton & Eleanor Dane, 1853]

TBD [Jane Bridgerton & Morgan Howell, 1851]

TBD [Georgie Bridgerton & Olivia Sharpe, 1860]

Tempting Into Marriage [David Basset & Phoebe Wycliff, 1844]

TBD [Edward Basset & Molly Campbell, 1859]

TBD [Auggie Basset & Ernest Livingston, 2043-44]

TBD [Oliver Crane & Alice Linfield, 1847]

TBD [Penelope Crane & Christopher Barrington, 1849]

TBD [Georgiana Crane & Lucas Wivenly, 1850]

TBD [Frederick Crane & Beatrice Winslow, 1857]

TBD [John Stirling & Adeline Meadows, 1855]

TBD [Janet Stirling & Jasper Prentice, 1851]

TBD [Katharine Bridgerton & Gabe Montgomery, 1848]

TBD [Richard Bridgerton & Elizabeth Winslow, 1856]

TBD [Hermione Bridgerton & Neil Pemberton, 1854]

TBD [Daphne Bridgerton & Timothy Macmillan, 1852]

TBD [Ant Bridgerton & Felicity Holroyd, 1860]

TBD [Ben Bridgerton & Evie Wright, 1863]

TBD [Colin Bridgerton & Vivian Marsh, 1863]

Hypothetically [Eloise Bridgerton & Adam Howe, 1861]

TBD [Frannie Bridgerton & Nathaniel Moore, 1862]

TBD [George St. Clair & Lilliana Steele, 1855]

TBD [Isabella St. Clair & Patrick O’Donovan, 1850]

𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼

Next Gen Fics:

In Which William Bridgerton Is Born Prematurely

I’d Still Dance with You

To See My Son Become a Father

Other Bridgerton Fics:

You Belong Somewhere You Feel Free

You Must Know You Are Beloved

The Aftermath

Bridgerton Writing Requests (closed)

Main Tags: #bridgerton next generation • #bridgerton next gen • #bridgerton next gen oc

[edledamianfan]

Fic idea where justice league is hiring new heroes and they ended up interning the supersons. The supersons disbanded and these two we're focusing on their own gig while catching up from time to time. I think they're like 18 21 here or 16 19

They ran through a few heroes but the one they liked the most was superboy jonathan kent 

They also ran down through a few heroes but they commented on damian in particular. They feel like damian is competent but they felt like he's a bit too cocky and just uncooperative in general from the last time they met him. (Basically no social skills but peak in everything else 💀💀, just like father frfr 💀💀) 

But supes went like, "oh its fine if superboy is there" And batman supports him with a hn and wonder woman trusts both of their judgement. Flash is also likes the idea + thinks it'd be entertaining. Green lantern, green arrow and aquaman is a bit sceptical. Martian is quite neutral but he does like jon kent. (Gen idk what is the current justice league members in the comics you do you) 

In the end they went through with it anyways. 

The next day Damian appeared first, he had same batman glare look and ominous in general but he seems a lot more approachable and a bit bit bit more "friendly" than he was before. They made small talk and that. 

And then jon appeared.

They both didn't know they were interns for the justice league so it was unexpected for the both of them. 

Jon being the person he is just zooms towards damian and hugs him going like "I didn't know you'd be here" Cheerfully.

And damian dumbfounded going like "Why is this buffoon here!", he tried to struggle out of his hold but it was futile. 

The majority of the Justice league finds this interaction quite intertaining. 

Scenes:

- For a few days they watched their duo and they were pretty amused and likes how they work well together (they do know they were a team prior but they also knew they disbanded years ago so it's quite surprising when they think about it, one joked they're probably really good friends) 

- They find their young adult/teenage antics and banters quite amusing, kinda brings life into the team (esp with their fathers) 

- The JL finds it surprising that Damian shuts up when Jon retorts him, esp when Damian was interrupting a member of the justice or when Damian wasn't nice. (the league went ooh so this is why supes says its okay if there is superboy, Dami is like an angy kitten) and another time when Jon is around Damian they noted that Jon looks like a dog following his owner.

- where the league listens to both of their earcoms (they were trying to figure out why they worked so well together) and its just them bantering with each other throughout the entire fight. 😭 (flash jokingly said opposite attracts, plus points if they ended the fight with "wanna order some chinese takeouts?" "Yeah sure")

- Stupid scene where Damian gives a very elaborate reasoning and jon going just Nu Uh and Damian rages. 🤣🤣

- when they reveal infos about each other to the JL through casual talk like damian being a vegetarian, liking animals and liking mangas (damian beats jon up for revealing the last one /j) When Damian reveals info about jon, its like a info bomb that is dropped out of nowhere (when on a mission etc.) 

- When Batman and Superman debates and the JL goes huh this is so familiar, looks at the supersons duo, oh so they get everything from them no wonder.

[tsarisfanfiction]

And So We Tangled Back Together

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Friendship Characters: Clarisse, Michael, Sherman He'd been dead for two years. For two fucking years. But Sherman could see the ghost, too, and her hand didn't go through him when she reached out. Also related/a sequel to Dawn Rises From The East, although full knowledge of that shouldn't be needed as long as you know it's a Michael Lives!AU where Michael was amnesiac for two years - a few people, including me, really wanted the Michael&Clarisse reunion, so I finally got around to writing it! I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Clarisse hurried up the hill, past the golden fleece and the sleepy Peleus, her spear clutched in one hand.

Sherman had been vague, when he’d IM’d her a few days earlier, telling her that she had to get to camp now and refusing to elaborate beyond assurances that there was not another war starting, Apollo had not ended up mortal for a third time, and no-one had died, and Clarisse didn’t like it.  She didn’t like not knowing, didn’t like the urgency in her younger brother’s voice, didn’t like the way he hadn’t seemed to be able to make his mind up on whether or not whatever needed her presence was a good thing or not.

He'd been excited, but in a subdued fashion, and anything that made Sherman subdued was not normally good news.  Things that made him excited…  Well, that was also a short list and combat-related activities normally topped it.  He was a son of Ares.

Being summoned mid-week, just as college was due to start for the fall, was concerning, and she hated that Chris hadn’t been able to come with her – his nursing course didn’t allow for things like summer breaks, and he didn’t have any days off he could take until next month, and Clarisse hadn’t been willing to wait that long when Sherman wanted her at camp now.

She missed his solid presence at her side, though.  With so much uncertainty, she could have done with it.

Sherman was waiting for her at the entrance to camp, where the ancient archway still stood and welcomed demigods into camp, the same way it had done for the years she’d lived there.  His back was ramrod straight, and his arms were crossed.  Tension screamed out from the set of his shoulders, and he had a new scar zig-zagging its way down his face since the last time Clarisse had seen him in person.

She hadn’t got the story out of him during their last IM, when she’d first seen it, and that either meant it was an embarrassing scar, or whatever Sherman had summoned her for was more distracting than showing off his latest badge of honour.

Clarisse hoped it was the former, and not just because it was her duty as his older sister to mock him for stupid scars, and get payback for all the years where he’d been a little shit, before the war – the first war, against Kronos, because they’d been through two together and word had it that there had been more battles during Apollo’s mortal phase that she’d missed and Sherman hadn’t – had sobered him up and he stopped challenging her for the rights to lead the cabin every other day.

“Report!” she barked at him as her march came to a stop in front of him.  He’d grown again; she had to look up a little, and Clarisse herself wasn’t short.  “What the fuck needed me here?”

She glanced past him, at the camp, and couldn’t see anything wrong.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and that didn’t track with Sherman’s posture, or the fact that he’d insisted she come at all.

“It’s…” he started, stopped, and gritted his teeth, although he didn’t look away from her.  “It’s Michael.”

Michael?

The name immediately brought to mind fucking red and gold fletched arrows, shouts and insults, a figure too small for his age but with enough of attitude to more than make up the difference.

It had been two years since Manhattan, since she’d finally caught sight of all the Apollo campers – the surviving Apollo campers – and realised the short bastard was missing.  When she’d looked for him and heard that he’d fucking died, that there wasn’t even a body to burn.

Two years since she’d watched an empty golden shroud burn and cursed him for doing what she’d told him to for the first time in their lives as black guilt coiled in her gut.  She’d told him to die and he’d done exactly that, taking out a bridge in the process and halting Kronos’ advance, bought time for the rest of his siblings to flee to safety.

Two years since he’d sacrificed his life to protect his siblings and Clarisse had discovered the hard way that the bastard had shot his own fucking hole in her heart and that with him gone, there was a gap in her life that she’d never even noticed he’d filled until he didn’t, anymore.

But Michael was a common fucking name, and after two years there was no reason to bring him up again, so it had to be someone else, some other Michael-

“It’s him,” Sherman said, clearly reading at least some of her thoughts on her face, and Clarisse scowled as he continued.  “Michael Yew.”

Hearing his name, his name with no room for misinterpretation, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“The bastard died two fucking years ago,” she snapped, because Michael was complicated and Sherman knew she’d fucking mourned him already, in the privacy of their cabin late at night when most of them were trapped in nightmares and she couldn’t even fall asleep – didn’t need to, when it felt like the nightmares hadn’t bothered to fucking wait.  “Why the fuck are you calling me to talk about that short asshole that went and got himself killed like a fucking imbecile two years later?”

“Nice to see you again, too, bitch.”

The voice came from behind her, and up a little bit, and it was familiar, not just the sound of it which had haunted her memories and her nightmares for years, but the direction, too.

She whirled around, spear igniting out of habit and crackling in her ear as her eyes fell on Thalia’s old fucking tree, and the small figure perching in the lower branches, looking like he belonged there.

The fucking ghost perching in the lower branches.

Clarisse crossed the distance to the tree in the blink of an eye, her spear still crackling as she glared up at the apparition.  Behind her, Sherman let out a string of curses, making it clear that he saw him, too, so Clarisse wasn’t fucking hallucinating.

“I was going to tell her first!” he was growling up at the tree, but the small bastard perched there wasn’t even looking at him.  Familiar dark brown eyes, glinting the slightest tint golden in the sunlight, were glued to Clarisse.  Too familiar.

“Get the fuck out that tree,” she ordered, because it hurt, seeing him in the tree as though he’d always fucking been there, and also because she couldn’t see him properly, couldn’t be certain-

“Turn that thing off first,” he demanded, with a sharp glance at her spear.  “I’m not getting fucking electrocuted.”

Two years ago, Clarisse would never have done anything the bastard asked, but she needed fucking answers and she didn’t need the electricity active to skewer the bastard if this was wrong, if it all was all fucking wrong.  A flick of her wrist and she had the electricity deactivated, but she didn’t relax her grip on the weapon.

“Down,” she growled, and he dropped to the ground, barely disturbing the pine needles in the process, because the bastard had always been able to move through the trees like a fucking ghost.

He didn’t look like her memories.  Not quite.  His hair was longer, and his face gaunter, devoid of the teenage softness that he hadn’t quite lost entirely by Manhattan but seemed to be long gone, now.  His clothes didn’t quite hang right, not a perfect fit but more like he’d lost weight – like Chris had been, in the aftermath of the Labyrinth.

He looked older, but it had been two years.  Of fucking course he looked older.

He’d fucking grown, too, still a short fucking bastard but not as short as Clarisse remembered, another inch or two added to his height since she’d last seen him.

He was still a good foot shorter than her, though, and the way he looked up at her, chin tilted but always defiant, always challenging, never deferring, was the same it always had been, except there was a look hiding in the depths of his eyes that Clarisse could recognise, because it was coursing through her, too.

Fucking uncertainty.

Clarisse did not like being uncertain.

She lashed out with her empty hand and he was quick, had always been quick, but not quick enough to completely evade her at that range as she grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and bodily dragged him closer.

He’d never weighed much, by virtue of being so fucking tiny, but he was still a solid body and the resistance that fought against her was grounding.

He was there.

She was actually gripping Michael fucking Yew’s collar.  Two years after he’d fucking died.

Except there hadn’t been a body, and shit.

He was tugging back, glaring at her as he fought for his freedom, but it wasn’t anything like the struggles he used to do if she caught him.  It felt more performative than genuine, and the look in his eyes, that flicker of uncertainty was still there.

Clarisse leant her spear against the trunk of the tree and gripped him with her other hand, too, vaguely aware that he was straining on his tip-toes and that she was bearing a considerable percentage of his weight.  His hands wrapped around her wrists, tight enough to bruise, but she ignored them.

“Fucking answers,” she spat, leaning into his face.  “What the fuck, you bastard?  Two fucking years and you show your ferrety-ass face again?”

He bared his teeth in a snarl and it was familiar.  Normal.

Except that look in his eyes hadn’t gone away entirely.

“Clarisse!”  More hands joined Michael’s, and Sherman pushed her back, enough that she wasn’t in Michael’s face anymore even though she still had a solid grip on him and wasn’t letting go until she got her answers.  “Damn it, Michael, this was why I was going to tell her first!”

“She’s hearing it from me,” Michael snapped back, and Clarisse agreed with him.  Sherman meant well, but this had never been his fight.

“Back off, Sherman,” she warned, not looking away from Michael.  “Michael, talk.”

“Let go of me,” the son of Apollo shot back, but his fingers were still digging into Clarisse’s wrists, the grip white-knuckled, and Clarisse got the sudden, bizarre thought that she wasn’t the only one using physical contact to ground herself.

Had she been a hole for Michael, too?  But that didn’t make fucking sense, and even if it did, Michael had been the one missing.  She’d been at camp for another fucking year before leaving, easy to find if he’d just fucking tried.

She pushed him back, against the bark of the tree next to where her spear leaned, but let his feet fall flat on the ground again.  She didn’t let go, though, and nor did Michael.

“Talk,” she demanded, ignoring Sherman as he grumbled something and backed away.  He had always been smart enough to know when he wasn’t wanted, even if he was usually enough of a little shit to ignore it.

Michael glared at her, looking pointedly at her grip on his collar, but he spoke anyway, and Clarisse was not prepared for the answer.

“Traumatic amnesia,” he said shortly, daring her to challenge him.  It was absurd but it fit.  “When I fell from that fucking bridge I lost everything.  Didn’t even know my own fucking name.”

Clarisse remembered Chris, remembered the way he barely knew who he was, the way he didn’t recognise anyone, didn’t recognise her.  It hadn’t quite been amnesia but parts of it might as well have been.

Even two years ago, when she told Michael to fucking die, she wouldn’t have wished anything like that on anyone, not even Michael.

But it fucking fit, because Michael was an asshole but he would never put his siblings through that shit, never let them think he was dead if he had any say in the matter.  Not before Lee’s death, and definitely not after it.

If Clarisse was honest, Michael wouldn’t even pull that shit on her.  He was a sneaky bastard that loved to creep around in trees and hide and ambush with his fucking arrows out of nowhere, but faking his own death wasn’t his style.

“Where were you?” she demanded, because he had to be somewhere for the past two fucking years.

He had the audacity to fucking shrug at her, despite the grip she still had on his collar.  “Homeless.”

“For two fucking years?” Clarisse pressed, because homelessness and demigods was a common combination but it was also a dangerous combination.

It did explain why he’d lost weight, though.

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, but he was defensive about it, a challenge in his eyes that looked familiar.  His what are you going to do about it challenge.  “Will found me three weeks ago.”

Three weeks.

Michael had been on the streets for two fucking years, and amnesiac the whole time, because if he hadn’t been he’d have found his own way straight back to camp.

Fuck.

“Fucking bastard,” she mumbled, but even she could tell there was no heat in her voice.  “You- fuck.  Mr D get your head back on?”

Michael’s face twisted into something that didn’t look happy.

“They came back on their own after Will found me,” he said, and Clarisse was no expert but two years of amnesia and everything coming back just like that didn’t sound right.

“What the fuck?” she demanded, and Michael still didn’t look happy.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snapped, and his grip on her wrists loosened, less restraining and more starting to push her away again.  She still didn’t let go, didn’t think she could let go.  “Get off me.”

“Clarisse-” Sherman said from behind her, but she ignored him.  She ignored Michael giving up on prying her hands away and shoving at her chest, too.  He’d never had the strength to overpower her, and that hadn’t changed.

Instead, she stepped in closer, towering over him and leaning the top of her head against the tree.

“You were fucking dead,” she said, and it was a good thing that the only people around were Michael and Sherman, because there weren’t many people she was comfortable letting down any walls around, and Michael didn’t make the list except this was about him and she had two years’ worth of guilt-laden grief that she’d never thought would have anywhere to go.  “I told you to die.”

Michael stopped trying to shove her away, his hands finding her biceps and resting there instead, not gripping tightly like he had been, earlier, but not trying to pry her off, either.

“I know,” he said, and it was calm, calmer than Michael usually was.  The fact that it wasn’t an argument, that he’d agreed with her was strange, too.  Wrong.  “I said some fucking stupid shit, too.”

He sounded tired, and strained.  It was probably the closest thing he’d ever said to an apology, to her.

Except it wasn’t, because he’d given her the chariot, back then, calling for a truce, asking for help, and she’d thrown it back in his face.  He’d only turned nasty after that, when she’d rejected the words but taken the chariot anyway, and even looking back she didn’t think the truce had been a true apology rather than a last ditch attempt to get the Ares cabin to fight, but in the weeks, months, years since, she’d realised how big even that had been, for Michael.

She’d been scared.  It had taken her time to admit it even to herself, but she had been scared.  It had taken her longer to realise, to accept that Michael had been scared, too.  Scared enough to ask her for help, but she hadn’t recognised it – and even if she had, she didn’t have enough faith in her younger self to think she’d have done anything different if she had.

“You bastard,” she grumbled, but it didn’t have any heat in it.

Nor did Michael’s returned, “bitch.”

She still didn’t let go of him, although her grip relaxed, fingers tangled in fabric with no desire to find their way out.  Michael didn’t start pushing her away again, either, his hands falling down by his sides as he leant back against the tree.

That wasn’t right, either.  Michael didn’t do that, but then Clarisse didn’t just stand there, loosely holding onto him with no intention of a fight, either.

But ten minutes ago, she’d thought he was dead.  She’d spent two fucking years believing him dead, living with the echoes of their last argument in her ears.

She didn’t think she wanted their arguments to resume again.  Not after how they’d ended last time.  Michael wasn’t spoiling for a fight, either, as passive around her as she’d ever seen him, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, they were in agreement for once.

What she didn’t know was what to do about it.  They didn’t do agreements, didn’t do civility.  They’d never managed that, always needed a buffer between them – it was no coincidence that their arguments had worsened after Lee’s death.

Sherman was still there.  She could feel his silent gaze on the back of her head, observing but not saying anything.  He’d never been enough to stop their arguments before; she didn’t think he’d manage now, either, if they started.

But he’d seen her mourning Michael, two years ago, and she’d been worried then about losing his respect, which she’d had to fight so hard to earn in the first place, but he hadn’t turned on her then, and two years on, she knew he wouldn’t turn on her now.  It mattered less now, anyway.  She was still his big sister but she wasn’t head counsellor, not anymore.

“Don’t fucking do that again,” she muttered, and felt Michael freeze.  “I thought you were fucking dead,” she added, the words spilling out before her brain could catch up.  “Dead, you bastard.”

Michael shifted, still trapped between her body and the tree, but it still wasn’t a fight to escape.  Instead, Clarisse felt a light pressure on her chest as his head leant forwards.

“I’m not dead,” he said, stating the fucking obvious, but it was tired, Michael was tired.

Clarisse was tired, too.  Too tired to turn it into an argument when it was obvious that Michael wasn’t angling for one.

“You fucking bastard,” she said flatly.  It wasn’t an apology, she wasn’t quite ready to apologise for the shit from two years ago even though she knew she needed to, but it was something and the way the weight increased against her chest told her that Michael understood.

She still wasn’t prepared for the word he mumbled, barely audible.  Just one word, a question and an offer and a promise all at once, and Clarisse couldn’t say no.  Should’ve said yes years ago, when there was a chariot between them, had regretted it in the years since and never expected to be faced with it again.

“Truce?”

Clarisse didn’t plan on making the same mistake twice.

“Yeah,” she said, and her hands finally fell from Michael’s collar.  “Truce.”

[ganymede-princess]

who the fuck is ganymede-princess?

☆ Hi! If you clicked this link, you're curious about who I am, so here is an info-dump of my gen-Z-unlimited-internet-access-at-a-formative-age villain origin story ☆

But first, rapid fire facts:

Name: Aenya/Erin

Age: 21

Sign: Scorpio sun, Virgo moon, Pisces rising

Nationality: Australian 🇦🇺🦘

Gender/pronouns/sexuality: female, she/her, somewhere on the bisexual spectrum

Current fandoms: ASoIaF/GoT/HotD, Interview with the Vampire, Doctor Who

Main writing style: MxF, canon x reader/oc, first or third person, SFW

On to my fandom story:

TW: mentions of grooming and sexual exploitation

I have been a part of various fandom spaces for 10+ years, starting with a pre-teen obsession with those "who is your [insert fandom here] boyfriend" quizzes on Quotev, where you would answer some arbitrary questions and they would serve you up a gif of some teenage boy and a cute blurb about how you two got together. This quickly evolved into ravenously consuming The Hobbit, Maze Runner and Narnia fan fictions like a starving creature that can only be sustained by pink fairy floss levels of mindless sugar-rush fluff. Shout out to the long ago deleted Edmund Pevensie fic 'Cupid's Arrow.' You never forget your first...

From there, I published my first fics to Wattpad at age 13; a series of short and shit Game of Thrones imagines. Yes, I was far too young to be watching that stuff, but my parents were notoriously liberal with what I was allowed to watch (they showed me The Rocky Horror Picture Show at age eight.) I gained a few thousand views from other gullible kids, and the praise I received was my first true addiction. When I fell deep into an obsession with 60s-80s rock music around my 14th birthday, I fed this addiction by writing xreader fics about the likes of John Lennon, David Bowie, and Syd Barrett. As a lonely, self-deprecating kid from rural Australia, I found a sense of community in these fandom spaces, and I have sought them out time and again even into my early 20s.

At age seventeen, while deep in the classic rock community and with the world on the cusp of a global pandemic, I was groomed by an older man. He was tall, Scandinavian, and beautiful, with long blonde hair, and had been in a glam metal band in his early 20s before moving on to a psychedelic rock band in his late 20s to early 30s, much like the men I idolized. It was the perfect trap, and during this time my obsession with him consumed me. I pivoted away from fan fiction, feeling like it would be a betrayal to my "boyfriend" to write about any other man in a romantic context (and frankly I was incapable of even thinking of anyone else in that way at the time) and instead fervently wrote dozens of love poems over the course of the next eighteen months. Eventually, I got away from him. Or he grew bored of me. I don't know. But I got out and I got wise, and started to live my life outside of the internet.

When I was nineteen, I saw what would become one of my favourite bands live in concert at a shitty university bar in my home city. The Murlocs. I fell into a deep obsession with the lead singer of the band, and this reignited my love for fan fiction. Let Me Mend the Past would become the first fic published under the ganymede-princess moniker, and the rest is too recent to be history.

I owe so much of my identity to fandom culture. My love for writing, for live music, for film making, it all stems from fandom, and despite the danger and depravity my young self was exposed to, I am forever grateful to it. If you take one thing from this autobiographical ramble let it be this: keep your community alive, and for gods' sake look out for eachother.

Trivia:

One of my most formative fandoms was the Beatles. I got into them through my devotional obsession with Thomas Brodie-Sangster (who stars as Newt in the Maze Runner movies) which lead to me trying to watch every one of his movies, which happened to include Nowhere Boy in which he portrays Paul McCartney.

My username ganymede-princess comes from a lyric from the King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard song Ice V, which is part of their overarching concept album universe, known colloquially as 'the Gizzverse.' This is a fandom unto itself, and one that I hold near and dear.

During the first few months of my time in the King Gizzard fandom, I went by the name Iris (after my favourite flower and the song by the Goo Goo Dolls) because I was so ashamed of how much I loved Ambrose and didn't want him to know who I was. Before I had been in the fandom for a year, I had already met both Amby and Joey, so you can see how that turned out.

I met Ambrose through befriending his mum on Instagram, approaching her at a gig, and her offering me a AAA pass to get backstage and meet him. I think this was somewhat unethical and I'm still embarrassed about it...

My longest fan fiction ever is the AO3 exclusive We Share the Same Sky at over 38k words and counting. While it is not explicitly autobiographical, it is my most personal work in many ways, not the least of which being the fact that I hold Isaac very close to my heart; closer than any other musician.

[felicitysmoaksx]

JJ’s Fic and Moodboard Masterlist Updated 7/14/24

Moodboards

Best Friends Brother AU || One Chicago || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Sarah Reese: Police Officer || One Chicago || Sarah Reese Centric

Single Dad!Severide || One Chicago || Kelly Severide Centric

Halstead Brothers Adopt Reese || One Chicago || Gen

Merlyn Twins au || One Chicago & Arrow || Tommy Merlyn & Connor Rhodes

One Chicago x Jatp Fusion || One | Two | Three || One Chicago & Julie and The Phantoms || Mult-ship

The Andi AU || One | Two || One Chicago || Sarah Reese Centric & Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

The Resident x One Chicago Crossover || One | Two || The Resident & One Chicago || Gen: Conrad Hawkins & Sarah Reese

Ballet au || One Chicago || Sarah Reese Centric

Voight Family Values || One Chicago || Gen and Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Sarah Reese as a Former Black Widow || One Chicago & Marvel Studios || Gen: Sarah Reese & Bucky Barnes

The Sisters Halstead || One Chicago || Gen: Makayla Ward & OC

MCU Spiderman Meets The Amazing Spiderman || Marvel Studios || Gen

Mockingbird || One Chicago & DC TV || Gen: Sarah Reese & Dick Grayson & Mult-Ship

Severide & Reese Step-Siblings au || One Chicago || Gen: Sarah Reese & Kelly Severide

Burgstead Pregnancy AU || One Chicago || Jay Halstead x Kim Burgess

Superstar Juke AU || Julie and The Phantoms || Julie Molina x Luke Patterson

NHL Star! Connor Rhodes || One Chicago || Connor Rhodes Centric

WHAT IF NESTA COULDN’T PHYSICALLY SPEAK IN ACOTAR? || ACOTAR || Nesta Archeron x Cassian

What if Paulo took Daisy with him when he left Clump? || Irreverent || Gen: Paulo Keegan & Daisy

Some Kind of Haunted || One | Two || One Chicago & Criminal Minds & CBS FBI International || Gen: Brian Lang & Connor Rhodes && Connor Rhodes x Sarah Reese

FICS

Marvel Comics

The One Where Tony Survives (Alt Endgame Universe) || WIP (Series)

A Handful of Moments I Wished I Could Change (And a Tongue like a Nightmare that Cut like a Blade) || Complete || One Shot

Two Worlds (One Family) || Complete || One Shot

The Darcy Lewis Chonicles (Series)

Just Tony || Darcy Lewis and Tony Stark || One Shot

Julie and The Phantoms

Found a Time and Space || WIP || Multi-Chapter || Juke & Williex

In These Small Hours (Series) || Complete

Hollywood Tragedy Aftermath || Complete || Bobby | Trevor Wilson Centric

Do You Hear That Love? || Complete ||  One Shot  || Willie x Alex

Melancholy Kaleidoscope || Complete || One Shot  || Julie x Luke

Little Wonders (These Twists and Turns of Fate) || Complete || One Shot || Julie x Luke and Willie x Alex

One Chicago 

You Held Me Up on Your Shoulders Way Up High || Chicago Med and Chicago Fire || WIP || Multi-Chapter || Sarah Reese and Kelly Severide 

It Was a One Night Stand Until I Woke Up Next to You || Chicago PD || WIP (Series)

It Was a One Night Stand Until I Woke Up Next to You || WIP ||  Multi-Chapter || Jay Halstead x Kim Burgess 

Blood Thicker Than Water || One Shot || Complete || Jay Halstead x Kim Burgess

Married But As Friends (Series) Chicago Med || Complete

Delicate || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

You Could Still See the Best in Me || Chicago Med ||  Complete || One Shot || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Cause I Clutched Your Arms like Stairway Railings || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Freeze Time, Baby Rewind  || Chicago Med ||  Complete || One Shot || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Friends Don't Look at Friends That Way || Chicago Med || Complete || Multi-Chapter || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Come Back Be Here (Series) || Complete

Never Stop || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Guilty by Association || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

If I Drift in the Wrong Direction (You Turn the Tide) || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

You & Me || Chicago Med || Complete || Multi-Chapter || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Reader Imagines (Series)

Apartment Fire || One Chicago || Complete || One Shot || Jay Halstead &  Disabled fem!reader Halstead sibling

Doctor Visit  || One Chicago || Complete || One Shot || Halstead brothers Will & Jay Halstead &  Disabled fem!reader Halstead sibling, and Manstead if you squint

One Chicago Soulmate AU || WIP (Series)

Your Words (Burned into My Skin) || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

In Your Eyes (and it all makes sense) || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Sweet Nothing (All You Wanted From Me Was) || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Long Story Short  || WIP (Series)

Rare as a Glimmer of a Comet  || Chicago Med || Complete || One Shot ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Voight Family Values || WIP (Series)

Yeah, I Just Wanna Take You Home || Chicago Med || Complete || Multi-Chapter ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Hold On, I Still Want You  || Chicago Med || Complete || Multi-Chapter ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Interlude: What If || Chicago Med || Complete || Drabble || Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

Bottled Up Feelings are Silently Screaming (You Were Breaking Down) || Chicago Med || WIP || Multi-Chapter ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

DC TV

What Happened in Russia, Didn’t Stay in Russia || Arrow || Oliver x Felicity (An AU season 2 rewrite) || WIP (Series)

You’ll Always Be My Girl (or Felicity’s first scar and Oliver’s lecture) || Complete || One Shot

Slade’s Promise (Or Oliver’s Overprotective But with Good Reason) || Compete || One Shot

DC TV/Chicago Med Crossover

Mockingbird & Co.

The Same Little Breaks In Your Soul || Chicago Med || Arrow || Titans ||  WIP || Multi-Chapter ||  Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes

MY REDBUBBLE SHOP

MY KO-FI PAGE

[chacusha]

I skipped and selected a ton of questions from the writer meme for you:

2, 3, 7, 12, 13, 14, 16/17, 25

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

My additional tags are kind of a mess:

#1: Fanart <- not a fic tag #2: Fluff <- I thought this tag was overrepresented by my Fluff Bingo but actually, nope, it's accurate #3: Community: westerosorting <- just a tag I use to mark stuff I made for this community #4: Drabble <- dominated by old Disney works I archived last year #4: Missing Scene <- accurate tagging but boring

Tied for 6th are Meta (<- not a fic tag) and Character Study. I guess this is accurate (including that I am still more of an artist than a writer!). It's also interesting to me how many of these tags lean gen. Pining didn't even make it?!

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I kind of discussed this already but giving myself/the characters some closure on a very messy unresolved relationship in canon is pretty common. Other features of my fic include pining/getting together fic; punchy (abrupt?) endings; characters who have identity issues working out who they are (this is actually a special case of the first thing, where the "messy unresolved relationship" is between the character and themself).

Not sure about details. I do a lot of introspective fic, so my fic is pretty heavy on characters' attitudes and inner monologues/feelings.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

To be honest, I am terrible at worldbuilding and only do it when not doing it would leave a glaring hole in the story.

Probably the most worldbuilding I've had to do is in my Ambassador of Love and Peace fic, and the main thing I'm proud of is my headcanons of what life as a temple acolyte is like, plus various details I've filled in about the political situation in Eisenberg and Harena.

For Star Trek, the worldbuilding I'm most proud of is my Mirrorverse Ferengi headcanons, but I haven't published anything with that yet.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

I was having a lot of trouble with this question and the next one, but I thought of something: Slap-Slap-Kiss ("I hate you!" "Well, I hate you!" *characters passionately kiss*). I used to HATE this trope -- it was my least favorite 90s rom-com feature, easily in my top 3 worst tropes more generally, and I would include it in my Do Not Want (DNW) lists in exchanges. But ever since getting into Quodo, obviously I can't put it in my DNW list anymore because it's so core to Quodo, but I wonder if I have just mellowed out on the trope more generally?

The reason I used to hate it was because it was such lazy writing, where often people would collapse "I am attracted to you but there are these good reasons why I hate you and that makes things complicated" (which is a very legit source of tension and drama in a romance) into "ho ho these characters are sniping at each other from day 1 -- ~love at first sight~". Which is very WTF and also plays into all these misogynistic depictions of women where they need to be won over and no means yes and spitfire women are just asking to be tamed, etc. etc. Also, I just prefer ships where two people just really enjoy each other's company rather than are bickering all the time -- like, why would I want to watch people be in a relationship where they never have an unambiguously pleasant moment together? It's so depressing!

But Slap-Slap-Kiss works so well for Quodo (they are every 90s rom-com trope…), I think because their dynamic is meant to be comedic and it fits so well into their established characterization -- they're just kind of ridiculous enough to go from yelling at each other to kissing and not see anything weird about that -- and because they obviously enjoy the bickering and provocation aspects of the relationship too. It's possible I now can appreciate a bit more when sexual tension manifests itself as annoyance and yelling rather than just being baffled that anyone could get aroused when they're annoyed.

A similar thing happened with the tsundere character type. I used to just not get the appeal at all; tsundere characters were always my least favorite in media; etc. But I think my affection for Odo (who is a very pure tsundere type, at least when it comes to Quark) has kind of rubbed off on other tsunderes in fiction. I'm not sure -- results still inconclusive.

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore?

This one I still can't think of anything for. I think a lot of my tastes have stayed stable over time. I am very easy to please and like all sorts of trope-y fiction. Give me all the high school AUs and crack fic and There Was Only One Bed and identity porn and...

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

Not really because I live dangerously. :P By that I mean for the most part, I will give any trope a try. And for tropes I'm not super into, I'm not sure it's the kind of situation where there are certain people I trust to handle it -- they're just not things I enjoy no matter how well-written or who's doing the writing.

That said, I am in theory interested in (for example) reading fic that delves into Odo and Mora's complicated relationship, but I have kind of learned the hard way to just ignore Odo+Mora-centric fic in the wild because so much of it contains Mora-bashing either in the summary/author notes or in the fic itself and I'm not really interested in that kind of story (in general, I don't like reading character- or ship-bashing stories). So that would be an example of a topic I would only check out if written by someone whose writing I trusted (for example, I would probably trust people who write in DW/AO3-based exchanges to handle it in a way I find interesting more than a person in the wild). So yeah, probably more generally, bashing fic or something adjacent to that isn't something I'd seek out, but would be willing to read if I knew that the writer really liked the characters they were writing about, even if the characters are flawed.

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

This is hard because I love AUs so much and will gobble up anything. For Quodo... Read and loved: Soulmates AU, Fantasy AU. Would love to read: Hunger Games AU.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

I don't have a highly specific one, but I have an angel and demon AU for Quodo and a superhero AU for Altdea/Rindea that I'd love someone else to write (I don't have the ideas and/or time).

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

Probably a bit boring but in terms of websites, it's probably an online word counter when doing writing sprints (because the text editor I use most often doesn't come with one) and a thesaurus (because sometimes I struggle to find the word I'm thinking of, like, "What's the word that means X but has somewhat of a Y connotation," or whatever -- I'll look a nearby word up in the thesaurus until I find what I'm looking for). Wikipedia as a place to start for basic research. Fan wikis and Chakoteya.net for quick canon review.

Thanks for the ask! 😄

a collection of questions i, as a writer, would love to be asked !!!

[so-caffeinated]

Fic housekeeping note -

I’ve been trying to figure out how best to post these AU stories while both making them easy for readers to find and without misrepresenting them as “Arrow” fic. Let’s be real… a non-superhero AU of the original next gen characters is just original fiction. I can count on my fingers the references to Arrow that the royalty AU will have (a few names. That’s honestly it). I don’t particularly want the story buried in the middle of an ongoing post of mostly oneshots (it’s likely to be at least a full length novel), but I also don’t want to use the Arrow tag on AO3 for something that’s really not Arrow at all.

So.

Here’s my solution.

The royalty AU (and probably several other stories in this trope bingo challenge) will post as it’s own story. It will be included in the FiCoN series. However, it will be tagged as the fandom of FiCoN (which I created in AO3) and NOT tagged as Arrow. Previous FiCoN stories will have the FiCoN fandom tag added to them.

I will, as always, post updates here and Twitter (as long as it’s functional). I highly HIGHLY recommend subscribing to the FiCoN series on AO3 if you want to make sure you don’t miss anything. I also wholly welcome anyone who has/wants to craft something with these original characters of ours to post and use the FiCoN fandom tag (either in conjunction with Arrow if it applies or as a stand alone if it doesn’t).

Now… I should go tell Bre I’m doing this 😂

[theweekinarrowfic]

The Year in Arrow Fic, 2022

This is my fourth year providing some statistics on Arrow fanfiction on AO3 (see 2019, 2020, and 2021).  

My data are based on monthly scrapes of recent unlocked fics tagged Arrow. The totals differ from a hand count of fics on AO3 because, on the one hand, my scraping tool does not capture locked fics (yet), but on the other hand, I have fics that were posted or updated in 2022 but have since been deleted. 

Note that this year I used a third party scraper through January 30th, after which it was taken offline, and then began scraping using my own Python code as of August 26th.  So, I will have missed some fics that were posted and then removed from February-August.

The 1,074 fics published in 2022 represent a 38% decrease from 2021, continuing a downward trend since the show ended.

I hand code several variables for each fic, including a 9-category relationship variable, a freeform relationship variable where I can go into more detail, and a 4-category fic type field.

By Ship:   Looking at relationship type, Olicity is the most ficced relationship of the four specific relationships I track, at 17% of all fics for the year (down from 19% in 2021). Lauriver makes of 5% of 2022 fics, down from 7% last year.  Olivarry makes up 4% of 2022 fics, down from 5% last year.  Dinahsiren is down from 3% to 0.65%.

I categorized 45% of 2022 fics into the “Other Arrow Ships” category (which includes gen), up from 42% in 2021.  Fics tagged Arrow that aren’t primarily about Arrow held steady at 20%, although my new category “Completely Non-Arrow” increased from 5% to 6%, and “Non-Arrow” (focuses on other shows/characters but either Arrow is referenced in the summary or Arrow characters are listed in the tags) decreased from 15% to 14%.  Finally, fics in a language other than English increased from 4% to 8%.

More statistics under the cut!

The “Other Arrow Ships” category is quite diverse--the 478 fics have 255 different entries in the freeform field.  The most ficced relationship within that category is Avalance, making up about 5% of the category.  As in previous years, the majority of the most ficced relationships involve Sara and/or Oliver.  This is also the place for gen fic, and here Oliver-centric makes the top 10 “relationships” within Other Arrow Ships.

By Format:  For fics tagged Arrow in 2022, 53% were multichapters (566), 41% were one-shots (441), 5% were one-shot collections (52), and 1% were single-universe collections (15).   [That last type are fics like Pieces of Always, where the story doesn’t necessarily flow from one chapter to the next, but all chapters are in the same universe.]  Compared to 2021, there were slightly more multichapters and slightly fewer one shots (51% and 43% in 2021).

Looking at format by ship category, non-Arrow fics were least likely to be one-shots, and Dinahsiren, foreign language fics, and “non-fic” fics were most likely to be one-shots in 2022.

As always, grad school training demands I must offer some caveats.

I hand code category and format myself; in an academic research project, each fic would be coded by multiple coders working independently who would discuss and resolve discrepancies.  I code based on the summary and tags alone, so fics with minimal information may be categorized inaccurately.  Also, these statistics are for unlocked fics on AO3 only.  It’s possible that locked fics and fics published on other platforms would show different patterns.  (I’ve seen instructions online for how to scrape while logged in, so sometime when I have time I’ll work on that.)  It’s also possible that I have missed fics, particularly with the gap in the beginning part of the year while I was figuring out a new scraping method.

As always, I hope you found this interesting and inspiring to go out and create in 2023!

[kitkatt0430]

Hi! I've been making my way through your Neighbours and Butterflies series since you posted a snippet of Chrysalis, and I'm really enjoying it!! I’ve just finished Rampage now. All the references and extra characters you've woven in—Frost, Black Lightning (!!), Oliver (!!!)—mental health being acknowledged (!!!!) (I love the Arrowverse shows, but they're. not the best in that regard :/). I also love how you've written Eobard. And Singh knowing!! 1/3

I really like how you’ve written that whole story with the old captain and Ralph!! I’m not the biggest fan of salt, but I understand it here, and really appreciate how you've handled Joe (/gen! I really hope that doesn’t come across as offensive!) Oh, and Roy Bivolo!! (clarifying Bivolo because we have like three Rays and two Roys) I loved that episode in canon mostly because of the crossover (read: the Olivarry! :D), but I really liked how you’ve characterised him here and developed him. 2/3

I think the backstory you’ve given him is really cool too!! The only tiny thing I didn’t like was his use of the term “Asperger’s”, as that’s a bit outdated. (Again, I really enjoyed the fic and your worldbuilding and hope I’m not being too rude by saying that! /g) Anyway, thank you for writing and sharing this lovely series; I’m off to read the next parts! ♡♡♡ 3/3

I completely forgot to say that Len finding the bugs is so fascinating!! (and for anyone reading this, I'm talking about cameras and microphones, not insects!) ♡

Took me a bit to get around to these, but first off thank you so much for all the lovely compliments Anon. :D It's always great to hear from someone who enjoy's my fics.

I think one of the things I really enjoyed about the Arrowverse was how interconnected it all really feels? It was a bit stilted at first and took some growing into, but they took something that I previously associated the most with Star Trek or CSI - an interconnected tv-show verse - and really set the bar high. So it's always fun for me to try and maintain that interconnection in my fics.

And yes, so many Rays and Roys in these shows. And the number of Noras in the Arrow-verse... or even just on The Flash alone. They've definitely averted the one Steve limit, that's for sure. :D

Joe is definitely one of those characters that I love, but sometimes in a bit of a tough love sort of way since the man does have his flaws that he struggles with. And I do like to give Barry and Iris the space to call him out on those, which can be a bit of a balancing act to write sometimes. But ultimately what I like about him so much is that he genuinely loves his children and wants the best for them - so he expects the best of himself in being there for them. It doesn't always work out and sometimes he goes a little too far in one direction or another (overprotectiveness with Iris, being too much of a friend than a father w/Wally at first) but how much he loves his kids is just really nice to see. And this series in particular was one where I wanted the low points of his S1 behavior called out with while giving him plenty of space to learn from his mistakes and actively do better. Writing his PoV for the Thanksgiving fic was a lot of fun.

With Roy Bivolo, I think if I were to write that fic now then I'd leave out the word 'Aspergers'. I know more about it's history now and... yeah. Not great. It's something that I might address later with editing. Or I might address it in universe? But... i'm more likely to edit and leave a note about it. My reasoning at the time was that when Roy most likely would have been diagnosed, it's a term that would have come up as part of his autism diagnosis - if not the official diagnosis itself. I wanted to show Roy's experiences with autism as being notably different from Jerrie's once I finally have her show up - admittedly not for a while - and to have part of that being their experiences with being diagnosed itself. And while that still stands... I can still have them demonstrate their varied experiences as being diagnosed-autistics (Hartley is definitely undiagnosed but he masks too well for his own good and I haven't actually mentioned that in text yet and dunno when I will) without having to continue using the term aspergers. So thank you for reminding me that I do need to figure that out when I return to this series.

Len finding the bugs was a lot of fun for me to write. I knew I wanted to give Len more to do in the series, but also that a bit of a teaser/cliffhanger would be fun to do too. (I am a bit of a mad scientist cackling maniacally when I write cliffhangers. ^_^ ) And that epilogue scene was an excellent place to indulge both impulses. There's also now a direct line from Len finding those bugs to Len deciding he needs to do more to protect Barry and that'll be something Barry both appreciates and is annoyed by in turns as the series progresses.

[swiftsuburbanlegends]

second chances aren’t given usually

Her heart was stuck in a staccato rhythm, like each beat had to wrap itself around the chords he played. It was a trance, and she let herself fall into it each time

“Too corny?” Owen asked as he put his guitar down. “You can tell me if it is.”

“Huh,” Cami shook her head, letting the daydream that had played out to his words fall away. “No, are you kidding? You’re amazing, the song is amazing.”

She got up and started to move. Sometimes it was the only way to truly get out of the spell she let herself fall under. 

“Thanks, Cam,” he was fidgety. She could see it in the way his leg bounced. And she’d known Owen long enough to know, that he was distracted too.

“Did you talk to her?” She hadn’t brought it up all week, the giant elephant that sat in between every rehearsal and sound check. The information that formed a lump in the back of Cami’s throat every tie she looked at him.

He pulled something from his pocket, a folded piece of paper. It’s not the first time she’d seen it. He’d been carrying it for the last three years. 

“If you want answers for that letter, you have to go see her.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he looked up at her, his eyes full of pain. “Maybe I just... let it go. His voice dropped. “Maybe I can move on?”

She could almost imagine what came next. She could see his hand reach out to hers as he stood, and and feel his fingers as he brushed her hair back. She could hear the hesitation in his voice, just before he added her into that.

But she turned towards the piano, to keep him from seeing how much this effected her, but also to keep every one of those things from happening.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to move on, not until you talk to her,” she had enough strength to look at him again. “I think if you don’t then there is always gonna be a ‘what if’ over your head.” she smiled at him. “And I know you have too good of a heart to do that to a hypothetical someone else.”

He let out a slow breath as he stood, packing up his guitar case. “You really think I should?”

“Not many people get a second chance. Either to work things out or to say goodbye. But you two do, and you shouldn’t waste it.”

“You really believe in second chances?”

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” He smile. “Don’t tell Nik, but you give better advice.”

That made her laugh. “It’s because I’m the better friend.”

“You’re the best friend, Cami. Thank you.”

As he left Cami felt herself slide down to the piano bench. 

She did believe in second chances, she even felt like this was one. Just not theirs. Owen didn’t love her the way she loved him, and one day she’d wake up and that wouldn’t hurt as much.

But for now, she let it sting, because having him in her life as a friend was better than not having him at all.

[arrowverse-next-gen]

Birthday Traditions

I wanna wish the happiest of birthdays to @channelrat!!! Nikki this verse wouldn't be here without you. And just know our friendship is one of my most favorite things! I hope you like this little fic.

It's barely past four when she hears the faint knock on her bedroom door. She's awake of course. It's tradition. One started out of a frantic desire to give Sav some semblance of normal after her mother's death. And she loves it almost as much as she loves the person who came up with it.

Danny pushes the door open, his hand outstretched holding a plate carrying a single cosmic brownie with one tea light candle.

“Did I wake you?”

He asks, even though they both know she's awake. She's always awake at this time. Her mom used to call her the earliest if birds as she pat down her hair and gave her a wink.

Sav sits up, tucking her bed ridden hair behind her ears. “Would I seriously miss my birthday brownie?”

He chuckles, coming to sit on the edge of her bed. There's a wistfulness in his eyes this morning, something she can recognize almost immediately.

“I miss her,” she says and inhales deep when he sets the brownie down on her bedside table.

“Your Mom is in awe of you today, yesterday, and all the days to come,” he leans in and places a kiss to her forehead. “She told me so.”

“In a dream?” She let's the smile come.

He tells her this all the time, ever since the first time he found her crying while trying to make a double decker pb&j. He lifted her to the counter and told her in his dreams her mom comes and they talk all about how great she is.

Even then she knew it was a story, one meant to soothe a grieving child, but she clung to it like a life raft some days. And in that moment she thinks Danny does too.

“She's proud of you too,” she says, moving to pick up her brownie.

He smiles letting his laughter sit in a low hum. “Alright birthday girl, make your wish then we'll head out to see the sun rise.”

She takes a moment to think, then focuses on the flame. She used to wish for ponies and candy, then when her preteen years set in it was peace and selfishly her mom back. But now, Looking at her uncle she has only one wish she truly wants.

I wish Danny to find some kind of happiness outside of raising me.

She knows that wishes on candles are silly, but she also knows of speedsters and vigilantes and people who wield powers like gods. So maybe this wish will find its way to truth.

She blows out the candle and even though it doesn't make sense, she already feels like the wish will come true.

“You make it a good one?”

She nods, reaching over to give him a hug. Regardless of if her wish for Danny came true or not, Sav vows to always be there for her uncle, like he has been for her.

“Thank you,” she says, hoping he knows how much she is truly thankful for.

He grins, tugging her from bed. “Come on kid, the sun won't wait for us.”

[i-just-love-spop]

Arrow

-Glimbow baby

-Oldest sibling

-Her mother‘s genes won out on this one, big time

- Catradora regularly babysit her, and especially Catra loves telling her bedtime stories and putting her to sleep

- Catra refers to her as either Baby Sparkles or Glitter (the former especially shortly after she’s born, the latter when she grows older)

- Meanwhile, Adora is setting the kitchen on fire cooking

- She has her father‘s kind heart, but also her mother‘s temper.

- She’s the brain cell of her squad. And that’s entirely Catra‘s fault.

- She knows how to handle knifes. Which is also Catras fault. The mental image of someone called Arrow throwing knifes is so funny to me, I’m sorry XD

- Bow freaked out about it when she told him. Meanwhile Glimmer was all like “show me, show me, show me!”

- A conversation ensued where Bow lectured his wife about how she should not be this excited about their firstborn throwing knifes and he ended up with half of a breakdown because oh hell that‘s why his dads were so worried about him and how did he end up being so much like them

- She’s also the reason Catradora eventually feel comfortable and ready enough to adopt a child.

- She has a very sibling-like relationship with said Catradora child.

- She’s really annoyed by the expression “straight as an arrow” because she’s not freaking straight (for the record, she’s gay)

- She literally glows (get it? Because one of their shipnames is glow? Alright I‘ll shut up), mostly when she’s happy, but also just in general when she gets emotional.

- Her powers are generally related to light. Depending on how charged she is, she can theoretically blind everyone in the room. She can also make arrows out of light.

- Her future girlfriend teasingly refers to her as “Glowstick“ because of this.

- They are very into teasing each other and often ending up inches from each other’s faces while intensely glaring at the other.

- Glimbow is silently groaning in the background because “it’s Catradora all over again”.

[hussyknee]

The Adventures of Mia Queen - WiP

"Moira Dinah Queen, did you just Parent Trap us?" Lian Harper crosses her arms and nails Mia to the wall pitilessly with her glare. Dawn just looks incredulous.

"Pfft, are you serious?" Mia returns Dawn's expression with interest. "Are you actually asking me whether I purposely pulled a stunt equivalent to jumping off a waterfall in a barrel just to get you two chuckleheads to pull your heads out of your asses and stop sabotaging the mission with your angry sexual tension - well yes, I did. I totally did that." Mia dimples at them over her drink, sucking two bendy straws in each corner of her mouth, a picture of cherubic innocence with her wide blue eyes and tumble of golden hair.

Dawn groans into her hands and Lian simply pivots on her heel and stalks off.

"Mia, you nearly freakin' *died*," says Dawn angrily.

"Nah, I calculated my drop at exactly 6.7m/s at the bottom at a gravity acceleration of 9.8m/s squared. Plenty of time for one of you two have caught me from a starting point of 20 meters," Mia says casually around her straw. She meets Dawn's blank stare and shrugs. "What? Like it's hard?"

***

"Look, William's the boring golden child and I am the charmingly directionless fuck up. That's how it has always worked in this family," says Mia as though explaining the world to a small child.

Oliver looks as though he has no idea which end of that statement he should start unravelling. "You're not a fuck up," he says in manner that conveys this is the precursor to A Lecture. Then pauses, "and don't say fuck."

Mia looks at him unimpressed. "Dad, I'm twenty."

She's not sure why he looks for a moment as though this is new information to him but she takes advantage of catching him on the backfoot. "I don't really mind being the family fuck up. It's a necessary position to fill so the other poor shmucks can feel glad they aren't me and I can feel glad that no one is burdening me with more expectations than I can handle. This is a good thing I have going on here, Dad."

"There's nothing good about being a fuck up, Mia," says her father sternly.

"I thought you said I wasn't one."

"You aren't!" Oliver exclaims with satisfying frustration.

"Oh good then, so we don't need to have this conversation," Mia chirps and jumps down from the bar.

"Hold it!" Oliver jumps down after her and lays a hand on her arm. So close yet so far. Mia deflates. "Look, honey. When I was your age, I was a fuck up too."

Mia looks at him, injured. "What do you mean "too"? And don't say fuck in front of your children, jeez Dad."

[tsarisfanfiction]

Braids: Chapter 2

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Michael Yew, Apollo Cabin I know it's a fluff fic but we do have some grumpy Michael in this one, which brings in the Michael Yew Swears A Lot tag from AO3! I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! Character ages this chapter: Michael - 11 Laura - 17 <<Chapter 1

2) Laura

Michael was bored.  Most of the cabin were in the woods for Capture the Flag, which was a game Michael was determined to take part in one day, but so far had been banned for being “too small”, which was bullshit, in his opinion.  He could still fight!

Emily had been firm, though.  “It’s for your own safety,” she’d told him.  “I’m sure you’ll be able to join in next summer.”

She’d said the same fucking thing last year.  If she said it again next year, Michael was going to shoot her.  Sometimes Emily was fine, but then sometimes she could be a real bitch.  He’d tried to sneak in anyway, but his bow had disappeared and Emily had caught him and directed him away.

Chiron had offered to let him watch with him, but if Michael couldn’t join then he wasn’t going to fucking watch everyone else having a good time without him, so he had stormed into the cabin to sulk.

Sulking didn’t stop boredom, though.  Michael had clambered up to his bunk, because that was his space and no-one ever came up there, but there was nothing to do.  His fingers itched to at least fletch an arrow if he couldn’t shoot, but that was yet another fucking thing he wasn’t allowed to do without godsdamned supervision.

They ended up in his hair instead, tugging it out of its ponytail.  It was finally long enough to tie up without looking stupid and even when he was mad at his cabin mates, the feel of his hair on the back of his neck and brushing his shoulders made him relax, a little.  This felt right.

He’d braided Ceri’s hair a few times, now, but they still looked awful and Michael didn’t like that.  Ceri had made it very clear that she didn’t mind – she never took the braids out until bedtime, no matter how much it unravelled – but Michael did because braids weren’t supposed to be difficult but he hadn’t really got the hang of them yet.

His fingers ran through his hair again, and he realised that with everyone else not there, he could practice without anyone judging him.

He knew his attempts at Ceri’s hair were judged, even though no-one ever said anything bad about them.

Immediately, Michael realised one problem: braiding his own hair was completely different to braiding someone else’s.  He had to hold his wrists in weird positions to reach the back of his head, and he couldn’t keep the three sections apart.  Whichever strands he had hanging loose kept getting tangled up with other sections, and he’d start picking up the wrong hair and turning his hair into a total knot rather than a braid.

“Fucking piece of shit,” he snarled at it as his fingers got caught up and his first attempt to retrieve them ended with his fingers completely snarled up in hair.  “Fuck.”

He was so busy swearing at the wannabe braid that he missed the cabin door opening.

“Michael?  Are you in here?”

“Fuck off!” he retorted instantly, not even registering who it was.  “Go play your stupid game.”

His half-sister – he wasn’t sure which one without looking, but it was one of the summer campers, because he knew the year-rounders’ voices immediately now – didn’t do as she was told.  Without anyone else in the cabin, her footsteps were loud against the floor and Michael tensed as the sound came to a stop by his bunk.

“What if I’d rather keep you company?” she asked, and he reluctantly looked over the edge of his bunk to see who was bothering him.  Dark brown hair and pointy cheek bones belonged to Laura, one of the older girls in the cabin.

“I don’t want company,” he snapped back, which was only a lie because he wanted to be with the rest of the cabin in the forest.  He didn’t want a babysitter.

The top of her head ducked down, and Michael lost track of her.  “Okay,” she said from below him – fuck, was she on the empty bunk underneath his?  “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”  There was the sound of a page turning and Michael realised she had picked up a book from who-fucking-know-where.

Whatever.

Michael tugged at his hands again, extracting his fingers from the snare he’d made of his own hair, and he swore again because now his hair was a fucking mess and his brush was on top of his dresser, which meant he had to leave his bunk to get at it.

Fucking damn it.

Grumpily, he threw himself down the ladder far enough to lean across to grab the brush, sticking the handle in his mouth as he clambered back up again.

“You might find it easier to do a smaller braid,” Laura said suddenly and he jumped, almost losing his grip on the latter.  “Ceri has a lot of hair and it’s quite a handful, but you don’t have to do it all at once.”

Michael glared through the rungs of his ladder at where she was laying on the bottom bunk, not even looking away from her book.

“So fucking what?” he demanded, and then she moved, putting a bookmark between the pages and sitting up.

“Let me show you what I mean?” she asked, but her hand was headed for his hair and fuck no, Michael hadn’t let anyone touch his fucking hair in a year and that wasn’t changing now.  He scurried out of reach.

“Fuck off.”

She backed off straight away, her hand changing target and going for her own hair instead.  “Okay,” she said, “how about I show you using my hair?”

As she spoke, she took a small part of her hair near her face and started twisting it into a skinny braid.  Michael couldn’t follow what her fingers were doing, or why they she wasn’t dropping one of the sections constantly.  She finished the whole braid without saying anything else, and it was fucking neat.

“How the fuck did you do that?” he demanded.  She patted the bunk next to her.

“I’ll show you,” she said.  “We’ll use my hair, don’t worry.”

Wary, but curious, Michael slunk back down his ladder and swung himself onto the bunk.  She unravelled the braid she’d just done, then held out the same section of hair to him.  He took it silently.

“Split it into three, the same way you do with Ceri’s hair,” Laura told him.  Michael did, finding how thin each section was weird.  Laura’s hair was a lot sleeker than Ceri’s, too.  He held them the same way, with one section in each hand and the middle one hanging loose.

He flinched when Laura’s hands came up and hovered near his, not quite touching but fucking close.  “Let me show you how to hold it?” she asked.  “You might struggle with how much hair Ceri has, but for braids like these, there’s a way to do it that means you don’t keep dropping any hair.”

Michael hesitated, but he wanted to know.  “Fine,” he said shortly, and watched Laura’s hands closely as they came in contact with his.  Gently, she shifted his fingers until one of the sections of hair was held between his pointer and middle finger, while another was held between his thumb and finger on the same hand.

It felt fucking weird.

She made his other hand also hold the third section between his fingers.  “This way, you have your thumb and finger free to grab the hair,” she explained, placing her hands over his and demonstrating.  He copied her, and found himself taking one of the strands from his other hand.  “Now you can cross them over like this.”

It was an awkward twist, but Michael was stubborn and determined.  Laura guided him into shifting his grip on the one section left in that hand, and then they did the same thing in the reverse.

Slowly, they made their way down the braid.  It still didn’t look that neat, bulky and messy at the top where he’d started, but by the time they reached the end of her hair, it was starting to look a bit like an actual braid.

Laura let him look at it for a moment, before running her fingers through it and getting rid of it.  Michael’s chest ached a little, but then he blinked when she handed the section back to him again.

“Practice makes perfect,” she told him.  “Do you want me to guide you through this one again, or try by yourself?”

Michael split it back into sections and tried to remember how to hold them all at once.  It took him a couple of attempts, but he managed to get them awkwardly positioned between his fingers again.  He didn’t answer Laura, instead launching straight into his second attempt at the braid.

Within a couple of twists, it was a mass of knots.  “Fuck.”

Laura swooped in and rescued her hair, undoing Michael’s awful braiding attempt.  She gave it back to him again, though.  “I’ll guide you again,” she suggested, and he grumbled but agreed.

She stopped guiding him halfway through their third attempt, and Michael focused hard on making sure he got it right.

It went a bit messier, but it was some of the best braiding he’d ever done.

Laura didn’t destroy that one.  Instead, she grabbed another section of hair, a bit further back on her head, and offered that to him again.  “Try this one by yourself,” she suggested.

Michael fumbled the first few twists, but found the rhythm after that.  He was slow, but the braid was looking like an actual fucking braid, and he was proud of that.

By the time Capture the Flag was over and their siblings came back, Laura’s hair was full of small, occasionally wonky, braids, and Michael had almost forgotten that he was upset at being forced to sit the game out.

Chapter 3>

[nocapesdahling]

Hold My Hand

Gen Fic: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

My Masterlist

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw grows up without his dad, but his mom and Uncle Pete are there every step of the way. Snapshots of Bradley’s life told from his POV. Top Gun: Maverick spoilers.

“So cry tonight. But don’t you let go of my hand. You can cry every last tear. I won’t leave til I understand. Promise me, just hold my hand.”

Rating: T

Tags: Canon character deaths; References to illness; Angst; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Top Gun (1986) references; Time skips to conversations and scenes set post movie; Pete “Maverick” Mitchell acting like one of Bradley Bradshaw’s parental figures; Mav has never been a dad before but he's trying his best

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I really enjoyed the movie and wanted to write something that showed more of Bradley's life pre-movie and delved into his relationship with Maverick. I also posted this on AO3 a few weekends ago if you’d prefer to read it there, my username is SnowLeopard167. Thank you to the lovely @inklore and @clints-lucky-arrow for encouraging me to post this here <3 Hope you enjoy!

His dad is dead, and it hasn’t sunk in yet. There’s no laughter anymore, no music. All they’re left with are the effects he left behind, just like he left them behind. When his mom gives him the dog tags, they’re both crying and they can’t seem to stop.

She pulls him close to her chest and they fall together, pulled into and lost under an ocean of grief. It may have been hours, but it feels like minutes. Time has no meaning anymore anyway. Not now.  

When her tears have begun to dry, she pulls back from him and runs her hand through his hair. “They’re yours. He would have wanted you to have them, Bradley.”

She lifts them over his head, even though they’re much too big for him and he falls asleep with the tag clutched in his hand — the letters branding themselves on his palm. From then on he wears them every day without fail, keeping his dad close to his heart.

As he grows older, Uncle Pete comes by often. Bradley calls him Uncle Pete while other times he’s his Mav, depending on the day, and sometimes Bradley can barely look at him. He’s Dad’s best friend and the best uncle — all of his friends are super jealous that his uncle is a cool pilot — but Uncle Pete’s alive while his dad is not. Maverick was flying the plane and as much as his mom tells him it’s not Uncle Pete’s fault, he can’t help but blame him sometimes at night when he can’t sleep.

During the day, he forgets about that because Uncle Pete is his favorite person. He can’t control his laughter when Mav plays catch with him or his shouts while Mav teaches him how to ride a bike. He watches avidly as Uncle Pete teaches him how to work on his motorcycle and how to tie a tie with the added comment of “You need to know this just in case, but don’t wear ties Bradley. Not if you can help it.”

These are things he should have done with his dad, but his dad’s not here.

It’s only years later when they’ve all come back alive and he’s back to speaking with Maverick — he’s back to loving Mav, though he never really stopped; instead, he attempted to smother the embers of love with a blanket of bitterness and hate — that he realizes that no one could ever put more blame on Maverick for his dad’s death than Maverick puts on himself. And it’s time to let go. His dad loved Mav, loved flying with him, and Rooster does too.

It’s his first piano recital and he couldn’t be more nervous. He’s confident in his skills, having practiced for his Mom and Uncle Pete and received claps and enthusiastic calls for an encore, but that was at home on his dad’s piano. This is here. In front of everyone.

He peeks around the curtain and his mom is right there in the front row, poised with a video camera, but the seat next to her is empty. He tries not to feel disappointed. It had been a long shot for Uncle Pete to get here anyway with his posting, and he’d just been to his baseball game a couple of months ago yelling and telling him as he ran the bases that, “Now was the time to feel the need for speed. Run home, Bradley!” He’d scored the most runs out of anyone on the team that game.

There’d be other piano recitals. He nods to himself and listens as his predecessor begins to finish their song. It’s time.

He steps onto the stage as his teacher announces him.

“Bradley Bradshaw in his first recital, playing for us the —“

His mom’s waving at him brightly and making motions for him to smile while gesturing at the camera. It’s who’s next to her that almost makes him stop before he gets to the bench. Mav made it. Uncle Pete’s here in his customary leather jacket that Bradley had spent his childhood trying on with a pair of his dad’s sunglasses, hoping he could look as cool as his Mav. He’s made it. And somehow, Uncle Pete’s smile and his thumbs up make all the nerves go away.

He doesn’t need to think while playing his piece. He’s done it hundreds of times by now. It’s more natural that way. His family’s here and that’s all that matters.

Later, much later, he’ll tell Mav about that first recital and how much it mattered that he was there. Maverick would laugh and say, “Do you know how many speed limits I broke to get there, kid? I wasn’t missing it for the world.”

He’s in high school, playing baseball and getting the grades he needs to go to the Naval Academy, when his mom gets sick. First, it’s just headaches but then it’s more. Much more. Then, she’s in the hospital and they say she only has months. That’s it.  

Most of his life it’s just been him and his mom with Uncle Pete showing up as much as he can, but he’s not there all the time and now Bradley won’t even have his mom. He’s in high school and his mom is dying. She’s not supposed to die until he’s older, but when does life ever go the way it’s supposed to? If it did, then his dad would still be here and his mom would still be healthy and smiling. Alive instead of withering away before his eyes.

He goes to visit her every day before school or after practice, whenever he can. He doesn’t want to miss the few times she’s awake.

He’s working on his homework, his hand grasping hers and trying not to hold on too tightly even as he wants to grip it with all his might and make her stay with him. Her hand feels fragile in his, breakable — like with one wrong move it would shatter like his world is shattering around him.

That’s when he hears steps across the floor. Steps he knows like his own. A hand rests on his shoulder and it’s only then that Bradley realizes he’s crying and he doesn’t know when he started or how to stop. The calloused hand reaches down to grasp his and Bradley grips it with all of his strength. He’s not alone anymore. Not in this.

Uncle Pete’s voice is soothing, “I’m here, Bradley. I’m here, kid.” And he loses it, crying in a way that he hopes doesn’t wake up his mom. He’s only 16 years old and he feels too old and too young all at once. All he wants is a hug from his mom, but a hug from Mav will have to do. When he drops his books on the table and throws himself against Uncle Pete’s chest, his warmth and his scent that’s never changed since he was a kid bring Bradley more comfort than he’s felt in months. Uncle Pete is here, his Mav is here, and he can breathe again.

Later, while they’re working on Mav’s plane with Mav teaching him as they go just like when they used to work on his motorcycle, he’ll ask Mav for the first time what his mom said to him before she died. He never asked before, the grief too heavy and too near with her last words to him echoing too loudly in his ears for him to worry about what she’d said to anyone else. Mav pauses as he reaches for the next tool and his voice when he speaks is rough, “Your mother was an extraordinary woman, and she made me make her a promise.”

“A promise?”

Mav nods and hands him the tool, “Move it to the right a bit. That’s it. You’re a natural at this, kid. You always have been.”

Bradley already knows that he won’t get more out of Mav, not when he doesn’t want to talk. He never finds out what that promise was, but he assumes knowing his Mav that he kept it and that’s good enough for him.

His mom deserves that much.

He hasn’t been this nervous and excited in a long time, maybe since that first piano recital actually. He’d applied to a few other colleges and academies just in case, but his heart is set on the Naval Academy. His heart is set on flying just like Mav and his dad.

Today’s the day the letter will be arriving. He’ll know today. Whether or not his dream will become a reality.

The mailbox when he gets home is full of the usual, bills that he’ll set aside for Uncle Pete to look at when he gets home tonight and coupons, but there’s three letters mixed in. One from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy and two from state colleges.

There’s nothing from the Naval Academy.

He throws the mail on the table and frantically checks through it all. Still nothing. It couldn’t have been delivered to the wrong house because all the other mail is here, so where is it? He doesn’t understand and will not understand until he calls Uncle Pete a few minutes later.

“Today was supposed to be the day, Mav. The letter from the Academy was supposed to come today. I don’t know where it is.”

The other end of the line is silent.

“Uncle Pete, do you know where it is?” Bradley knows that his voice sounds desperate, pleading for his Mav to make it alright again.

“I do. I —“

“You do? Is it delayed in the mail? Does Uncle Ice know where it is?”

There’s a moment of quiet and Bradley thinks that maybe the call dropped when Mav speaks again, “I pulled it. I pulled your application.”

There’s a moment of disbelief. A feeling of disconnect. As if this is happening to someone else. Before the betrayal burns through his chest.

“You pulled it?” The anger comes swiftly mingling with the betrayal. “You made it so I couldn’t even be considered? How could you do this to me?”

“Yes.” There’s a pause before Maverick speaks again, “You’re not ready, Bradley. Not yet.”

The feelings of safety and love that Maverick had always brought him are evaporating as though they had never been, pushed down deep and buried. Who is this man? Had he ever known him at all?  “That’s not for you to decide, sir. How could you? I trusted you.”

“Bradley, wait I — “

“I never want to speak to you again.”

He can’t listen to what else this stranger wants to say — he doesn’t want to hear more excuses from the person he trusts, no that he trusted, the most in the world — and hangs up. That man is no uncle of his. He can’t forgive him for this.

A few days afterwards in between ignoring Maverick’s attempts to talk to him, he’s calmed enough to consider his options and decide on his future. He sends in his acceptance for the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy. Screw Maverick and his high-handedness. He’ll show him. It doesn’t matter what setbacks he’ll face, he’s going to be an amazing pilot and nothing and no one will stand in his way.

Bradley grows a moustache at the academy that looks just like his dad’s and starts wearing Hawaiian shirts when not in uniform. His dad’s sunglasses are an ever present accessory. It makes him proud to look in the mirror and see how much he looks like his dad, even as there’s a twinge of pain every so often that his dad isn’t there to see it. That his Mav isn’t there to see it.  

He works hard at the academy and graduates top of his class. He has something to prove because Captain Pete Mitchell decided for some reason known only to him to set Bradley’s career back four years, and it still burns.

No matter what, he’s determined to fly.

When he graduates, there’s no one there for him and he misses his mom more than ever. What he wouldn’t give to feel her arms around him and to see that video camera that he’d always shied away from again. Before he gets lost in what if’s on what should be and is one of the happiest days of his life, his buddies drag him over to each of their families to introduce him to their parents and grandparents. At one point, he thinks he sees a familiar figure in the distance but shrugs it off as he turns to take a picture with his friend.

If he’d looked closer, he would have seen Maverick walking back to his motorcycle with a wistful smile. Bradley didn’t graduate alone today after all.

After years of work, it’s all paying off. He’s been invited to Top Gun. To Top Gun! See Maverick, not ready my ass. He’s one of the best and now he has the invitation to prove it. His goal is to graduate top of his class again while living through training.

The only one standing in his way is Hangman. Hangman’s good and he knows it. He’s also an arrogant pain in the ass. They’re neck in neck through every exercise, even as Hangman has to be one of the worst wingmen in existence. He lives up to his name by leaving people out to dry more often than not.

“Hangman, where are you? Do you have my back?”

“I’m in position, and do I need to have your back? I thought you wanted to be the best, Rooster.”

Rooster’s “dead” before he can blink and Hangman ends up edging him out by a couple of points to graduate at the top because of that exercise. Rooster comes in second, just like Pete Mitchell.

It doesn’t sting as much as he thought it would. He’s still graduated Top Gun among the best of the best, and most of all he’s graduated Top Gun alive. To fly another day, and that’s more than his dad got. Bradley hopes that he’s watching, proud and singing along every time he plays Great Balls of Fire. He hopes that his mom is sitting on his dad’s lap, cheering him on.

Later, after the mission from hell where it turns out that while Hangman may be an asshole he’s a life saving one and someone he might be able to call a friend in the future, they all meet up in The Hard Deck for a celebratory drink. Hangman joins in on the Great Balls of Fire sing- along for the first time, just as into it as Phoenix and Fanboy. He’s got a surprisingly good singing voice too.

“What do you think, Hangman? Better than Slow Ride?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. You might have to sing it again to convince me, Rooster.”

When everything’s all said and done, they’re working on the plane again in the garage in silent camaraderie when Mav clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’m not one for big speeches, Rooster.”

“You never have been. Where are you going with this, Mav?”

“But there’s something I keep meaning to tell you, so let me get it out. Without any sarcastic comments.”

“Me? Making comments? Using sarcasm? Never. Who do you take me for?”

“Very funny, Bradley. All kidding aside…” Here Mav looks at the wall of pictures, his eyes lingering on Goose before speaking again, “Goose would have loved flying with you. I think even more than he loved flying with me, and that’s saying something. Then again, nothing can beat how much I loved flying with him and now you, kid. You’re a great pilot and a better man. Your mom and dad — well, they’d be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Uncle Pete.”

“Uncle Pete? That’s the first time you’ve called me that in years.”

“That’s the first time it’s felt right in years. Not to ruin the moment, but I have to ask. Who’s the better pilot, Uncle Pete? Me or you?”

Mav shakes his head and smiles, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Rooster. You still have a long way to go.”

“And you’ll be there every step of the way?”

“And I’ll be there every step of the way, I promise.”

“Well, I know you don’t break your promises.”

“I never have and I never will. Sometimes to my detriment. But especially not to you. Now, I think it’s time we go for a flight in this baby.”

“I thought you’d never ask. Drinks are on you after. We’ll invite the whole team.”

“Aren’t they always on me?”

“Yeah, they are.” Rooster’s tone changes from joking to serious, “Thanks, Uncle Pete. For everything.”

His Mav claps him on the shoulder, hand a comforting and warm weight as always. “No, thank you kid.”

“Now, let’s go. I feel the need —“

“The need for speed. Last one there gets the passenger seat.”

“You’re on, Rooster. Be prepared to lose.”

Reblogs, comments, and likes are always much appreciated!

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think. I do have some thoughts for a potential Reader/Original Character in the Top Gun universe as well that I'm excited to work on.  

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