#but it never occurred to me that some people can just... ask their dads questions? for help?

[violexides]

explaining the relationship i have with my father is so complicated and i keep finding myself facing that question when i'm in college bc like. a professor of mine in office hours literally asked me abt my family and i was like. well i can explain. Parts Of This. but it's mega fucking complicated

[artsyjedi]

A Moment | Mick Schumacher x Reader

summary: what’s going on in Mick’s mind and you meet a little of his world.

author’s note: i found this written in a old notebook and decided to rewrite. there’s no beginning or end, it’s truly just a piece of moment between you too. english isn’t my first language, so please be nice!

warnings: none

Mick Schumacher was something.

He had that smile that could sweep you off your feet. His voice was soft and he loved to show how much he loves you whenever he can. He was a private person, always leaving more questions than answers to the curious ones.

He was your boyfriend. And he could easily be the love of your life.

“Are you coming today?” He asked you, his voice muffled by the shirt he was putting on.

“You want me to?” You raised your voice for him to hear you from the bathroom.

Mick doesn't often invite you to the races. In fact, he doesn’t often invite you to anything that requires any sort of public or social gathering that goes beyond your families. At first, right at the beginning of the relationship, your friends were skeptical of it, trying to open your eyes on how weird it was that your boyfriend never seemed interested in taking you anywhere people could see that he had a girlfriend.

You never gave much thought to it. You trust Mick. You had already noticed how uncomfortable he can get around too many people, or how he looked annoyed with some questions from the journalists or even fans.

“Of course” he made his way towards you, hugging your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. Ocean blue eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

You tried, but the excitement smile appeared on your face when you saw he truly meant it, “Give me five minutes”

He smiled at your reaction, spinning you to face him. His hands ran through your hair.

“Don’t worry, we have more than five minutes” he gave you forehead a quick kiss.

“Wait, what am I gonna wear?”

“Anything you want, ich liebe dich so wie du bist. You can wear pajamas and would still look beautiful”

Mick smiled and left you alone to get ready. He lied down on bed, following each one of your movements. He found amusing how you tried to do everything at once, mumbling to yourself a full conversation.

He loved these little things about you.

Sometimes, Mick could be found wondering if he was enough for you. When he mentioned this insecurity to his friends, they said he was going crazy, you’re Mick Schumacher, how could you not be enough? they said as if it was clear. As if he, being who he was, meant something.

Then, when alone, trapped inside of his mind (which he knows is always a dangerous thing), he can’t help to think that’s the problem of it all. That if he had a different last name, a different story, things would be easier.

He knows how it’s like to be harassed by the media, treated like a machine or a piece of meat on display for the vultures to eat. Mick grew up like that, having to learn how to talk, walk and act. All the eyes were on him and his family, even before his father’s accident.

Mick wondered if he was selfish by pulling you into his mess. Everyone on his life faced all the bad things a public person, or being related to one, can face: cars chasing them, people camping in front of their house trying to find something to publish about, to create rumors, get information on his private life, on his dad.

Just the thought of something occurring to you was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“Mick?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, sitting beside him and caressing his leg. “You’re ok?”

“Just thinking”

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“Not that important” he pulled you to a tight hug.

“You think I look good?”

“I think you look like the bane of my existence and object of my desires” he dramatized, winning a genuine laugh.

“I should never have watched Bridgerton with you” you shook your head and got up, adjusting your outfit. “Now let’s go, big boy! Your team has a race to win!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he pretended to salute you.

The paddock was… energetic, to say at least. You knew that there were gonna be hundreds of people but you never actually managed to get a hold of how many. Part of you were glad Mick hadn't left your side and always kept touching you somewhere, making his presence known. When he went to give some interviews, he had you at his eyesight.

Questions about you popped up now and there, the more respectful ones didn’t ask anything personal and only said they were happy for us. Mick answered everything like he was taught to: answer without exactly answering. But anyone could see the happiness and passion on his face.

Mick introduced you to everyone and you thought how funny and sweet it was that the older ones acted more protectively, like older brothers. And when you got to the Mereces garage, Lewis stole you faster than Mick could notice. He and George were side by side, showing everything to you while your boyfriend took the opportunity to discuss something with the mechanics.

“And Toto and Susie are like his race week mom and dad, when Corinna isn’t here. Gina becomes a little sister too” George explained. You were loving every second of it. For the first time in months, you were completely part of Mick’s world.

“Mick can be very private, we didn’t actually think he would bring you” Lewis admitted, closing half of his jumpsuit and leaving it hanging on his waist.

“I was surprised too, believe me” You turned around to see Mick, unintentionally mimicking his serious frown face. You smiled. God, you truly loved him.

George and Lewis shared a known and amused glance.

A few weeks prior, they found out Mick was in a serious relationship and annoyed the younger one until he opened his mouth and told them everything. Of course George shared it with Carmen. Ocon also started to pick on him on why he hadn't told them anything. And Mick was honest in his answer: he was afraid. It was understandable, everyone has been in that position, sharing the same fears - and they knew it could be trickier to Mick due to his personal reasons.

“He wants to protect you” George smiled “That’s why he doesn’t show you off”

“That and because he’s afraid you’ll notice he’s not that big of a deal” Lewis said playfully and louder for Mick to hear.

“Yeah, I figured” you shrugged. “Not noticing he’s not a big deal, but the protection thing. He worries too much sometimes”

The other two drivers adjusted their posture when noticing their reserve driver was approaching them.

“So… Do you have any siblings or cousins who are as beautiful and nice as you for this guy?” George pointed towards Lewis, who let out a loud and surprised gasp.

“None that are single, sorry Lewis” you laughed, feeling Mick’s arm around your shoulder. You hugged his waist, pulling him closer to your side.

“I’m not a jealous person, so everything should be fine”

“Oh God, shut up” George rolled his eyes and said his goodbyes. Lewis did the same, going to get properly ready.

You could still hear the two discussing something.

“You have a great family here” you comment, looking up to your boyfriend.

“And now you are part of it, so it got a thousand times better” he kissed you.

“You know that I love you, right?”

“But?”

“But now I see how everyone falls for Lewis, like… Wow” you laughed and so did he, remembering a conversation you two had a few nights ago, about how Lewis was the most beautiful driver on the grid “I mean, I knew he was pretty but in person? He’s literally a god!”

“Do I need to be worried or something?” He was facing you now. You tried not to laugh at his attempt to pretend to be angry.

“I mean… do you look hot as he does with the jumpsuit hanging?”

“Wait for tonight and I'll show you, alright?” he whispered in your ear, hugging you closer.

“I think I’m gonna prefer you without it” you whispered back, biting his ear lobe quickly so no one could see it.

“Please, respect the elders!” Toto’s thick accent made you jump in surprise.

“And the single ones!” The social media added.

Mick Schumacher was more than something: he was everything. Your everything.

[southsideserendipity]

drunk & disorderly (alternate ending) (Kelly Severide x Reader)

Synopsis: Your alcoholic father shows up at the firehouse, persistent on making amends.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol abuse, violence, swearing, Kelly being protective AF <3.

Word Count: 2.7k

*This is an alternate ending for one of my imagines: drunk & disorderly. They can be read separately and in interchangeable order. Link to my master list."

“Shay, we are never drinking that much the night before a shift again. I’m so hungover” you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation in the passenger seat of the ambulance. You were returning to the station after the first call of the day, and the pounding of your temples was exacerbated with every bump in the road. 

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, we can handle a lil hangover” she said jokingly. “Besides, wasn’t that drinking game fun?” She asked in a suggestive tone while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“I’m not sure, I can’t exactly remember last night’s events” you giggled, trying to rack your brain for a hint as to how the evening played out.

“Well, what I remember extremely vividly is you and Severide not being able to stop flirting with each other,” Shay said this without taking her eyes off of the road, but you knew she wasn’t as annoyed as she was making herself out to be. She loved the idea of the 2 people she loved the most being together. 

“I can’t confirm or deny my actions or the events that occurred last night” you led in a serious note, trying to cover up your schoolgirl crush on Severide in a playful manner.

“Oh, just fuck him already! Blame it on the alcohol!” Shay encouraged, using her hands to help communicate the message. “I know you like him, and who’s to say he doesn’t want you?” she questioned.

“I’m not sure Shay, you would know the most given the fact that you live with him, wouldn’t you? Has he said anything to you??” Turning your entire torso towards her, you suddenly become very invested in the conversation. You had made comments to Shay about how hot Severide is, but you’ve never fully expressed your interest in him.

“My lawyer says no further comment” Shay responds, zipping the imaginary zipper on her lips and throwing away the key. 

“Oh come on, Shay!! Help a girl out” you moaned in defeat, crossing your arms in front of your chest despite knowing that what the 2 roommates were discussing was private.

Shay was the person who got you and Kelly close to begin with. Being that you and she were ambulance partners, you went over to their place often, seeing him just as much as you see her. 

“He may or may not have said some things about you, but that’s all I can say!” Shay spat out the sentence, picking up the speed as it went on as if the faster she said it, the less of a chance Kelly was to somehow find out. 

“Oh, this conversation is NOT over" you responded. You weren’t ready to drop the topic anytime soon, but you had arrived back at the firehouse.

Before you could pester her with further interrogations, you saw a figure as she was pulling into the ambulance bay.

“Who is that?” Shay exclaimed, confused that someone was blocking her. 

You squinted your eyes, confident that they were playing tricks on you based on who you were perceiving to be there. Once Shay had driven as close as she could without running them over, you knew your eyes were not deceiving you. 

“My dad” you spat angrily, upset that this was your current reality; that a member of your toxic family had followed you to the one good thing in your life. 

You were both frozen in the ambulance; you, unsure how to avoid this interaction, and Shay, confused as to how she could help you. 

You got out of the ambulance and began making your way inside, pretending that your dad was an invisible man and that his presence had no effect on you. Shay followed suit. 

When you walked past him you heard him scoff, and he threw his hands up in the air, resembling confusion.

“You’re just gonna walk past me. No ‘Hi dad, how are you? Long time no see.’” You couldn’t believe what you just heard, but once you partially processed it, you decided that this was indeed your battle to pick today.

You had moved to Chicago from Toronto after applying to the academy, deciding that between your narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother, and your alcoholic dad, it was time to leave; not to run away, but to survive. 

Your older brother is a firefighter in Toronto, and you easily could’ve gotten a job at his firehouse, but you had always loved Chicago and decided to bite the bullet. 

“You have some nerve.” Slowly turning around to face him, you tried to keep yourself from seeing red. He didn’t deserve to know he got a reaction from you. “Showing up at my place of work unexpectedly and expecting me to give you the time of day.” 

“I just want to talk, Y/N.” You started hysterically laughing once you heard what he had said, the anger presenting itself through laughter. Your father was confused as to why you were reacting this way, and quite frankly, so was Shay. She had never seen you so upset.

“Get out of my firehouse. You don’t deserve to be here.”You pointed towards the street, urging him to get out of your sight. 

“Y/N just hear me out. I know I don’t deserve it but it’s been so long and I just want to be a part of your life again. Things are different now.” The pounding in your head was starting to become excruciatingly unbearable the further this conversation continued.

You could hear the sounds of squad and truck rumbling down the street and you knew that you needed him to leave before the entire house got back. 

“Yeah, things sure as hell are different, I left before I suffocated and you couldn’t give a rat’s ass where I ended up. Until today, a random Saturday morning 2 YEARS after I spoke to you last. I want you to leave, NOW. Don’t make me escalate this situation.” You were sick of people walking all over you- blood-related or not, and you weren’t going to have any of this. Especially not in front of your 51 family.

By the time you finished your spiel, truck and squad were both parked and beginning to filter out, undressing from their turnover gear.

Severide hopped out, pulling his turnover gear down to his waist. He was wearing his lieutenant shirt with suspenders, and his squad 3 baseball cap. He would make subtle glances over, not wanting to make the fact that he was eavesdropping obvious.

“I’m not going anywhere until you decide to give me another chance. Until you let me make things up to you” he pleaded, reeking of desperation. 

At this point, heads were turning to observe the interaction.

“I gave you one too many chances, and I’m done. I’m not sure how you didn’t get the hint that I wanted nothing to do with you when I moved countries, but I’m now verbally letting you know that this relationship is over.” You had thought about simply walking into the firehouse but you didn’t want to risk finding out whether he had the gall to follow you. 

At this point, a few members of 51 had filtered into the lounge, knowing that they probably weren’t meant to be listening to the conversation. Others took their sweet time getting undressed to keep an eye on the situation.

Severide was especially lingering, always having an urge to protect you against harm’s way. He didn’t know much about the situation given that you kept your past secretive, but knowing how abusive fathers can be, he stood near.

“C’mon, Y/N, you’ve always been so damn stubborn. Do you need to act like this when I’m trying to prove to you that I can be better?” Your dad was genuinely curious as to how you could be so cutthroat towards him as if his drinking didn’t ruin the first 2 decades of your life.

“I don’t think you need to prove anything to her. It’s pretty clear you’re not a part of her life and that she wants it to stay that way.” You didn’t expect to hear Kelly’s voice from behind you all of a sudden.

“Kel, it’s okay. I got this.” You felt torn between wanting him to stand up for you and telling him you can fight your own battles. He stepped closer toward you, and Shay took a couple of steps back, knowing you now had extra protection. 

“And who are you?” your father asked, not breaking eye contact with you. His hands were placed on his hips, and by his body language, it was evident that he was not leaving without a fight. 

“Lieutenant Severide of 51, and respectfully, I’m asking you to leave my firehouse” Severide stated in a calm but straightforward manner. He crossed his arms and waited intently. 

Your dad chuckled in what seemed to be astonishment while shifting his eye contact repeatedly from you to Severide. “Sleeping your way to the top; very typical of you Y/N. I thought you would’ve changed your ways by now” your dad scoffed. 

You were beyond pissed off that he was even here right now, but that comment officially made your blood boil. Thinking about what you could say in response, your dad decided to speak up once again.

“Let me ask you, how long have you been fucking my daughter, lieutenant?” He said the last word as if it was dirty. 

Kelly stepped right up to him as if he had no fears, something you wish you could’ve warned him about before doing. You were grateful your dad appeared to be sober because if he hadn’t, a brawl would’ve already broken out between them.

“Y/N has been nothing but a talented and competent paramedic with a great amount of expertise in her field. She‘s proven time and time again that she’s a necessary addition to this team, and deserves to be a part of this family- she did that all by herself, no thanks to you. Now get out of my firehouse before the chief gets back and escalates this even further.”

You were blown away by Severide’s words, unaware of his thoughts regarding your presence at 51. He managed to respond in a professional yet serious manner, and he did it with ease, seeming completely unbothered by confrontation. The two men were still face to face, and Kelly was not ready to back down for nothing and no one. 

“Whatever.” Your dad hadn’t let Kelly escape his gaze for even a millisecond. “You know, maybe I’d have a bone to pick if I came here out of my own free will. This was just part of my 12 steps. Step 9: Make amends” your dad said with a smirk.

Despite not wanting to hear your father out for anything he had to say, the fact that he was here for his benefit and not out of sincerity was your final straw.

It took you a second to even fathom the possibility that he came here for selfish reasons, but once you did, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

You lunged at him and began unleashing. “FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Now you solely saw red. While you were attempting to physically release all of your pain onto him, you felt Severide grab onto your waist and rip you off.

Your arms and legs were still thrashing about, despite him being far from your grasp. “Come here, get off of him. It’s okay.” Severide attempted to console you, but you were furious. 

“Y/N! Enough, he’s not worth it!!!” You heard Shay shouting from behind you. 

Once Severide planted you back on the floor, and you adjusted the stray hairs that had fallen all over your face, you began to catch your breath. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Casey shouted from across the apparatus, walking over with his arms out in question. “Is everything okay?” He glanced between Severide - who looked like he was about to punch a wall, his jaw clenched - and you. 

“Nothing, he’s just leaving,” you said while trying to slow your breathing and resist the urge to fight once again. 

Your father must’ve thought Casey was the chief because he put his arms up in surrender and turned on his heels. 

You abruptly turned around and raced your way into quarters as fast as you could, not comprehending what just happened.

Kelly put his hands on his hips, hanging his head low and then glanced back up toward Shay and Casey while squinting. He knew what it was like when family troubles came into the firehouse, so he felt for you. He didn’t like to see you upset, even though his feelings for you hadn’t been confessed. 

“Who was that?” Casey asked, looking between Shay and Severide as if the answer lay between them.

Meanwhile, you rushed through the doors between the apparatus bay and the inside of the firehouse heading straight for the bathroom. 

Everyone sitting in the lounge immediately shot a glance toward you but didn’t interrupt- you were evidently on a mission, the anger you felt putting a fire under your ass.

You entered the closest stall and closed the lid, taking a seat. The second you did so, the tears automatically began to flow, anger quickly evolving into sadness. 

You heard light taps on the stall, not even realizing someone had walked in. “Y/N?” None other than Severide. 

“I’m good Kel, I promise. I’ll be out soon” you said, trying to keep your voice from quivering. You didn’t want the man you had a crush on to think you’re a damsel in distress who needs saving. 

“Let me in, Y/N. Please.” You think he meant this literally and figuratively. He knew you were lying through your teeth when you said you were okay. “If you don’t want me to come in that’s fine, I’ll stand outside the door, but I’m not leaving you by yourself.” The door jolted and you could tell he was leaning against it, making himself comfortable.

You knew he wasn’t going to leave, given his stubborn character, so you dried up your tears as best as you could with 1-ply toilet paper and unlocked the door. 

He stood up and turned around to face you noticing that your eyes were puffy and your face was red. 

Kneeling between your legs, he looked up at you grabbing a hold of your chin. 

“Are you okay?” He asked intently, scanning your face for any hints of distress.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, Kel. 51 is my only family and I don’t want him to jeopardize that…” Severide urgently nodded in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face. “He won’t” he stated matter o’factly. “I’ll make sure of it.” He was determined to keep you away from your father.

“I’m worried he’s gonna turn back up here, or worse, get you in trouble. It’s not worth you going to the review board because my idiot father reported what happened.” You looked down at him through wet eyelashes, upset that you indirectly put him in this situation.

“He was the unwanted visitor at the firehouse, and everyone can vouch for that. It’s his word against multiple others.” You nodded in hesitant agreement, not fully convinced by his statement. 

“Stay at Shay and I’s for a couple of days, maybe reach out to your brother and see if he knew about him coming here. Or if you wanna stay home, I could get Jay to assign a covert car to your street.” Severide offering you options and comforting you is what you didn’t know you needed.

He looked up at you, glancing between each of your eyes while you attempted to make a decision. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay with you both. If that’s okay” you responded, sniffling the leftover snot in your nose after finally calming down. Just being in his presence lowered your blood pressure.

He nodded his head. “You good to go back out?” He slowly got up and held out his hand for you to take. 

“Thank you, Kel, seriously.” As soon as you stood up, you engulfed him in a hug, the combination of his natural scent and cologne flooding your nostrils. 

He rubbed your back up and down, his chin resting on the top of your head. He kissed your head then said, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.” 

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Hey everyone! I no... long time no chat :( I've had this in my notes for a while and thought I'd post it while I write up some other stuff. I haven't watched the new season's episodes yet, so maybe that'll help the creative flow! I hope everyone has had a wonderful start to the new year :) Again, here is a link to my master list!

[cringelordofchaos]

Stan questioning their gender in The Cissy

For the purpose of this post I will refer to Stan with they/them pronouns, although I usually use he/him for them.

This is the end... Of being cis...

Ahem.

Let us start, from The beginning:...

Cartman told Stan Wendy/l is "telling everyone (s)he likes girls" and identifies as a boy, "which would mean Stan's a girl", which starts confusing them... ("cartman's a girl? Wendy's a boy? Could I... also be something nobody noticed before?" - Is what I assume was going on inside their head.)

Their confusion/curiosity prompts them to seek some form of explanation... Support, reassurance.

They go to their dad.

"Dad, Is it possible for someone to be one way on the outside, but totally different on the inside?"

"I mean - can someone identify as one sex, but be something else, but still have it be nothing about sex?"

I do find it somewhat interesting that Randy is the first person Stan goes to when confused about this. It wouldn't be the first time - similiar scenario occurred in "Tweek x Craig", where they were confused about Tweek and Craig being depicted as gay by the new girls in school, despite neither of them showing any signs of being gay before. They turn to Randy, despite their rocky relationship- but I digress. Randy simply tells them yes, that can be the case. And explains to the, how he(?)'s actually Lorde, to which Stan faints - i have no comment of relevance

Leaving them possibly more confused then before...

Further confusion ensues.

They don't know where they belong ...

Did they ever?

And they finally decide...

But, shortly after, they get in Trouble (or at least undergo interrogation)

When asked why they felt the need to go to the transgender bathroom/didn't feel comfortable using the boys bathroom, they respond -

"I just... Two people close to me are having gender identity issues and I'm confused."

So, their confused feelings of gender identity could possibly be due to their empathy, rather than them actually being trans. Throughout the series it is frequently shown that Stan is a pretty empathetic kid, and easily emotionally influenced - this could easily be another demonstration of their high emotional empathy.

But ya never know.

But the interesting thing is that in this episode, it's acknowledged that being transgender and gender dysphoria is a real thing people struggle with, but that's not Cartman, as cartman's only using being transgender as an excuse to get access to a cleaner bathroom. Stan here could possibly be the demonstration of a kid actually struggling with gender identity, as a parallel to Cartman in a way (?), as while Cartman's new gender identity is accepted despite probably not being trans, Stan is perceived to be cis and transphobic by everyone despite them genuinely being confused about their gender, unlike Cartman.

At the end, when it is officially announced anyone can go to any bathroom they feel comfortable in, including trans and cis kids, and if they're not comfortable sharing a bathroom with anyone possibly trans they'll have to go to a separate "cissies" bathroom, Stan feels comfortable enough going to the boys bathroom, only with this knowledge intact. (I mean, if they were non binary and possibly had to choose between "girls" "boys" and "cissies", they possibly felt most comfortable with "boys")(and also, perhaps knowing they're not the only non-cis/not fully cis person in the bathroom at all times comforted them..?). However, they're bullied into the cissies bathroom, because everyone assumes Stan's transphobic because they're all fucking dumbasses.

Now, them questioning/being confused about their gender is never referenced again in the series, at least I doubt it is. But, from what we've been shown, I just find it all very interesting. Idk.

Long post short, non binary/demi-boy Stan real 💯💯💯

[letstrythisout4]

James Sirius Potter

Big brother, sooooooo big brother. 

Incredibly powerful, his accidental magic was insane growing up. Unintentionally was made into the golden child, he just had a lot of expectations put on him early on because of how intense his magical range was demonstrated to be at such an early age.

Looks more like Fleamont than James or Harry (but like they are all clones of each other). You had to know each of them to really see the differences ( in other words when he showed up at Hogwarts the staff was like “omg he looks just like harry” “ and flitwick was like “no that’s monty”) (the thought just occurred but i like the idea that monty and flitwick were buddies cause they both were into dueling)

Menace but good at hiding it. You cannot catch him doing anything wrong. And I mean from harmless pranks to criminal behavior, you cannot catch him. No reliable evidence. Sure, maybe you saw him, but can you prove it? No.

McGonagall and Flitwick are on it though, some days something will happen and no they can’t prove it was James but look at the way he’s smiling, he’s so smug, “Potter, do you mind helping me reorganize my classroom?” “...Your classroom?” “yes my classroom” *4 hours later, he finally leaves, knowing that was his unofficial detention*

(He always agrees to help because 1) he was raised to be helpful when available. 2) Its best to take the punishment now, then let them simmer in their suspicion)

Fighter. 

James feels like the kind of guy to punch first and ask questions later. I think all of the Next Gen are fighters but I think James is the easiest to rile up. Like you don't really need to do much, one comment about his family, done (really, just look at any of them weird). The kind of guy where you can damn him to hell but if you look at his mom the wrong way, he’ll jump you. FIghitng is the only thing he ever gets caught for and he never denies it.

Guilty pleasure is smoking. He doesn’t do it super frequently but he only smokes magical cigarettes that don’t fuck up your lungs so is it really that bad? (Yes, it's still bad. (I like to think that for every magical solution, there is a new problem yk. No wizard cigarettes don’t fuck up your lungs, but it can’t be incredible healthy to inhale magic like that frequently. Maybe it messes with your magical control so like it may make you put too much or too little power into your everyday magic) If it wasn’t bad he wouldn’t hide it from his parents. 

(Doesn’t feel like the kind of person to do anything other than smoke and drink. He doesn’t think less of anyone who wants to do more but I think his magic is really reactive and what he does already is more than enough.)

Speaking of parents, dude loves his parents a lot. (More of a dad harry headcanon but I like to think that the Potter kids can tell Harry anything, do they always? No, their kids, but when push comes to shove they know they can trust their dad with anything.)

Like to think that he has really good intuition. He just knows. 

He’s also good at Divination. I love the idea that Divination to a certain degree is just a ‘gift”, some people are more adept than others and James is one of those people. It’s well known to the point where when people want advice on the Divination homework, want a tarot reading, tea reading, etc etc, they go to James and he’s always right. 

Is a true student athlete. Like yeah he loves Quidditch but he has a potions exam coming up and the potion exam takes priority (Oliver Wood just shed a tear somewhere). 

That said he is freakishly good at managing his time and keeping up with all of his classes, tutoring and quidditch. I feel like after the Golden Trio era, Hermione would push against time turners being given and in turn James wouldn’t be allowed to take as many classes, SO to get around what he harassed like half of the staff to tutor him in the advanced material of their subject. 

Loves his name but also feels a lot of pressure. Named after two wizards that are greatly admired, at least by his father, he wants to do right by them.

Doesn’t get into arguments frequently but when he does he’s brutal. James loves his family, but when he’s hurt, he’s hurt, and he is going to bring whoever put him in that mood down with him, family or not. 

The kind of person to never date and when they finally do it’s miraculously the love of their life who he will marry and spend eternity with.

Best class is transfiguration.

Letterman jackets.

Baseball fan.

Kind of person to see a first year looking lost and walk them to the otherside of the castle where their class is. 

Definitely prefect and head boy.

Was the one to break the silence and start clapping for Albus when he got sorted to Slytherin.

Loves his siblings, but like he’s definitely closer with the twins and Teddy. He’s close with his siblings too, don’t get me wrong, but he wants to be a good role model for his siblings and he doesn’t really have to when around the older cousins. 

Listens to Mitski and Childish Gambino.

Not incredibly talkative or extroverted, he has a solid three friends plus the army that is his family and he’s good with that.

The kind of kid to walk into the living room where Harry and Ginny are, do a backflip, and walk out.

(as a neurodivergent person myself i like the different neurodivergent James headcanons, in particular the idea that he is bipolar, i think writing hp characters as having these types of disorders can be so important on a representation level but also in a large worldbuilding scale as the question of how does the wizarding world perceive mental disorders etc. lemme know if anyone would care to hear my thoughts on these ideas cause i have many)

[i-am-beckyu]

Just out of Reach, but Never out of sight

Here it is!!! The long awaited follow up to chapter 1!!!! After a mini writers block on it and a small rewrite we have the finished product. So without further a do, enjoy Jornos Ch 2!!!!

Chapter 2

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

cw: general fear, panic and anxiety, fear of death, child abandonment, pretty fluffy chapter. word count: 3723

Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

When Wilbur had received a text from Phil saying he’d found what he thinks is an abandoned child and brought them home on their way back from work, well Wilbur was confused as F***! What did he mean he’d found an abandoned child? Yes he knew Phil had a bit of a soft spot for kids and a bad habit of ‘adopting them’ figuratively speaking (that’s if Tubbo and Ranboo had anything to say about it), but he said he’d brought a kid home. 

Had Phil kidnapped a child? His brother Techno was equally as confused from the text in their family group chat, and had texted Wilbur to ask if Phil was being legit about this or not. Techno wasn’t going to be arriving home until late that night, as he had a group assignment he was working on with his classmates. Being an English major he had so much school work that came with it and it was just another one he had to knock out of the park. But it sucked heavily for him since Techno wasn’t much of a ‘people person’ to begin with and preferred doing things solo. So maybe it wasn’t a bad thing he wasn’t going to be home just yet. Wilbur knew how some people reacted to seeing Techno…

Wilbur walked up to the front door of the house and opened it up with his set of keys. “Hey Dad! I’m home!” He called as he made his way inside after relocking the front door. “Dad? You here? Where’s this kid you were talking about-” He was about to make his way into Phil’s office when he noticed a figure seated in the kitchen. Sat in a daze was a scrawny and young looking teenager in tattered clothing. They were definitely underfed and probably hadn’t had a good bath in years if not ever; if the look of their mud stained rags clothes said anything from their appearance. “Hi, you must be the kid Phil was talking about,” Wilbur said with a smile as he approached them. The kid shrunk in on themselves at being addressed, but gave a slight nod avoiding eye contact.

“It’s nice to meet you.” They didn’t respond. Instead the kid in question ducked his head down and began to fidget with their hands, shoulders tensed. Right. Phil said they were abandoned right? Probably very on edge right now being in a stranger's home. “So you got suckered into coming home with Phil huh? How’d he pick you up?” He joked trying to ease the tension.

The kid still didn’t respond which just added to the awkward atmosphere in the room. 

Wilbur was about to go find Phil when they quietly responded. “I uh, got lost and um. Ran into a ‘ste-reet lamp’.” The kid said, almost as if they were testing out the word. “I just want to go home to the w- uh nevermind...” The younger said before cutting themself off.

Clearly they were hiding where they lived, but Phil had said to be calm with them. From the dried tear stains down their cheek and slight redness in their eyes, he could tell this kid had been through alot as it was, so better not to push them. “Well I bet that hurt. Did you at least damage the street lamp? They’re all pretty useless at night anyways.” Wilbur said, trying to lighten the mood as he took a seat at the counter. “I’d like to see one of them busted up.” “I didn’t bring it down, but I left a good dent in it.” The kid responded, cautiously eyeing him up and down, before continuing on a little more confidently. “I could have brought it down if I had wanted to. Nothing can stop me! I’m a big man!”

Wilbur couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“A big man huh?  The rest of those street lamps better watch out then in case you go crashing into more of them.”

“Hey it’s not my fault it got in the way!” The blonde snapped back in retaliation, their face scrunched up in annoyance. Wilbur just laughed more at the kid's antics, but they seemed to realize their small outburst, and shrunk back in on themselves. Their hands returning to rest in their lap. 

Well that wasn’t a good sign. “So uh what’s your name?” Wilbur asked, realizing he had yet to ask after a moment's awkward silence. The kid studied him for a moment before answering.

“It’s Tommy. It’s um, nice to meet you, Wilbur.”

Huh? He didn’t remember introducing his name? Or did he? Oh Phil probably told him. That would make sense.

“Ah Wilbur! I see you’ve met Tommy.” Think of the devil and they appear, as Phil walked into the kitchen to stand next to him by the counter. 

“Sorry about that Tommy. I had a call from my co-worker about one of the files I’d given them today.”

Tommy remained still, keeping his eyes trained down avoiding both his and Phil’s gazes. They exchanged concerned looks before Phil motioned for Wilbur to follow him out of the room. 

“We’ll be back in a minute Tommy. Just gotta talk to Wil about some family stuff.” Tommy flinched minutely, but kept his head down and gave a slight nod before Phil and Wilbur exited the room.

“Where in Prime did he come from Dad?” Wilbur demanded when they were both out of ear shot. 

“I have no idea Wil. Kid barely uttered a word on the way here and kept stopping to stare at the strangest things.” “What do you mean?” “He stopped and stared at a bicycle, letter box, phone booth, a trampoline, another letter box, a tree and then at his own hands several times on the way here. Honestly Wil, you’d think Tommy’s never seen any of these things before just based on how long he stared at each object.” “Oh Prime, are you serious?” Wilbur uttered in disbelief.

“Maybe they’ve got a concussion? Tommy did say he ran into a street lamp right? Maybe that’s a side effect?” “I don’t think so.” Phil replied, crossing his arms, a frown forming on his lips. “I don’t think he hit the street lamp all that hard. I heard him running and turned too late to stop him before he ran into it. Then when I checked to see if he was okay, he had a full on panic attack!” “Phil, that's awful.” Wilbur gasped.

“The Kid already looks like s*** and acts like one wrong move and he’s done for.”

“I know! I don’t get it either.” Phil responded as he peered around the side of the office door frame to look at Tommy. The blonde was staring up at the clock, almost as still as a statue.

“You should have seen him when he was coming here Wil. I don’t know what happened to him, but it’s as if he’s at war with himself.”

“Well it can’t have been good.” The brunette huffed in annoyance. “What is he? 14, 15? He looks like he’s been dragged through hell in those clothes and hasn’t eaten in what? Days? Prime, has he eaten anything ever?!?” 

Phil walked over to where Wilbur was seated at his desk, and rested his hand on his shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t know Wil, but I’m hoping we’ll find out soon. He just needs some time to settle. When Techno gets back, then we can figure out how to help him.” 

“I know. You’re probably right.” Wilbur said as he reached up and squeezed his father’s hand. “I hope we can.” 

              ฅ/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ฅ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy stared blankly at the clock on the wall. He’d been stuck Human Bean size for roughly what he felt was 2 hours as he’d watched the long stick thingy in the clock complete 2 full rotations, the smaller stick thingy moving two numbers over. It was the only thing he could do without the fear of wrecking something at this new size. 

When he first grew, he thought he was imagining it from how hard his head had been throbbing. But when he had heard Phil’s voice and looked up locking eyes with the Bean, he’d been terrified which had resulted in a panic attack. He has no idea how Phil had calmed him down but he knew that no matter what, he couldn’t shrink down now. Because despite this entire fiasco, it seemed Phil didn’t know he was in fact not a Bean and was instead a Borrower. 

But could he even call himself that anymore? 

Borrowers can’t change their size at will?! What even was he? 

He didn’t know how he’d grown in the first place, let alone know how to shrink back down! Prime! He didn’t even know if he could?! Tommy hadn’t had very long to dwell on those thoughts though. Not when Phil had offered to bring him home, unknowingly saving him from his inner turmoil.

However, even with his new size it was difficult for Tommy to focus on his current situation. The Borrowers at the colony had always said he got easily distracted and that’s what would get a Borrower killed. They’d punished him very harshly every time he had so it was very difficult to focus on following Phil back to the house when everything was just so different. So many new things he’d never seen before or at such a different size. It was alienating in a way, yet he was curious and wanted to know about it all!

So he didn’t understand why when he’d first slipped up, staring at what’s apparently called a Bye-see-call, he hadn’t died by the human’s hand there and then. He’d gotten distracted and needed to be punished, so surely the punishment from them would be 100x worse than what any Borrower could do? But Phil had just simply looked at him oddly before asking if he was alright, asking him why he was staring at the strange contraption with a confused crooked smile. It didn’t make sense! Even after he continued to slip up staring at something else, the man was patient and unknowingly provided answers for what objects were with a smile. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was beyond excited he was learning more about his surroundings, but surely if Phil knew what he really was, this whole situation would be completely different? Yeah that had to be it. If Phil didn’t know he was a Borrower, then he had no reason to harm him. As long as he was big, he was safe. 

But how long could that last? He didn’t know how to become small again and even if he did, he couldn’t with the Bean around. He was trapped in the very place he had tried to get home to and now Wilbur was back. He’d already mucked up, getting ahead of himself responding brashly to Wilbur’s comment about the street lamps. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. He eventually let his eyes wander from the clock to around the kitchen. It was so strange looking at everything at his new size. So familiar yet, so wrong. His eyes soon came to rest upon the bag Phil had taken to work. He’d emptied it of the papers and files when they had first arrived and left the bag sitting on the counter; the cow keychain poking out of it ever so slightly. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat and stared at it in disgust. If he had just left it alone. He didn’t even like its stupid adorable little face anyways. It probably felt really itchy and scratchy to the touch anyways. Tommy hadn’t actually gotten a chance to feel it properly when he tried to unhook it from the keychain. He was too focused on it to take notice of its texture. Besides, it wouldn’t fill the burning desire to fill the hollow feeling in his chest. It was just a dumb cow. Why the hell would he want something as stupid that for all those dumb reasons? He was snapped out of his thoughts as the sound of footsteps made their way back towards the kitchen. ‘Wilbur’ his mind supplied judging by the clinking of the quick, long strides the Bean made whilst walking across the wooden floors. 

As predicted, the Bean walked back around the counter taking a seat back in front of him, leaning forward perched on their elbows. “So Tommy, you hungry?” “Not really.” Tommy lied. He was in fact absolutely starving and exhausted from all the adrenaline he’d been riding the past few hours. He hadn’t eaten anything since last night when he’d gone out on his supply run, but he didn’t want to be a nuisance to the Crafts, but he also didn’t know what he was supposed to do while they were around. “Well, we were thinking we’d get pizza for dinner. Anything in particular you’d like?” Wilbur asked, oblivious to Tommy’s inner turmoil.

“Um, what's Pe-sa?” Testing the strange word out on his tongue, a questioning look on his face. Clearly that was not the right response because Wilbur just stared at him with a furrowed brow puzzled.

“You-you don’t know what Pizza is?” He asked incredulously. “Ha! Just kidding! Of course I know what Pee-za is!” Tommy laughed nervously, trying to play the interaction off as a joke.

“Just get whatever you’d like haha...”

“Uh okay then…” Wilbur stood, giving him a weird look before taking out his phone thingy, pressing buttons on it, making a call to order the pizza. That was a close one.

He sat and waited some more while Wilbur and Phil got things set up for dinner, Tommy returning to stare at various objects before the sound of a doorbell brought him out of his thoughts and the pizza was placed on the counter.

“Eat as much as you like Tommy.”

He gave a timid smile before looking to the box as it was opened and his mouth dropped open. A large circular flat piece of bread covered with red sauce stared Tommy back in the face. It was layered in different kinds of meats and topped with melted cheese, the glorious smell of it wafting through the air filling his nose with a heavenly aroma. So this is Pitza. The thing he’d watched many Beans eating during their movie nights or football finals was sitting before him. He’d smelled it many times wafting through the vents and had tried before to get his hands on a slice. But his only success were the few cold pieces of the crust that some smaller Beans didn’t want. This Peaza though was whole, hot and for him. He picked up a slice and bit into it. 

It was an explosion of flavour and even better than he’d ever imagined. It was like a party in his mouth. No, it was like, TEN parties in his mouth and all at the same time! It was so good in fact, Tommy began to stuff the slice into his mouth. He couldn’t get enough! It was the best damn thing he’d ever eaten!!! “Slow down mate! Don’t want you to choke.” Tommy immediately froze. 

Right. He wasn’t alone in the walls. 

He was in the Crafts kitchen, eating with Phil and Wilbur. Slowly Tommy lowered the rest of the slice he was eating, swallowing the last mouthful with a heavy gulp. How could he forget? He’s eating with Beans. He can’t afford to get over excited and eat as much as he wants. They’d get mad with him for eating too much of their food and then they’d hurt him for being greedy! Slowly he finished the rest of the slice before returning his hands to his lap. “Hey it's alright if you’d like another slice Tommy.” Phil said to him, Tommy glancing up slightly from the remaining pizza. “Just wanted you to slow down is all.” Tommy stared at the pizza, the gloss of the melted cheese tempting him to take another slice tauntingly close. He wanted more. “Uh no thanks.” He lied, closing the lid of the pizza box. “I’m good.” “If you’re sure. We can always heat it up later if you change your mind.” Ignoring the alluring urge for another slice, Tommy allowed his eyes to wander around the room again. He looked at the shelves and to the clock, but found his eyes trailing back down to the cow keychain once more. This time however, Wilbur took notice. “You like that keychain huh?” They mused as Tommy looked away, his face flushed.

“Would be better if it didn’t have that chain bit attached to it.” Tommy murmured as he glanced at the small trinket. “Ruins the softness of the cow.” “If you like, I can remove it from the chain.” He didn’t wait for an answer, as Wilbur carefully began to remove the chain from the plushies stitching. Tommy watched silently as the Bean worked, before he finished and deposited the now chainless plush in front of him. “There we go. What do we think?” He didn’t reply, instead continuing to stare at the small plush. He didn’t- he didn’t think that Wilbur would actually take it off the chain. He really wanted to pick it up. Wanted to take it back into the walls with him. Wanted- “Alright boys, I think we should get Tommy here to bed.” Phil spoke up, interrupting Tommy’s train of thoughts. “You’ve had a pretty big day and I think it would be best if we got you settled and spoke more about things in the morning.” Tommy gave a little nod before standing to follow Phil, eyes trailing down to look at the cow plush one last time before leaving to follow. They walked through the house, Phil leading Tommy into the guest bedroom as he recalled, Wilbur trailing from behind. “You can sleep in here for the night Tommy.” Phil led him into the little room. 

Tommy had been in here many times before. The Beans often used it for storage due to Phil’s ‘Dad hoarding’ habits, as the twins called it, so there was always something easy to borrow. The walls were a plain white and the room itself had a tall bookshelf, a nice desk and single bed with light green bedding. It was quaint despite the array of misfit clutter.

“If you wanted to wash up before bed, I’m sure we could find you something to wear.” Wilbur said as he followed in after Phil and Tommy. “You also don’t have to if you’re not comfortable Tommy.” Phil chimed in. “There’s no pressure.” “Thank you.” he responded quietly before moving towards the bed. Tommy didn’t want to be any more of a bother than what he already had been. The room was enough and the thought of a bath right now while nice also worried him. Water was treated like gold in the old colony and wasting too much of it to bathe in was massively frowned upon. The phantom pain of the scars on his back throbbed slightly at the thought of the last time he’d had a proper bath. He had used the cold streams to wash up many times since the ‘bathing incident’. “Well alright then.” Phil sighed softly as he moved for the door. “The bathroom is down at the end of the hall and to the right if you need it.” Tommy gave a little nod as he watched Phil and Wilbur begin to exit the room. “If you need anything, just let us know. Wilbur’s next door to you and I’m across the hall. If you hear the doors open later tonight, don’t be alarmed. It's just Techno coming home from study.” ‘I know, but thanks’ Tommy thought to himself as Phil left the room, turning his attention now to how Wilbur was wavering by the door frame silently, debating something before nodding and making his way back into the room. “I thought you might like this.” He said as he placed a small brown and white object on the nightstand. The cow plush. “You can have it if you want. I don’t think anyone would mind.” 

Tommy simply stared at the small toy mouth slightly agape, not noticing the way Wilbur smiled softly at him.

“Hope you sleep well Tommy.” Wilbur said as he left the room, swiftly closing the door behind him.

Tommy glared at the cow plush in disgust. It was all the stupid things fault he was in this mess in the first place! If he hadn’t wanted it so badly and just left it alone, stuck to staying within the walls, none of this would have happened! He wouldn’t have gotten stuck in Phil’s bag. He wouldn’t have fallen out of it. He wouldn’t have nearly gotten lost. He certainly NEVER would have grown to be Bean size and gotten stuck at it too! The realization that he was still stuck at this size hit him full force in that moment.

Shit

He had no idea how to become small or if this shift was permanent. He didn’t know how long he could pretend to be a Human Bean before the Crafts got suspicious or kicked him out. Trying to be quiet and submissive may have worked in the old colony, but even they got rid of him as soon as they could. He just wanted to be his normal 3 inch tall self again. Curl up, tucked in small, safe and sound in his little home in the walls. He wanted to be small. He wanted to go home.

Tommy looked over to the small plush again, the once big toy to him now not even half the size of one of his index fingers. Despite all the grief it had caused him, he still wanted it. Still wanted to hold it close and make all the worry wash away. Wanted to feel like he would be loved okay.

He leaned over and gingerly picked up the cow plush and laid down, curling tightly into a ball on the bed as silent tears began to trail down his face.

It was the softest thing he had ever touched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND THERE WE GO! WOOOO YOU MADE IT TO THE BOTTOM! Thank you for reading and thank you to @a-xyz-s for proof reading again!!!

For my gt peeps I know there wasn’t a whole lot of gt this chapter but next chapter I will be back with some tiny Tommy times so stay tuned!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tag list: @brick-a-doodle-do @munchkin1156 I'm not sure who else to add to this. If the tumblr fam wants to be tagged in future let me know or if you want be removed ping me ^v^

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hey! First of all, absolutely love your writing and art, it never fails to make me smile when you post.

I don’t know how to type this without sounding awkward, but I had a random platonic yandere/reader idea inspired by your yandere clone family au that I just wanted to get out of my system and figured you might enjoy.

I started thinking about Arla Fett (Jango’s older sister) in this universe. 

In case you aren’t familiar with her character here’s a quick summary: After the murder of her’s and Jango’s parents she was enslaved by the Death Watch and eventually developed an extremely damaging case Stockholm syndrome. She would act as an assassin for the death watch before being arrested. Later on a Jedi general-turned mandolorian by the name of Bardin Jussik would try to help Arla heal from her trauma but after she begged him to help her forget about it entirely, Bardin simply wiped her memory using the force. The two then fell in love and would have settled down (had order 66 not occurred).

So, then I got to thinking: what if these events happened a few years sooner so that Arla and Bardin were already settled down during the war. And how would the yandere clones react to not only having a blood related sister, but a Jedi brother-in-law, and their likely force sensitive teenager aka reader.

Let’s say the war ends and the various clone battalions are rounding up their respective Jedi but the group formerly run by Bardin Jussik wind up having trouble tracking down their long lost general who left abruptly during the war due to his issues with the Jedi council’s leadership and the republic’s approach to the war. 

They get to the point that TBB get called in to help find him.

Even after some time passes, Jussik doesn’t seem to be anywhere and most assume he’s dead as there is literally no trace of him anywhere. TBB eventually refocus their efforts on to other troublesome Jedi (Such as Kanan, Ezra, Vera Sai, and Nazra) who have at least been seen alive and well in the past decade.

Their efforts to track down the Ghost crew lead them back to Lothal since it’s a planet the Ghost returns to regularly. 

The rest of the batch spreads out to search for clues while Hunter brings the Marauder to a refuel station bc the busy marketplace gives him a headache and he just needs a little rest from constantly tracking. 

He gets there and he’s met with reader working the station who’s about three or four years older than Omega. As Hunter asks them to just refuel the ship he can’t help but notice the teen is sort of staring him down.

Expecting some kind of anti-clone sentiment or getting called sub-human he simply asks

“What never seen a clone before?”

Reader looks at him confused and Hunter suddenly remembers that Lothal never had any part in the war and most people on the planet couldn’t care less who he or his brothers were, especially now that the war was over.

Suddenly, almost like they can read his thoughts, reader starts looking embarrassed and apologetic.

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean but…yeah I guess I have been pretty rude just staring huh?” Reader holds up a hand in front of Hunter’s face and closes one of their eyes so that they can only see the non-tattooed side of his face. “It’s just- my buir used to show me holos of my ba’vodu and I swear you look just like him. I’m probably just imagining it.”

Hunter is taken aback by the comment and is suddenly very interested in learning more about this barely paid refueling station attendant’s family. He figures the kid’s dad and uncle are deserters like Cut Laquane. Reader’s additions of some mando’a into their sentences only seems to cement his theory.

The two have a friendly conversation and Hunter finds himself amused by reader’s wide-eyed curiosity about the world outside of Lothal as it’s very reminiscent of when he first met Omega. 

Meanwhile reader is just thrilled that this starship captain is willing to answer all of their questions about his adventures across the galaxy ( Hunter leaves out the whole capturing and lovingly imprisoning all of the Jedi of course). 

Reader grew up on a farm with barely any contact with anybody aside from their parents (the other kids on Lothal find reader creepy for some reason) so speaking with Hunter is a breath of fresh air.

Reader rambles on about how boring life on the farm is and how they were lucky their parents even let them get a job in town since they’re so overprotective.

Reader winds up feeling guilty for making Hunter uncomfortable at first due to them staring at him and then info dumping on him. Eventually reader offers to pay for the Marauder’s fuel as an apology for wasting the man’s time.  

Hunter and reader wind up talking for so long that the rest of the batch come looking for their leader, only to find him lightly bickering with a kid about how it’s not necessary for them to pay for his fuel for simply looking at him a little too long.

Hunter suddenly remembers he has a duty and mission to complete and goes into leader mode, discussing with the others on where they should land the ship for the night so they have a place to stay.

Reader casually offers the empty field on their family’s farm since they wouldn’t have to pay for it like the ship docking spots in town. Reader also mentions harvest season just passed and their father has a tendency to cook an excess of food. 

Wrecker is sold on the idea immediately upon the offer of free food and begs his brothers to take up the offer.

Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair are made suspicious by the generosity and Crosshair is the one to ask what the catch is.

Reader simply made the offer in hopes of learning more about these strange off-worlders and decides to (naively) strike a deal.

“No catches, no fees. All is ask is each of you give me your best stories from your travels across the galaxy. Deal?”

The batch takes them up on their offer and soon find themselves following the kid home. As they travel, the batch all start noticing things. All of them had been around force sensitive children for some time now and had learned about the small habits that  most force sensitives had. Maybe reader answers any questions they have before the batch can even ask them. Almost like they read the batch’s minds. The batch quickly notice that reader’s reflexes are just a little too fast for a normal person. None of them really need the confirmation but Tech discretely uses a scanner to check reader’s medicloroan count and it’s a higher amount than most.

By the time the Marauder is nearing reader’s farm the entire batch knows they’re taking this kindhearted and naive little force sensitive back with them to Kamino. Now they just need to decide if they need to “take care of” reader’s family before they go.

They land and reader runs up to the house where their very confused mother is waiting in the front yard. Every member of the batch is stunned when they get a good look at reader’s mother. The woman quite literally looks exactly like an adult version of Omega. It’s almost frightening.

Reader’s mother doesn’t entirely know how to feel about the strangers (given she got her memories about the clone war wiped it’s likely she doesn’t realize they’re clones. Let alone clones of her brother)

Reader’s mother introduces herself as Arla Jussik-Fett. At the same time, Bardin steps out of the house and upon seeing the clones, freezes. 

Now, Lothal is an isolated planet, far from the republic. (Exactly the reason he chose to live there)

So Bardin had only heard whispers and warped rumors about what the clones had been doing. As far as he knew, Jedi and force sensitives found by clones were never seen again. Of course Bardin is going to assume they came to kill him and his family.

He never stopped carrying his lightsaber out of cautiousness and already has his hand on it out of instinct.

Reader notices their dad standing close-by and waved him over. 

“Buir! You’ll agree with me! Mom doesn’t agree but don’t you think these guys look like ba’vodu Jango?”  

All hell breaks loose after that.

 Clone force 99 is #shook and Bardin runs to stand between his family and the clones.

“Cyar’ika, ad’ika, go inside and lock the door.” He order, activating his lightsaber. 

Reader is VERY scared by the sudden tenseness that’s taken over. Bardin and Arla share a look and Arla quickly takes reader inside.

Bardin and the Bad Batch take a long few minutes to size one another up. After some time Bardin finally speaks.

“We will give you all one chance to turn around and walk away.”

Crosshair pops a toothpick in his mouth and takes a moment to scan the area.

“We?”

“We.” Bardin nods.

Just then the shot of a sniper rifle rings out. The end of the toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth splinters and is left charred as a blaster bolt just grazes the tip of it. The bolt doesn’t hurt a hair on the clone’s head, but is definitely WAY too close for comfort.

The batch quickly trace the origin of the shot to the front-facing window in the second story of the house where Arla is standing with a rifle pointed down at them.

Arla, despite having lived a fairly quiet and domestic life the past few years, is still a dead on shot. She was a very successful assassin for the Death Watch after all. 

Hitting the toothpick was a warning shot. Crosshair would have dropped had it not been.

“My riduur is right.” Arla shouts down from the open window. “He’s not really the one you need to be worried about.” 

Both Bardin and Arla lived difficult lives and as a result were very particular about security and protecting their home. They wanted to make it so their ad’ika could maintain their innocence. Unfortunately this resulted in reader being extremely sheltered and completely banned from learning how to use their force powers.

After a lot of struggle, Bardin and Arla manage to escape with reader by the skin of their teeth. 

So, TBB return to Kamino to share their strange news. 

They bring the name Arla Fett up to the Alpha clones and they’re vaguely aware of the name as Jango had mentioned her fondly once or twice.

The news quietly spreads around Kamino as a rumor. Some clones are absolutely enthralled by the concept of a new addition to the family. Others are cautious upon finding out Arla was once part of the Death Watch and are against the idea of bringing someone like her near their Jedi.

Some shinnies make the joke that the Fett genetics must give them a type since Arla herself married a Jedi just like so many of her brother’s clones. 

A few of the clones wonder if Arla shares their yandere tendencies. Some clones are already referring to her as Ori’vod Arla and joking about how they wonder if Bardin Jussik is good enough for their big sis. And then some clones just don’t care.

Meanwhile the squad once run by Bardin Jussik is ecstatic to find out their precious general was alive after all. WITH A WIFE NO LESS! Suffice to say they are stoked.

The news about Bardin and Arla’s force sensitive kid is far less widespread or just gets overshadowed.

Since Bardin is off the grid the clones have no idea where he would go. They ask around the Jedi on Kamino but Bardin was never very friendly with any of them. So they instead decide to see what they can find about Arla. Thanks to Emperor Vader the clones are given access to Arla’s arrest records and the subsequent psychiatric treatments she received while in prison. 

When it’s revealed that Arla was essentially enslavement by the Death Watch and used as a soldier it’s like a switch is flipped. Every last clone on Kamino suddenly realizes that the Death Watch did to Arla exactly what the Republic did to them. She really is their sister. A kindred spirit.

Cue the most quietly chaotic custody battle in history with various clone groups and individuals trying to figure out who gets to bring their dear sister and her Jedi husband home to Kamino.

It doesn’t really matter who does it bc the second she’s there she won’t be leaving. With the combined power of the entirety of Kamino it doesn’t take long to find the Jussik-Fett family.

And when they find out about reader? Their ori’vod’s precious ad’ika who’s force sensitive?!

Every single clone is obsessed and wants to be the best uncle.

Every. Single. Clone. 

(I have no idea how that would work out but I feel like the clones would find a way to organize it without completely overwhelming their ori’vod’s dear ad’ika)

Reader’s little family of three suddenly gets much MUCH bigger.

I can see Bardin Jussik being absolutely miserable after being wrangled onto Kamino. (He is absolutely not going without one hell of a fight. He is dragged in kicking and screaming)

The guy left the Jedi order in favor of a mandalorian lifestyle bc he hated the rigidity and hypocrisy of the Jedi. He hated how he couldn’t use his abilities to help more people just because the republic said he wasn’t allowed. Being constantly surrounded by the various Jedi artifacts spread around Kamino would most likely make him feel even more trapped than the bars of the cell that he was kept in before he finally calmed down and stopped biting any clone who would come near.

But he wouldn’t exactly have a chance to escape, especially not with his wife and child! The man would rather die than leave his family alone with the obsessed clones.

I can see him assisting in escapes, but not going with whoever gets loose. He always makes sure he won’t be tied back to the jailbreak so he and his family don’t get in trouble or separated as a punishment. 

(The clones quickly figure out the best way to keep him from trying anything is threatening to take his wife and reader away)

Arla would probably be conflicted about the situation. While she knows being imprisoned on Kamino is supposed to be terrible, she’s happy to be given a second chance at being a sister to Jango. Even if she knows the clones aren’t exactly him (mentally and emotionally that is). She has been in an abusive hostage situation before (Death Watch) but for some reason to her, this time it’s different…? The clones don’t burn a brand into her back like the Death Watch did. They don’t give her scars, don’t chain her up. They never hurt her. They are soft and loving, looking UP to her for guidance and making sure SHE is comfortable being called ori’vod and acting as an older sister to all of them. Many clones go to her for parenting advice and sometimes just to excitedly talk about their day or ask about hers. 

Arla’s mental health has been cracked from a young age. The clones somewhat use this to their advantage. Arla knows that what the clones are doing to the Jedi is wrong, but she also doesn’t entirely see the harm in it?

So many of the families living on Kamino are happy and healthy and everyone cares about one another. And Arla knows that as long as she stays, she’ll be surrounded by family and friends and love. She wouldn’t have to worry about armored soldiers bursting through the door and gunning down her family in front of her. Not again.

She knows Bardin is dissatisfied, and restless and she feels terrible for wanting to stay, but as long as she stays on Kamino, she knows her family is safe.

Reader starts off ecstatic. FINALLY having friends and family who understand them, and mentors willing to help them use the force properly. But before long they start feeling trapped again. Reader realizes they may have traded one prison for another. Lothal for Kamino. They still find themselves wanting to explore the stars. Reader eventually approaches ba’vodu Hunter and asks him if they can come along on the batch’s next expedition.

Hunter flat out says no. The Alphas are strictly against it. Reader asks around and literally every clone on Kamino says no to letting reader come along off world. It’s too dangerous out there for a naive little one like reader! They’re too sweet! Too innocent! (They are also literally getting close to being 18 and very much not a child anymore)

And reader finally realizes the mess they accidentally brought upon themself. 

one day they defeatedly walk up to Hunter, take a seat next to him, tiredly leaning their head on his shoulder.

“Remember that deal we made when we first met? And you promised to give me your best story about one of your adventures? I’m ready to hear it now…”

I’d love to know your thoughts on this! I’d love to know what you think would go differently. This wound up being a lot longer than I thought it would but I figured you might find it interesting! 

Your work is amazing, I think it’s SUPER creative. Please don’t forget to take care of yourself and have an amazing day!

I actually love this.

I dont have a whole lot.more to add except jango fett is still alive in my au. So that would make things extra interesting for aarla.

Also, Bardin and Vera would vibe. She orchestrates a majority of the successful escapes from kamino, and is glad to have his help.

[batrachised]

loosely interpreting the fic ask game but: have you ever had a story go the opposite direction of how you planned? and if so, what was the original plan?

(feel better soon!!)

Tone tends to get away from me. Sometimes the emotional geography of my stories looks like something out of a dr. seuss book. As far as plot, I feel like I tend to land where I aim.

Once I read the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead and was inspired to write some sort of (serious) zombie tale (based on the question that occurred to me, what was Lazarus like after he came back? did he come back the same?), but it ended up being a bit different. I put the story below the cut - I don't think i'll ever finish it, but you can see how it changed from my original conception.

It was a fine, sunny spring day when the dead went walking.

Posy had heard about the dead returning before. Mostly in comics and television shows where they stumbled about like some sort of grisly puppet. She’d asked Mama about it when they first appeared in the woods out back. If they’d have to run far and blow holes in them with guns and leave behind anyone bitten.

“These dead don’t bite,” was all Mama said.

“Not yet,” Posy retorted. She was sent to bed without supper, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. They’d started watching the television every night, where people with shiny teeth and hair would ominously comment on “the state of the world.” Posy had listened at first, but she’d stopped when she realized all they said was what and not why. Sometimes she wondered if they even truly asked it.

Posy’s favorite word was why. She asked why when Mama said she had to help with dinner; she asked why in school when teachers skimmed over ancient histories of people from long ago; she asked why in church when the preacher said that girls made the world better because they were motherly. Posy got in trouble for that last one, although she sulkily thought the preacher must not have ever met Sadie Bitts from the grade above, who got into fistfights so often she was missing her two front teeth and could barely be seen under the coat of dirt she always wore. Posy liked Sadie.

That had been before. The world was different, these days. At least for grown-ups. They muttered a lot and wore grim expressions and jerked when there was a knock at the door. The world seemed to be holding its breath for something.

“Why doesn’t the army attack ‘em?” Posy wondered. She mimed a gun. “Just….bang bang bang!”

“They’re already dead,” Clive, Posy’s older brother, said condescendingly from across the table. Posy glared, imagining herself ripping the glasses of his round, toady face. “Besides, this isn’t a comic book, Posy.”

Posy scowled and wished she could kick him. “They’re zombies.”

“Posy,” Dad said kindly. “They haven’t attacked anyone. They tend to keep to themselves.”

“Yeah, they don’t do anything,” Posy wrinkled her nose. “Maybe they’re waiting.”

An uneasy silence hovered in the air, until Mama sternly told Posy to finish her vegetables.

The dead eventually got a name: Lazaruses. After the dead brother in the Bible. Posy had never personally understood why his sisters had wanted him back. A brother was bad enough, let alone a zombie one.

Most grown-ups ignored the dead after a while. Posy would have said they didn’t know what to do with them. They really weren’t anything like zombies, Posy admitted generously. You saw them everywhere. In the town square, in the city streets, on the bench next to you.

No one liked being near them. They rarely talked or even looked at you.

And they were odd.

You’d pass one with her face stretched to the sky, focused entirely on the treetop fringe etched out against the clean blue. Or one gazing at the grass. Not even a flower, Posy shook her head. Just the usual green grass of summer, rippling in the wind.

One time, on a windy spring day, Mama had taken her to the store, and they’d passed a field where a Lazarus had their arms flung out wide against the rushing wind. Posy had wanted to stop and watch, but Mama’s lips had thinned and she’d hurried Posy past.

At first, people had stopped to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe there was something there. Clive had tried it. He’d gone with a group of friends to follow one and watch what they watched all day, only to come home sunburnt and disappointed. “They aren’t looking at anything,” he’d said, disgusted.

Eventually, the grown-ups decided the Lazaruses were trying to “re-experience their senses,” as some man with crooked teeth and wispy gray hair said on the television. “Perhaps it’s a second childhood of sorts.”

Posy, currently in her first childhood, disagreed. She didn’t spend her time staring at the green earth. But no one listened to her.

There’d also been the attempts to reconnect. Everyone had dead. Posy thought it was funny that people said they had dead, as if they owned them. Sadie had come to school one day, so quiet not even direct taunts had led to fists flying. They’d found her grandmother, Posy learned. She’d come to Sadie’s door. Sadie’s mother had started wailing, sure that it was revenge because they’d picked a granite tombstone instead of the marble the infamously particular grandmother had demanded, but the grandmother hadn’t said a word.

“But what did she do?” Posy scrunched her nose.

“Nothing,” Sadie said uneasily. “She just stared and reached out her hand.”

“She didn’t even say anything?”

“No,” Sadie said with some relief. “Just looked. We sat her on the couch because Mom said it’s polite when you have guests.” She looked uneasy again. “Her hand was reached out the whole time.”

None of the grown-ups liked it when a Lazarus talked. They tended to say things no one wanted to hear. One had been interviewed by one of the shiny people on television and just stared at the glossy man’s tie the entire time. Posy had tried to study the tie too to see what was there, pressed her nose so close to the flickering screen she could nearly see the fuzzy pixels, but it was just a teal tie. It had unnerved the reporter, who probably thought the Lazarus was about to launch at him and tear out his throat with teeth just like Posy had seen in comics, and he’d whinnied a chuckle and asked if something was on his tie.

“Oh,” breathed the man, “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

The Lazarus happened to be paunchy and bald, the sort of man who looked like he’d frequently worn ties before he’d died, the sort who stomped around with loud importance. Mama and Mrs. Pawner from next door had decided he was missing his former life. That the tie reminded him of who he’d been, and he missed it. Posy thought it didn’t make any sense. Who would care about ties?

“I think he liked the color,” she said confidently, as Mama poured Mrs. Pawner more sweet tea.

“Bless her little heart,” Mrs. Pawner chortled. “What old businessman would tear up over a color like that? He hardly looked the artist sort. Now, if it had been green…” She and Mama laughed loudly at that for reasons Posy didn’t understand.

One day, Posy woke up clearheaded and ready for trouble. It was the first day of summer, and the day was already hazy with heat. Posy skipped out of bed, gobbled down breakfast, grudgingly helped with dishes after why got her a tongue-lashing, then exploded out the front door, frizzy braids swinging behind her and freckled face intent on her goal.

Posy was going to talk to the dead.

There was one in the woods behind the house. Posy knew. Her parents ignored him, but she’d seen him. He liked to sit by the creek. Mama didn’t like her to play back there any more because of it, but Mama had also failed to expressly forbid it, something Posy would take full advantage of now.

The woods offered a cool, shady refuge from the summer sun. Leaves whispered in the wind, and dim treetops rustled. Posy saw a squirrel run up a tree, then a particularly strong gust shook the treetops so hard that Posy glanced up carelessly, curious to see what had happened to the squirrel. No squirrel was there, and Posy guessed he’d held on tight.

She paused for a few seconds, thinking of the woman who’d stared at the treetops. Posy studied them with more vigor than she’d given to her tests combined a week ago. Knobby branches stretched out to the sky like arms reaching up. Green leaves of all shapes and sizes were loaded on them: penny leaves, oak leaves, and leaves Posy didn’t know the name of. You could only see patches of the clear blue sky that came with summer, here and there.

A stick cracked. Posy’s head shot to where she’d heard it. She’d gotten distracted by the trees.

There stood the Lazarus.

She’d never had an opportunity to look one in the face so closely, and Posy seized her chance.  

He looked gaunt, Posy thought, recalling her vocabulary test from last week. She determinedly looked at his eyes. Living dead were s’posed to have glassy and hollow eyes, like they weren’t even human.

But Posy did not find the sort of eyes you’d see on a dead animal carcass. Instead—instead—

Posy looked away. His eyes hadn’t been inhuman. They were human—horribly so—the most human thing Posy had ever seen. No eyes of anyone living compared. The difference as if you’d stumbled around a room in the dark for years, only to finally turn on the light and see it as it was, laid bare in its clutter and its emptiness and its filth.

“Hello,” she said, timidly for Posy. “I wanted to meet you.”

Lazarus didn’t say anything, but Posy hadn’t expected him too. He had closed his eyes.

Posy closed hers too in the efforts of scientific investigation. She heard birdsong and leaves and wind.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

This was the first of Posy’s tests. Either she would be ignored, and she’d know the dead didn’t care about polite conversation, or he’d respond, and she’d know habits died harder than men.

The response came, nearly blending in with the wind in the background.

“Why are you here?”

Posy didn’t know where to categorize that. Neither polite conversation nor dismissal. Still, she cocked her head. The words held an intent focus, like Lazarus considered the conversation the most important thing happening right now, unlike anyone else Posy usually tried to talk to.

Posy was flattered.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She marched over to a log and sat. It had a damp, earthy smell, and Posy enjoyed the scent for a moment. “I have questions.” She stopped sheepishly. Posy was on a mission, but she didn’t want to be rude. “If it’s okay. I brought food.” She pulled an apple from her pocket.

Test number two. Posy wanted to see if Lazarus would eat. She didn’t think so, but you could never be sure.

Lazarus took the apple—examined it—traced a finger down its lines—then took an enormous bite. Posy watched, rather impressed. Lazarus’ expression was sheer bliss.

“You must not have eaten in a long time.” Posy made a note of that in her head, planning to follow up with more questions, but then Lazarus started shaking his head.

“No, no, no, it’s all so good, isn’t it?” He flung himself down and gazed up. “It’s all so good—it’s all so good.” He kept murmuring to himself as he watched the leaves. “All so good. So good.”

“Yes,” Posy said primly, taken aback and so reverting to the familiarity of proper manners. “A nice day.”

“A good day,” Lazarus corrected. “A good day. It is good.”

Posy didn’t see much difference between ‘nice’ and ‘good,’ so she shrugged and swung her legs, waiting a bit before asking her next question.

“Do you remember who you were?”

Lazarus’ response came instantly.

“I am still.”

Posy waited. That was the entire answer. Then Lazarus started laughing, leaning back his head in the shade and said something Posy did not understand at all.

“In fact, I am the most I ever was.”

[celestialkth]

mourning the loss of your boyfriend's beloved childhood pet, he surprises you with an afternoon that helps to mend your broken heart.

➵ pairing ; taehyung x fem reader

➵ genre ; fluff

➵ word count ; 2.3K

➵ warnings ; talking of losing a pet , use of affectionate nicknames , some language , they're v in love w each others

➵ author's note ; first drabble that occurs in the mikrokosmos universe ❥ a lovely friend and moot ( @axialitae ) mentioned that i could write drabbles about this couple, then work on their origin fic. so that's what i'm going to do •ᴗ•

i'm excited to write more drabbles about them and introduce them to everyone. i've seen other authors open their inboxes for people to ask their characters questions, and i would love to do that with them. i'll link it below if you'd like to talk with them •ᴗ•

masterlist | series masterlist | chat w the characters

boyf <3 [4:54]

bad news

miso died

[4:55]

NO

PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING

boyf <3 [4:55]

babygirl 

:|

why wld i joke abt tht

[4:56]

ok ASSHOLE

that’s not what i meant

boyf <3 [4:58]

can’t believe my duck died an ur bullying me

[4:58]

how are you doing?

boyf <3 [4:59]

im ok. he was old an wasn’t eating. kinda expected it

what abt u, tho

eomma was more concerned abt u

[5:00]

i feel like i’m going to be sick

boyf <3 [5:00]

nooooo

deep breaths

[5:01]

i’m just so sad

i love miso so much

and now he’s gone

i can’t feed him anymore

or give him kisses

he’s not going to lay in my lap anymore

boyf <3 [5:03]

:(

u were his fac

fav*

loved him mom. eomma’s boy

[5:04]

eomma’s boy :(

boyf <3 [5:04]

i was his dad but fuck me ig

[5:05]

thank you. that made me laugh

i’m so sad, tae

time to change my lock screen

to that photo of you and miso

the one i love sm :(

boyf <3 [5:06]

what abt the one of u w him?

[5:06]

noooo. i want you two

my boys <3

boyf <3 [5:07]

cute

i love you, babygirl

[5:08]

i love you too

very, very much <3

Two weeks have passed since losing Miso. A week and a half since Mrs Kim had made the decision to rehome Namjoon’s duck to someone with an entire flock. The first visit to Tae’s house had felt lonely. Your heart aching when you had looked out the back door, hitting hard when realizing there will never be another moment where you can see the duck that had captured your heart.

Never another time where you’ll see him waddle around his enclosure, swimming in his little pond and feasting on his food. No more chances of teasing Tae that he should’ve chosen the name ‘Cow’ instead for Miso’s black and white features. Tae had held you close when you lost it in his room. Quieting you each time you tried to apologize for being so dramatic and telling you that it’s never easy to lose something you love.

Comforting you when you should’ve been comforting him.

He’d been the one to lose his childhood pet. He’d been eight when his parents introduced the idea of getting their sons a pet to help combat the stress of moving to a foreign country and the difficulties of language barriers. But dogs were out of the equation. The high maintenance of providing a good life clashed with their bustling one. And cats didn’t stand a chance for consideration with Mr Kim’s allergy.

The idea of welcoming birds into their home merely falling into their laps on a random afternoon when they’d traveled to the local farming supply store, and Namjoon had been enraptured by the assortment of ducks and chicks for sale.

Miso had been there for Tae through it all. Through his high school graduation, through his romances and heartbreak. Through the heartache that came when Jin and Namjoon moved out to study in prestigious universities in different parts of the country. He’d always been there, and it hurts that now he’s not.

boyf <3 [11:02]

u home?

[11:05]

ya

in my room

boyf <3 [11:06]

im outside

let’s go for a drive pls?

[11:07]

cannot lie. that’s a little concerning

boyf <3 [11:08]

hush. its not bad :|

im trying to be cute n spontaneous 

[11:09]

give me like five minutes to change?

boyf <3 [11:09]

ok :)

He’s scrolling through Twitter when you climb into his front seat. His gentle humming to the unfamiliar song from his Spotify is music to your ears. “Hi, Babe.” Tae closes out of the app, dropping his phone into its designated cup holder before leaning across the console to greet you with a kiss.

“Hi,” you smile, buckling yourself in. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” Showing that he’s serious about being spontaneous. He’s never been one to do surprises, always spoiling it before he can stop himself. “But it’s a bit of a drive. Would you like a silly little beverage for the ride?”

“Of course.”

The neighborhood is quiet. Despite the picturesque sky and the warm, welcoming sun, there’s not a single soul in sight. It’s the perfect weather for a leisurely adventure.

“You’re very serious about being spontaneous,” you comment. He reaches, his hand finding its favorite place upon your thigh. “You’re usually horrible at keeping secrets.” Tae bursts out laughing. His beautiful smile filling his face. “But I love it. I can’t wait to see what you have planned.”

“Trust me,” he snorts. “I almost blew this one too.”

He stops at a small gas station not too far from your house. Gathering a snack and drink each before piling back into his car to begin the adventure he’s so excited about. Road trips with him are fun. From singing along to your favorite songs, forcing him into duets of songs he pretends to hate, to the ridiculous little comments made that send you both into fits of lighthearted giggles. Even with no clear destination in mind, it doesn’t feel like you’re traveling for long, and after an hour, you arrive.

“An industrial park?” You tease. Pretending you don’t notice the sign for a small trail tucked away in a mess of trees. Tae lunges at you, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off the ground. “I was joking!” You exclaim through giggles.

“No, not an industrial park, you dingus.” His own laughter mingles with yours, and he sets you back onto the ground. “Hobi was talking about this trail. And I found this. Thought it would be fun to get out and explore.”

And so you do.

Following the paved pathway through winding trees. Gentle sounds of rushing water are distant background noise but loud enough to coax you away. You set out to explore, finding dirt paths and stairs, worn down grass and hills to climb. A beautiful little creek hides amongst it all, and you’ve never felt so carefree.

The path is small. A welcoming swing overlooks a hill that peers down onto the water, but after finding a spider hidden within the webs and Tae’s refusal to kill it, you carry on. Going until the path ends in another parking lot and you start making the trek back.

“This was fun. I’m glad we came.” You swing your hand entwined with his, basking in the different sights and noises that surround you. And Tae beams, proud of himself for a successful day. “I bet there are so many more beautiful places to discover.”

“We’re not done yet,” he promises. And when you return to his car, rather than get into it, Tae drags you along, continuing the walk. Following a sidewalk that runs alongside the creek and leads into a busier part of this small town.

“Now city hall? Are we going to pay our property taxes?”

He heaves a sigh. Trying his hardest to seem annoyed but falling victim to a laugh. “Fine, that one was funny,” Tae admits. “But no, we’re not going to city hall.” The sidewalk ends, a marker points in the direction of where the trail reconnects. And after crossing a small street and passing through another parking lot, you’re back on track. Stumbling upon a small pond.

“This is cute,” you smile. Loving what different treasures are hidden about. Even in the midst of the bustle of small town traffic, the cutest little pond offers peace. “I can’t believe this is here, and that you found it.”

“Wait, there’s more!” Tae reaches for your hand. He drags you along, moving a little faster than before. A small red bridge crosses over the creek, and he doesn’t stop until you’re on the opposite side. “Surprise!”

And tears spring to your eyes. A small flock of ducks. All gathered under the tree for shade from the unforgiving sun. A few stragglers even swim in the water. “Taehyung!” He beckons you into his arms. Holding you close and his sweet laugh is music to your ears. “I can’t believe you!”

“I wanted to surprise you.” His hand wraps around the back of your head. Holding you, comforting you while you sob into his chest. “It’s been so heartbreaking seeing how hard you’ve been taking Miso’s death.”

Your heart floods with warmth. The tears that fall are filled with the love that overflows, and you can’t find the words to describe all that he is to you.

“I love you,” you beam. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you even more.” Tae presses a soft kiss to your head, giving you an affectionate squeeze before slipping from your grasp. “Come on, let’s feed them. There’s a machine over here.” And he drags you back across the bridge towards a large stand where two dispensers are filled with pellets.

“I left my wallet in your car.”

He scoffs, “As if I’ll let you pay. I’ve come prepared.” Tae dips into his front pocket, retrieving a handful of quarters. And with the largest, proudest smile upon his face, he thrusts his hand towards you.

“I’m so spoiled.” But he passes a couple to you, holding the rest securely while the dispenser releases a load of pellets into your awaiting hands. “Come on!” You beam. Leaving Tae being as you race back towards the flock.

But he doesn’t speak. Still watching with a loving smile, he allows you the moment to bask in this happiness.

A couple ducks take interest at what’s in your hands. Inching their way towards you when you toss food in their general direction. Tears of utter bliss threaten to spill, and you lower to your knees when others become curious.

“Tae,” you whisper. He stands off to the right, not wanting to risk scaring them off if he were to come closer. “Look at them. Look at the babies.” He digs for his phone. Memorializing the moment with pictures.

He’s unaware that your heart is on the brink of exploding. From the overwhelming love that resides for your second favorite animal to the immense love that your heart possesses for him and only him. A few tears slip through your lashes, the only way you can express the emotions that bubble inside you.

You’ve never had someone care so much for you. And you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve this.

Tae’s patient as you continue feeding the ducks. His smile not budging each time you return for pellets, and when his stash of change runs dry, it’s your cue to leave. You walk back to his car hand-in-hand. But you cling to him, your arms wrapped around his. Your head against his bicep, desperate to shower him with your love and affection after all he’d done for you. You’re desperate for him to know how in love with him you are.

“Have fun?” He asks.

But he has no idea. You nod. “Best day ever.” And a small tint of red burns in his face. “I love you so much. Thank you for doing this for me.”

He shrugs, as if it were nothing. But his permanent grin gives him away, how proud he is that he’s come up with this idea. “I’m glad. You deserved this,” he replies, and you heart is not safe. Seconds from combusting. You’re impatient to get back to your house and love on him well into the night.

The drive back is peaceful. Exhausting settling in from the heat, you two ride in comfortable silence. Halfway through the drive, his phone buzzes with a message from his mom. He asks you to answer, sneaking the briefest glance at the screen. And when his phone unlocks, opening to their last conversation, one of the numerous photos he’d taken stares back with a message in Korean that you can’t understand.

“She replied with a heart,” you answer. “And something I don’t understand.” Coming to a stop at a green-light-turned-red, he looks at the screen, nodding but not uttering a word. “What did you tell her?”

He starts to smirk. Leaving you to dread whatever’s going to come from his mouth. “It’s right there,” Tae teases. “You can’t read it?” His laughter fills the car when you groan. Delighted in your reaction as he always is.

“No,” you answer. “I’m trying to learn, but my tutor always get distracted during lessons.”

“Can’t help it. Hearing you speak Korean makes me want to kiss you. Is that such a sin?” He scoffs. “If wanting to kiss your girlfriend is a crime, then lock me away.” The light switches to green, the car in front of you hesitating a second before slowly crossing the intersection.

“Charges dropped. But please tell me what you said? Please, Tae Tae. Pretty please.”

He laughs a little more. “All I said was that you have no idea how happy you make me.” The tips of his ears turn a little red at his admission. But your heart is damn near close to exploding again. “I think she said that she loves us. I’m not sure, I didn’t really read it.” His attention remains focused on the road.

But yours is stuck on him.

“I love you.” His lips curl upward, sneaking a glance before turning back to the road. “I wish there was something stronger than love. Because I more than love you.” Tae peels a hand away from the steering wheel to take yours.. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to look at you and not have any words that can tell you how much you mean to me?”

He nods. “Every single time I look at you,” Tae replies. “But actions speak louder, and I can feel how much you love me in everything you do. I am one lucky man.” You want to throw yourself at him, want to shower him in your endless love and affection. But you settle for a squeeze of his hand. One that you hope he knows means you’re lucky too.

And you pray that he’s yours forever.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Perhaps this is a weird ask but it came up in a few conversations recently.

There’s one anecdote floating around that Flake may have questioned his gender identity when he was younger, what’s the deal with it? So many people I know have heard of it, and no one actually has a source! Because of that I doubt its validity. And if untrue, I wonder where it started. Have you heard of it?

At the end of the day it’s not our business anyways, I’m just curious.

Interesting..i must say i never heard it before, but ofcourse i haven't heard or read everything Flake has said, and with his book tours and various podcasts (his own, or guesting on others'), he may well have said something in that direction and i don't know it.

It is not an often recurring theme though, not like talking about hiking with his family or his chilean friend, or being scarec of everything; about that he talks a lot.

Just to be sure, i turned to Flake's first book 'Der Tastenficker' which is more biographical about himself than 'Heute hat die Welt Geburtstag', and reread the first parts. As far as i can tell there is nothing in it about questioning gender identity or something alluding to it.

I found one part that, although not about gender as such, it does involve wearing girl's clothes, and i wonder if this somehow evolved into something different after retelling (either by Flake himself, or by fans). In it Flake talks about getting packages from 'The West' from family if his dad. (page 55 in my edition of Der Tastenficker)

"Denn wir bekamen nur ganz selten Westpakete von der Familie meines Vaters. Da waren dann auch einige abgelegte Anziehsachen dabei, die ich gerne anzog, schon allein, weil sie so gut rochen. Mir fiel gar nicht auf, dass das alles Mädchensachen waren, da wir im Westen nur zwei Cousinen hatten, die etwas älter als wir waren und uns ihre abgelegten Sachen schicken konnten. Ich fand besonders die Kleider sehr praktisch, weil ich sie mir in die Unterhosen stecken konnte, ohne dass sie herausrutschten. Auch als Nachthemd waren sie sehr kuschelig. Meine Band war allerdings recht irritiert, als ich eines Morgens ganz stolz im Kleid zum Frühstück erschien."

"Because we only very rarely got packages from the West from my father's family. There were also some discarded clothes that I liked to put on, if only because they smelled so good. It didn't even occur to me that it was all girl stuff, since we only had two girl-cousins ​​in the west who were a little older than us and could send us their discarded things. I found the dresses especially useful because I could tuck them into my underwear without them falling out. They were also very cozy as nightgowns. However, my band was quite irritated when I showed up proudly in my dress for breakfast one morning."

But that's the nearest i could find...maybe someone else has an idea 🌺

more quotes from Rammstein books

[themarvelhorse]

Oversharing with 15 answers to 15 questions! Tagged by @paeonia-horse, thanks!

You know, some of these questions seem familiar. Maybe I answered this a while back? Maybe my answers will be different this time around.

Are you named after anyone? Yeah, I'm named after my great grandfather.

When was the last time you cried? Oooh jeez uh, I think there were probably a few moments here and there before the one I'm about to give where I teared up but I definitely cried at my best friend's brother's funeral just before Christmas.

Do you have kids? I don't but people ask me this often. Do I want kids? Not if it means having them with the life I'm currently living lmao.

What sports do you play/have you played? Willingly? Ah, I never really got in any particular sport. I've enjoyed casual running, and played squash with friends.

Do you use sarcasm? Not as much as I used to. It's started to feel mean, and also ineffective when sarcasm can't be read by certain people.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Face and friendliness?

What is your eye color? The colour of dry dirt.

Scary movies or happy endings? Are you trying to ask me if I prefer tragedy or comedy? The more optimistic one I suppose.

Any talents? I'm very good at flipping coins. Round and round it goes, how it lands? Nobody knows!

Where were you born? What are you? A security question? Anyway, I was born in the land of Mordor in the fires of Mount Doom, where the dark lord Sauron forged me in secret. And into me he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life.

What are your hobbies? Analyzing stuff as the brain goblins take over. Activism, I guess. Fantasizing about the creative projects I could do if I had the time or resources (Damn I even stopped playing video games in the past year). Also repairing whatever I can repair around the house. I spent two afternoons hyperfixating on getting my dad's espresso machine to work. And it did!

Do you have any pets? Dad's got a dog I've been taking care of.

How tall are you? What are you, a cop? Or one of those height measuring things in Shoppers to record the heights of shoplifters? Somewhere between 5'6 and 5'10.

Favorite subject in school? Geography and environment. Lo' and behold I kept going with that lol.

Dream job? Hard to answer this one. If I were to think about it in terms of "What invigorates me", I'd come up short. Got perpetual burnout, so it's probably a symptom of other things that have to be addressed somehow.

Maybe in a system that doesn't push you to exhaustion as much as possible, I think I'd like to be a repairperson, partly cause of the aforementioned hyperfixations that occur when wanting to figure out how to fix stuff. Either that or barista, again, in an idyllic world that with few terrible customers and sufficient resources and staff.

Tagging @jameshoppy, @allyooops, @acryweaver, @marvelandponder, and @jade-mod!

As Paeonia said, if you do chose to do this, take care not to make yourself vulnerable to password stealing

[bluecatwriter]

Arthur 1, 3, 12, 16

Thanks for the ask! :D

1. My first impression of them: I honestly don't remember what I thought of Arthur when he first shows up in the narrative; I joined Dracula Daily in July and was rushing through the entries to try to catch up! Like, I thought he was fine, no reason to dislike him. I think I really had my "oh" moment when Lucy died (the first time) and Arthur was grieving her— I have a thing for men crying, and I loved that unlike Jack he was so expressive with his feelings. What made me fall absolutely head-over-heels for him, though, was when he cried on Mina's shoulder. Forever fave after that.

3. A song that reminds me of them: I actually don't generally associate characters with songs (especially since a lot of the music I listen to falls into the songwriting style of "people in very specific situations"), so I don't have this connection. I'd be interested to hear what anyone else has to say about it, though!

12. Sexuality hc!: I tend to headcanon people "whatever makes the most sense for the fic I'm writing" (which can vary wildly), but my favorite headcanon is that he's demi-bisexual, aka he can fall in love with and be attracted to anyone, but he generally doesn't feel attraction until after he's formed an emotional bond. I think this fits well with how he relates to the others in the story.

16. A childhood headcanon: I favor the backstory that his mom died giving birth to him and that his dad worked hard to make sure that he had a wonderful childhood. He just strikes me as someone who comes from an emotionally stable background (unlike someone I know *coughJackcoughcough*). My favorite headcanon is in one of my fics, written from child!John Seward's point of view:

Arthur also confused John. The boy seemed to have no concept of proper and improper, much as his governess tried to instill good manners in him. Arthur was full of questions and exclamations, and often acted on impulse without the slightest thought of what would happen next. John hated it when Arthur came over to his house, because some easily-avoidable catastrophe would always occur. Arthur would want to smell a pretty flower in a vase, and the next thing they knew he had pulled the whole vase down on top of his head, and gotten water and flowers all over the carpet, and he was crying. Then John's mother would burst in and yell at John for not being the responsible one and keeping his friend out of trouble. At the Godalming estate, everything was different. When Arthur inevitably did something foolish, such as trying to get his pet cat to sit and play tea-party with them and then got his face scratched, no one ever blamed John for it. If Arthur's father was around, he would always give Arthur a hug and listen seriously as Arthur told him what happened. He would ask gentle questions, trying to help his son connect the dots between his actions and the consequences of his actions. John would stand by impatiently, knowing how extremely effective a stern, "I'm ashamed of you" would be with a sensitive boy like Arthur, and feeling oddly restless when Godalming never expressed disappointment or tried to shame him for the things he did.

(Ask game here. This is fun!)

[mindful-of-ideas]

A/N: This is kind of supposed to be set in the same universe as this post. So, basically, House is your dad, and you move in with him and Wilson. Since your dad is more distant, you go really close really quickly to James, so much you consider him like your dad. Also, I am not Jewish (as you might have guessed from previous posts), but I did do some research and tried to stick to stuff I knew. If I made any mistakes please, please, please tell me.

“Oh, what are you making,” you said, barging into the apartment.

“Hello to you too. I’m good, thanks. How about you?” James asked.

“Sorry,” you said, getting up on the counter by his workspace, “Hi, I’m good.”

You smiled at him. You hadn’t been living here for too long, yet it already felt like home.

“So, what is it?” you asked again.

If there was one thing you had learned right away, it was that James made the most amazing food ever. Yes, there was some burnt stuff or some new recipe with too much of one thing, but those were rare occasions. And it ranged from breakfast to dinner, from appetizers to desserts, and from quick snacks to five-course meals. Coming from a house where your mom often forgot to even buy some food, this made you feel like the luckiest person on Earth.

“So, what is it?” you asked again.

“Latkes,” he said, picking up a potato.

He already had a good amount grated thinly, yet he was still going.

“Latkes? What are those?”

“It’s like a potato pancake if you want. You grate some potatoes, combined them with matzo meal, egg, salt and pepper, and then you make pancakes and fry them. That’s it!”

“Matzo…? Well, it does sound really good,” you said, handing him yet another potato, “How come you’ve never made that before?”

“It just never occurred to me before now I guess.”

“Why?”

“Do you always ask that many questions or is it just today?”

“Sorry…”

“It’s something we typically eat during Hanukkah, that’s why,” he answered, “And don’t be sorry.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was… Happy Hanukkah! I can’t wait to taste them if that’s okay.”

You felt so dumb. You knew James was Jewish and you had been meaning to learn about Hanukkah so that, not only could you wish him a Happy Hanukkah on the right date, but also just to be nice. It was the least you could do for the man who welcomed you into his life like that.

“Why, of course, it’s okay! You think I’m making that many latkes only for myself?”

“I don’t know… I just… I don’t know much about Hanukkah and Judaism, I didn’t want to say something… wrong.”

“Well, what do you know,” he asked, smiling.

“I know about the menorah with the candles, there’s like eight plus one to light the others and it’s like to remember the days some… people spent in a… cave? Something about them having to save their oil so they would have enough light. And there are the dice, though I have no idea what it’s supposed to represent or how you’re supposed to use them… And well, you mentioned food so I guess there is other very specific food, just like Easter…”

You stopped there. That was everything you knew.

“I’m so sorry I don’t know more,” you added.

“Y/N, that is an awful lot,” he said, smiling at you proudly, “you don’t have to apologize, it’s okay to be curious about things and learn about them.”

You smiled letting out a sigh.

“Can I ask you something,” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“What does Christmas mean to you?”

“Ummm… that is a good question actually.”

“Take your time,” he said, going back to his potatoes.

To you, Christmas had never really been a religious thing. You actually had a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that some people still viewed it as a religious holiday first and a capitalist holiday second. But Christmas wasn’t either about spending loads of money on presents. It was more about taking the time to breathe after the marathon that were final exams, and to look back on what you’ve accomplished. The free time also meant that you could go out and do some fun activities with friends. And as for Christmas day itself:

“I guess Christmas is one day of the year when you get together with friends and family and enjoy being there for each other. I don’t really care about getting presents, I’d much rather give them and see how happy people are to get them. Christmas means getting together and having fun.

“Well, that’s what I think about Hanukkah. See, it’s not that different in the end.”

He looked at you, waiting to see if you were going to ask something else. Seeing that you didn’t, he added:

“How about you help me finish this,” he said, “Then, I’ll tell you about Hanukkah. And you can ask as many questions as you want.”

“Sure!” you said, jumping off the counter, “And James?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I still buy you a ‘Christmas’ present… well a Hanukkah present…or a… a present, I guess.”

He turned to face you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course, you can! You don’t have to, you’re taking interest in Hanukkah is the best present I could ask for.”

“Cheesy, I love it!” you said.

He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want to, I got this super cool idea weeks ago and I’ve been dying to give this to you!” you said excitedly.

“Okay, okay,” he said smiling, “Don’t spoil it though.”

“I wouldn’t! What should I do to help?”

“I am putting you on grating duty, my arm’s tired,” he said laughing.

[nowoyas]

Edible Arrangements 28

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: Happy holidays to all celebrating! I hope you're all having a great day and, if not, here's at least some comfort and plot.

Chapter summary: You and Izuku share a relaxing night after your friends go home.

Warnings: blood/drinking, more family issues

Word count: ~2000 words

You spend too long standing outside. You can’t help it. The bitter November cold feels great on your arm and on your cheeks, and there’s questions on your lips, in your head, and in the night air. When at last you turn around and come back inside, it feels like you leave something behind out there.

Inside is Izuku. He’s sat on the couch, reticent, eyes far away, looking right through a blank television screen. Sbeve is loafing on the back of the couch beside him, also staring. Neither looks at you when you come in, nor at the whine of the door closing behind you. The house feels all too quiet and empty, just for this moment, just while you’re still trying to listen to the questions whispering at the back of your mind.

So you stop trying to listen.

Instead, you fill that empty space by marching right up to Izuku and cuddling up next to him on the couch, careful not to disturb Sbeve. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. You’re not looking for his glow this time—you don’t need it to know he’s hiding something, something small. “Just… yeah.”

“Not something you’re up for talking about?”

“Not yet,” he breathes and leans into you.

The pair of you drink in that moment. You bring up a hand to idly play with his hair, and he leans into that, too.

It occurs to you, then, how right this feels. Is it because you’ve clung so tightly to him since the attack? It must be—no one could spend that many nights sleeping with someone without feeling a little comforted at their presence.

Yeah, that’s it. It has to be.

(You’re glowing.)

“You know,” you say into the comfort of the silence, because all comfort must end, “I never thought I’d get to have this again.”

“Have what?” Izuku shifts against you, lets the both of you sink into each other more.

“I dunno, just… a happy Thanksgiving. As… god, what’s even the word here? As awful as my parents were, I miss them. No one will admit it, but I know they suggested Friendsgiving to make me feel better about not having a family to go back to.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “[name]…”

“I know it’s not at all even close to the same, but…” The words are coming, even as you know it’s the wrong thing to ask. “Do you miss yours?”

He takes his time answering. You give it to him. “Every day.”

“I’m sorry they’re not here with us. I would have loved to meet them.”

His head drops, just a little, resting on yours. You think he shudders, just a touch. “They would have loved you, too.” The smallest chuckle escapes him. “Mom was such a worrier. She would have loaded you up with food, just to make sure you were eating enough.”

“You’re like her, then.”

He chokes on your words. You think he’s tearing up. “Yeah. I am.”

“And your dad?”

“Almost as bad as Mom. He wasn’t quite as big on feeding people, though. But he always made sure we’d have everything we need.” His free hand shifts. He’s staring down at his open palm, at a scar you hadn’t taken time to notice much before. Your own scarred hand reaches out before you notice, and you stop short, resting your hand just next to his, thumb brushing his skin.

You understand him just a bit better now. “Then you’re like him, too.”

He laughs, the beginnings of tears reaching his voice. “I don’t think so. If I were more like him, I—“

“It wasn’t your fault. Don’t even finish that thought.”

Yeah, you get him now.

The worrisome man who feeds you and always makes sure you have everything you need.

Not for the first time, you wonder how you can do more for him. Would he even let you give anything back?

All you can do is what you can. And if nothing else, there’s one thing you can do.

You could ply him with flowery words and affection and all the sweet things that heal people less broken than you. You could cuddle into him until he sleeps and you sleep, too. You could do that and more in hopes it’d bring him healing. But that’s not what he needs right now.

You shift away from him, turning to face him on the couch.

He looks to you, a question mixed into the sadness.

“How long has it been since you had a meal?” you ask, tilting your head, and he understands.

“It’s been—“

“One week,” you interrupt before the lie leaves his lips. “You’re due, mister.”

He smiles, soft, and nods. “Y-yeah, I am.” He leans closer, just a bit. “May I…?”

“Do your thing.”

He’s leaning forward on his hands, then, closing the distance between you. In another life, this would be going a much different direction, but he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, and you lean into it and lean back, letting him crawl ever forward to trap you with his teeth.

By now, the experience is painless. You’ve learned to ignore the pressure, the pinpricks of his teeth sliding into your skin, just to let the sweet feeling wash over you. It’s smooth, addictive by now as he settles his whole body onto you, just enough support in place not to crush you.

He knows, by now, exactly how long he can drink from you before you get the earliest warnings of dizziness. Even before your steadying hands can tap at his shoulder, he’s pulling back, going through each little step of your personalized aftercare—a lathe of his tongue, a smoothing out of the bandaids with two gentle fingertips.

This, only you can do for him.

(You choose to believe it’s only you.)

“You okay?” he asks, sliding off you.

You nod, a soft sigh the only noise you can bring to pass your lips right away.

“I’ll be back. Um. Thank you, again, for that. And sorry.”

You laugh softly. “You apologize every time. I promise, you’re okay. I’m okay.”

He returns moments later, a cold capri sun being placed in your hand, the straw already in. “I-I know you’ve definitely had enough to eat today with everything everyone brought, but still—“

“I know, ‘Zuku. Thank you.” You give him a loopy smile, and he settles on the couch beside you, hands folded in his lap expectantly. It seems he won’t talk until you drink. To placate him, you take small sips until you’re done floating and can make yourself sit up. He lifts an arm, a sweet, anxious smile on his face, and you accept the invitation, curling right up next to him.

“If, if all that hadn’t happened…” he starts, weak. He’s staring at his hand again, his mind somewhere far, far from this couch. “…if Mom and Toshinori hadn’t… If I’d been quicker, if I’d been better—“

“Izuku—“

“—let me finish,” he says, firm, and you go still. His tone stings, just a touch, but you drink your problems with the capri sun. “S-sorry! I just… If I’d been fast enough and strong enough and everything enough to save them, if I hadn’t become this…”

You frown. He goes on.

“I-I guess I’m just trying to say, y-you know, that… I’m really, um, I’m just…” His scarred, open palm clenches into a fist. He pulses his fingers a few time, as though grabbing the words he’s searching for. “I’m glad that I met you.” Each word is measured, careful. “I probably wouldn’t have if not for that. And we would never have been like this. There’s so much, so much I would change, but I got you from it, and I’m glad that…”

The words settle heavy and fluttery in your stomach. He isn’t…? “Izuku, I—“

A crash breaks the both of you apart, snaps you out of your capri sun and your dizzy crush. Sbeve isn’t behind you on the couch anymore, having disappeared to another room to wreak havoc on whatever you stupidly left unattended and within cat ranges. You jump further apart, the pair of you both already in damage-control mode. Sbeve hasn’t gone far—how in the hell he managed to overturn a chair, you have no fucking clue, but he’s long since darted away from it, barreling into your knees the moment you lay eyes on the offending chair.

“Wh—get back here, you little shit!”

He’s already darting across the house, and you and Izuku are both giving chase, tracking down the cat and running about until all three of you are collapsed in a pile on the floor. Whatever had been in the air between you and Izuku before, it’s floated away, evaporated among the sound of your collective laughter. The laughter dies away soon enough, and then, there you are—human, vampire, kitten, staring up at the high ceiling and catching your breath.

“I think I’m getting closer to finding the man who killed my parents.”

It’s one sentence. It’s not even a fully committed sentence—softened by I think as though it changes the reality of the matter. It’s more than enough to freeze the bubbles of happiness in your throat as you take it in. “…What are you hoping to do?”

“Kill him, I think? I… I thought about asking those hunters for advice. I mean… n-nothing else will be enough, right? He’s… he’s a serial killer. He’ll keep doing it until someone takes him down, a-and a vampire’s not going to age out of living, s-so… I think I have to.”

You roll onto your side, staring at his profile. He continues staring up at the ceiling, his gaze hard. “You said one of the hunters was enthralled, right? Does the other remember how to get his hands on holy water?”

“You’re sure you’re okay with killing him?”

His eyes flick to you, borderline offended. “[name], he’s a serial killer, it’s not like—“

“I know.” You lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m not judging your decision, Izuku. I won’t lie and say that it’s not kinda terrifying, but I get it. I just want you to be sure that you’re making the right decision for you before you can’t take it back.”

“…yeah.” He turns back to the ceiling, exhaling softly. “I’m never going to get over what he did. No matter what I do, he’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. I’d rather that he haunt me dead than alive.”

You sigh, shuffling over to curl into his side. “As long as you’re sure… I’m scared, but I’ll support you. I can ask Neito about the holy water.”

“Just… promise me?” he says, voice pitching high.

“Promise you?”

“That you won’t get involved. When the time comes, I mean. Helping me get a weapon is one thing, but I don’t want you in danger. If I do this right, it’ll never affect you.”

“I won’t get involved. I promise.”

“Good. I want—need you to stay safe.”

“I’ll be safe as long as I’m here with you.” You sigh into him, and his arm instinctively shifts to pull you just that little bit closer.

He’s silent. He’s thinking. You can see his lower lip jutting out, his eyes calculating beyond what anyone mortal could comprehend.

“You’re thinking.”

“It’s nothing important, [nickname].”

“You’re glowing,” you say, but that’s as far as you push it, the drowsing already beginning to reach you. It’s been a long, confusing day. The two of you stay there until you sleep, curled up on the floor with a cat and not another word between you.

~

[name] to Neito at 10:07 AM

[name]: You know how everything happened and I didn’t forgive you and all that?

[name]: Not to throw it in your face or anything. But I know something you can do to help make it up to me.

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[galaxy-omega]

I am unable to think properly after the spiderman movie. Didn't know there was gonna be a part two, halfway through I was like "Dang, how long was this movie again?" And I should've known.

Spoilers belowwww

On one hand I understand Miguel, he has worked so hard to keep the time lines all orderly out of not only fear of what happened to his and the one he took, but also, the fact it's never been done before. Out of infinite universes, seeing something like that happen is defeating. No other universe has ever seen it happen. He couldn't get it. I think it's a selfish part of him, that wants to say "if I can't have my happy story, and no one else can, Miles shouldn't be able to just say he can and take that risk." It's reasonable in his head. It's reasonable in mine. The logic of no one has succeeded so no one is allowed to try is faulted, but with as high of a risk as breaking down other spiderverses, it's an understandable one at that.

Something else I realized, is that the spider link thing, that takes you back to your universe, it doesn't erase all your memories of the spider verse. All of those villains have seen thousands of spiderpeople. Unless there's a process that occurs beforehand or something. But from what I saw, every villain you saw just gets zapped to their own universe with no questions asked or answered. That has to play a part in this eventually, especially with the Prowler from hopefully Tom Holland's universe coming about.

Also, In Gwen Stacy's universe, everything is like watercolored, and based on the feelings of each character the background gets distorted and altered. But when she goes to the spider verse, and a mix of other universes, it's back to Miles universe comic book dotted look. However in the case of the realistic universes or the Lego universe, the spot doesn't alter to be different just by being there. However, neither does Miles from what we've seen

Do you think having altered DNA from universe 42 makes Mile's more suspectable to transversing altered universe's? He's still obviously affected by the Glitch whenever he's in a universe he's not meant to be in.

How do all the spider people in the base not get suspicious? Thousands of spider people were climbing after miles in the chase scene and not one cop or officer, even citizen is like "WTF in the world war z of spiderman is this?"

Also, in the end scene with Universe 42's Miles Morales being the Prowler, do you think that Peter was still spiderman? Like, meant to be? Because if Miles could become dark and evil, you'd think like ever other universe, it would be Peter Parker as spiderman. Maybe miles will meet Peter in that universe. Do you think they'll bring up a old Peter actor to do the voice? Do you think we'll meet them at all?

As for hopes for Beyond the Spider verse, I hope that we get to see more Spiderpunk being spiderpunk, Hobie for life.

I hope we get to see Miles bring home his mom a cake with a nice little message on it.

I hope I get to see more Miguel O'hara cause BARk.

I think we will see other inhabitants of Universe 42's original cast. Like Doc Oc, Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, maybe even MJ. Maybe learn more of how 42's dad died. More of the spiderman voiced by Andy Samburg, what's not to love

Maybe more touching up on some Spider people who find out why Miles is running instead of everyone following blindly.

And I feel like the Spot was kinda just, a background noise at the end of the movie. It seems like he's going to go get more power, but when was the last you heard of him doing anything??? Like, previous to the first 40 minutes of the last bit of the movie? Where he at boy? Sounds sus to me. Having almost every spiderman away from base and trying to hunt down Miles Morales whilst trying to hunt down something that will take over the whole universe. I think they're underestimating the Spot again. Which will be a huge mistake

[bridgyrose]

Ruby gets hit on, which leaves her more confused than anything else. She sorts it out with Yang and Blake.

“Hey beautiful, are you lost?”

Ruby paused for a moment and looked up at Sun. “I go here, remember? Know exactly where everything’s at.” 

Sun sighed. “Yeah, I know that, but… look, doesnt matter. Want to grab dinner with me tonight? My treat.” 

“I already have plans with Weiss. Thanks though.” 

“Right…” Sun rubbed the back of his head and started to walk off. “Maybe later then?” 

“If I’m free!” Ruby smiled a bit, then sighed once Sun was out of sight and started to make her way back to the dorm. It had been strange that Sun and a few of the other students had started asking her about dinner plans, and as far as she was aware, nothing had changed to make people suddenly interested in her. She quickly walked into the dorm and sighed. “Yang, I’ve got a question for you.” 

“What’s up?” Yang asked from her bed. “Something on your mind?” 

Ruby nodded and sat down next to Yang. “Sun just asked me to dinner after trying to ask if I was lost.But its not just him. A few others have done it too. Emerald, Cardin, a couple of the first years…” 

Yang paused for a moment. “Well… I guess this was going to happen at some point…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“People are… you know… hitting on you.” Yang sat up and sighed. “You’re seventeen now and I’m sure a few people have noticed that you’re… single… and uh… Blake? Can you talk to Ruby about this?” 

Blake sighed and closed her book. “She’s your sister, why cant you talk about it?” 

“Because its awkward to have this talk.” Yang pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “And… now I sound like dad.” 

Blake rolled her eyes. “Ruby, you’re pretty and they’ve probably taken an interest in you and want to ask you out on a date.” 

Ruby paused for a moment. “I… dont understand.” 

“They’re hitting on you.” Yang leaned back against the wall again. “You know, flirting.” 

“I know what flirting is, but I dont know why they’d be interested in me.” Ruby sighed and pulled out her scroll. “I’m not interested in dating anyone.” 

Yang went quiet for a moment. “Not.. at all?” 

“Its never been anything I wanted to do.” 

Blake looked at Ruby curiously. “But you and Weiss go out all the time. And when you’re with Penny-” 

“They’re just friends.” Ruby smiled a bit as she read a text from Penny. “Weiss and I have started to get along over the last couple years and Penny is just really nice to be with. Weiss and Penny are dating and I’m happy to just be near them when I can be.” 

“Then… you’ve let people know you’re not interested in dating when they ask, right?” Yang asked. “Its better to let them down when you can.” 

Ruby hesitated and looked up from her scroll. “I… no…” She quickly got up and started to rush out of the dorm. “I’m running late! I’ll say something next time!” 

Yang sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “So that’s why everyone thinks she’s playing hard to get…” 

“Guess it never occurred to her,” Blake said between a few giggles as she moved a rose petal away from her. “Think she’ll actually be able to let anyone down?” 

“No, but I’ll try to back her up if she runs into trouble.” Yang lowered her hand and looked up at the top bunk. “Just as long as she doesnt do what I did, she’ll be fine.” 

“You mean accidentally leading Pyrrha and Jaune on?” 

“Something like that.”