#sometimes turning the last page of the story and closing the book is the best thing there can be

[hydrachea]

Yknow I was also thinking... if Neuvi were to ask Furina to become immortal again for his sake, she might actually say yes. Which is exactly WHY he'd never ask her to do so, because as much as he dreads her inevitable absence, he won't condemn her to that fate again

You got it. Because when she took on that curse half a millennium ago, it was also a request she agreed to. For the sake of all of Fontaine and not just the sake of Focalors, but it's still all too similar. Even if she said yes to him because she actually wants it then, who's to say she'll always want it? Who's to say the decades, the centuries won't weigh heavier and heavier as they pass, just like before? Who's to say she won't have to ask him to make her mortal again? And that would be even more painful than simply letting her go when she's meant to. So instead he'll treasure the time she has, that she's more than earned, and he'll do everything he can for her to treasure it too.

[makethatelevenrings]

Just Friends? // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? yes!

WARNINGS: none

Summary: Jason panicked and told Dick he was dating someone. Now he’s being forced to bring them to family dinner so he turns to his best friend, you, for help.

“You want me to…what?”

The couch dipped beside you and a heavy arm draped across the back. You nudged Jason with your elbow as he crowded up against you and he retaliated by swiping your book out of your hand. Since he didn’t particularly feel like dying again that day, he made sure to slide a bookmark between the pages before he shut it and tossed it onto his coffee table.

“I need you to be my date. To Sunday night dinner.” He said it so simply that you had half the mind to start concussion protocol in case he had landed helmet-first sometime during last night’s patrol. You raised an inquisitive eyebrow and he grinned.

“And this is in relation to…?”

“Dick was trying to set me up with this guy he met at a coffee shop and knowing Dick’s taste in people, I panicked and said I was already dating someone and he insisted that I bring them to meet the family. Because anyone who would date me, and I quote, is a godsend and/or in need of some serious help.”

You hummed and poked his cheek. “What if I’m both?”

“See? You’re perfect.”

You adjusted your seating on the couch so you could face him, one leg tucked under you and the other hanging off the edge of his worn couch. His large hand came down to rest on your thigh and he drew circles against your skin before squeezing gently. You slid one hand to the nape of his neck and played with his hair.

“How on earth are we going to convince your family, the greatest detectives in the world, that we’re a couple?”

You found yourself at Wayne Manor on Sunday with one very antsy vigilante. He kept asking if you remembered the story the two of you had generated and you were very close to throttling him. Two years of friendship and he still didn’t trust your ability to make shit up on the fly.

The heavy oak door swung open, revealing a short kid. He appraised you with a disinterested expression and then delicately sniffed.

“Todd, I see you have brought your lady friend for once.”

“Nice to see you too, Demon Spawn.” Jason ruffled his hair as he passed and the kid swatted his hand, a murderous glare flitting across his face.

“You must be Damian.” You held out your hand and he regarded it coolly before shaking it. “Jay told me you like animals. Remind me later and I’ll show you pictures of my cats.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded and stepped aside. “That is agreeable. Perhaps I can introduce you to Alfred as well.”

You mouthed something akin to isn’t that the butler? to Jason and he snickered as he sidled up to you and slid his hand along your waist. “Butler AND cat. Damian was inspired when he named him.”

“Hmmm, that’s cute. So, one sibling down. How many more to go?”

“Too many.” He leaned down to brush a kiss across your brow. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bird boy.”

Dinner went off without a hitch. Dick declared his love for you the second he met you, Tim was hesitant at first and fully assumed you were actually a mercenary hired by Jason to try and kill him again, Steph gleefully regaled you with stories of Jason slipping and falling off of roofs during patrol, and Cass had laughed when Jason had tried to steal some of Alfred’s famous mashed potatoes off of your plate and you proceeded to launch a fork at him.

Bruce, as expected, just sat quietly.

“Oh, miss, don’t worry about the plates,” Alfred exclaimed when you started stacking up Jason’s dirty dishes onto yours. “I have it handled.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal.”

“Quite alright, miss. It is my job after all.”

You smiled at the kindly butler. “Jason speaks very highly of you. Thank you for always being there for him.”

“Of course, miss. Master Todd has always been a great joy in my life.” You could see the unspoken sorrow that lingered there too and you briefly thought of the jagged, y-shaped scar that spanned the length of his torso. Jason slid his hand in yours and tugged you into another room.

“Movie night,” he explained. “National Treasure, of course.”

“A classic.” He maneuvered you to fall back onto the couch, leaving a space for him between you and Dick. “Ah, shit, let me go get you a blanket.”

“So, how long have you two been dating?” Dick asked when Jason disappeared.

“I’ve known him for two years but we’ve been dating for three months.” It was the agreed upon date you two had come up with last night when you laid on the couch together, a mess of tangled limbs. “He’s my best friend.”

“He better not be trying to replace me.” Dick pouted but Damian tossed a pillow at his head and let out another scoff. The youngest Robin had Alfred the cat in his lap and stroked the cat’s fur like some kind of evil villain in his lair.

“Don’t worry, Dickiebird. No one can replace you,” Jason drawled as he returned with a blanket. He draped it over your lap and then took a seat next to you. “Good?”

“Yeah, thanks Jase.” You knew you wouldn’t last through the movie. In fact, you probably fell asleep twenty minutes in. Your head fell against Jason’s shoulder and he carefully adjusted the blanket to cover your shoulders before running a hand over your hair.

“If you haven’t already,” Bruce said from behind him. “You should tell her you love her.”

Of course, Jason groused. Nothing got past Batman.

[lazuliquetzal]

Comedy Is A Lie: I’m Going To Explain The Joke And It’s Going To Make Everything Worse

A buddy asked me why I cut a good joke from one of my fics and my immediate answer was “it killed the tension,” which, upon reflection, is a pathetic answer that is mostly inaccurate and does not even come CLOSE to how much thought I put into comedy in my writing. So I guess I’m going to write this out and excise the demon of over-explanation. 

Part The First: What Is Funny

The biggest thing I try and keep in mind when writing editing comedy (and anything, really, but especially for comedy) is rhythm. Lots of parts to rhythm! Most obvious is the word-to-word/sentence-to-sentence flow. Timing is a really important aspect of verbal comedy, which is why performance is a good medium to use. You get to control the delivery of every sentence and the spaces in between. But when you’re writing, you have significantly less control over how a reader will interpret the rhythm: all you can do is word your sentences as best as you can and give them rhythm cues via punctuation. (This is why I use so many em dashes and commas… I'm working on that…)

The other part to rhythm is on a more macro scale. There are jokes that will roll along with the flow of a story. For me, these are jokes that don't deviate from the context of the scene too much. They connect one subject to the next, or they build off of each other (a ‘yes, and’ sequence, for example). Alternatively, the joke is delivered in a really understated way. Like passing off something objectively batshit as status quo. Either way, they flow!

Then there are jokes that will halt a scene in its tracks. These are jokes that recontextualize a situation, or make a particularly large leap from the current topic. Or, you've been setting up for this punchline for a while and this joke is payoff. Or the joke is just really, really funny. These are the kind of jokes where you need to give the characters (or the reader) a beat to process them. Sometimes. We’ll get back to that.

Part the Second: How Is Funny

So the point of all that rhythm stuff is that comedy has a flow! If every line is a witty one-liner, none of the lines are witty one-liners! If every joke is a one-hit-KO, you have left your reader unconscious. Basically, if you are constantly being #Funny, you become repetitive and predictable, and that is the death of tension (and humor is a tension-driven element). 

One way to think of comedic pacing is setup (AKA building tension) and punchline (AKA payoff). It’s a balancing act: the more you build up tension, the more satisfying the payoff is going to be, but if you spend too long building up, you start dragging. You want the reader to think, “I can’t wait for the punchline!” and not, “oh my god, PLEASE get to the punchline already.” 

Fun way to make the tension last longer is to put all those flow-y connector jokes along the way. The reader’s anticipating the Joke, so by giving them little jokes, it meets their expectations in little ways so that they don’t get too antsy.

Hey, what’s tension, you ask?

Part The Third: Why Is Funny

When I read a book, there are two emotions that get me to turn the page:

I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and I’m curious!

I know X is going to happen, and I’m anticipating it!

That’s tension. (Something something semantics—I’ve never taken a creative writing class, I don’t have a vocabulary) 

You can have the calmest, low-stakes fluffiest fic in the world but as long as your readers are experiencing either curiosity or anticipation, Congrats! You have tension! I, however, like putting readers on fast-paced rollercoasters, so that’s the lens through which I’m tackling this section, which is: how do I use jokes in a story structure context? What purpose does a clown serve?

I mentioned earlier that some jokes are bricks to the face: they demand to be processed. Most of the time, I put high-impact jokes in places where I need the story to “reset” in a way: force a beat so the reader can process both the joke and the plot. That’s using humor to release tension. Literally. Laughter relieves stress.

But! You can also use those jokes to make the tension even worse! If you drop a bomb and immediately press forward, no processing allowed, you get stressful comedy. You want to laugh, but also a bunch of other stuff is happening and it feels kind of rude to laugh, so you get stressed. Sometimes humor can undermine a climactic moment, but if you use the right joke in the right spot you create shrimp emotions. If you’ve read DotF ch8 you know what I’m talking about.

Jokes also just make for good plot points? A lot of jokes are built on recontextualization. Everybody loves a good twist/reversal/surprise in a plot. Just make a joke and re-frame it, and bam! You’ve plotted! (Everything I’ve ever written started off as a joke.)

Wait, What Was The Question?

Why did I cut the joke? It was a waste of a brick to the face. It was too referential, it required the audience to know/agree with something completely unrelated to the story, it didn’t build upon what I already established. It ruined the rhythm.

I need to emphasize that, despite all my Thoughts on this, the way I appraise my jokes is 80% vibe-based. I probably could have kept the joke, and it would have been totally fine. But I would know. I would know that my intended rhythm is broken… it would haunt me until the end of time…

[ashipiko]

“A Hundred and More Memories with You”

SUMMARY: A story in which Ace reminisces upon the many memories of him and Ashi.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

NOTES: <3 enjoy the rare Ashi writing

taglist: @taruruchi @deeva-arud @thelegendaryfluffypotato13 @midnightmah07 @cynthinesia

Ace would consider himself an Ashi expert. A lot of people would consider him one too, considering how often they hang out with each other.

And when he says it’s a lot, it’s a lot. Sure, of course, there’s Deuce and Grim too. They all go through their antics together, whether it be slaying in a singing and dancing competition or solving the latest issue Night Raven College has got to answer, which includes facing off against high school boys in life-risking duels, when they should really be in therapy. They all went through a lot together and somehow pulled through and survived all that nonsense too. Same class, same lunch table, same shenanigans for them all. And Ace would like to think of them as a dream quad, but here’s the thing.

Who got there just a little earlier than Juice did when Ashi was having trouble at Scarabia? Who did Ashi go to hug tightly when that happened? Who did Ashi stay behind with when VDC practice came by and everyone else left the room? Who turned out to feel so comfortable with him that she fell asleep on his shoulder? Who always bunks at Ramshackle and is always taken in by the prettiest girl at NRC?

That’s right. Not Grim, not Deuce, but Ace Trappola himself.

It might not be much, but Ace finds himself thinking that it’s those small things that no one else sees that places him a little higher than everyone else. With this, at least. He can confidently go up to anyone and go, “Hey! That’s my best friend you’re talking to, you know?” with a shit eating grin on his face, and no one would bat an eye. Because that’s just usual Ace behavior around Ashi.

Behind closed doors or not, he’s real committed to her.

…Maybe if you cut out their first meeting, actually. He thinks about it sometimes. How’d he fall for a goody two shoes like her?

Just some girl, straight out a coffin and fell onto the floor, during NRC’s opening ceremony. It was really funny! Doesn’t mean it made him think much about it. Like yeah, sure it's all-boys school, but it’s not anything crazy. What, none of you have seen a girl before? Do you guys not have moms?

Until Ace spots her again, her eyes crinkling in confusion at the sight of the Great Seven. Some dialogue is exchanged, and nothing is of note. She’s cute and pretty, sure, but it’s not like Ace came to NRC, an all-boy’s school might he reiterate, to get a girlfriend. After the last snooze fest he had? Pfft! Forget it! Not to mention she’s got no passion or fire within her. The little furball she’s got beside her is the one who carries that all for her, I guess.

“Maybe before you try gettin’ into the academy again, you should try a second crack at kindergarten? Hahaha!” That was the Ashi-Grim duo’s first taste of the iconic grin™.

“Grrrr… How dare you!”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta head to class~. Unlike these two janitor losers over here I’ve got places to be. I’ll leave you alone and let’cha get back to picking up some trash.”

Ace still remembers looking over at such a blank face. Just standing there like a statue, watching the situation play out. Nothing about this interaction would’ve hinted to what was in store for him.

“Hey, goody two shoes, maybe loosen up a little, how ‘bout it? You could benefit from some good old insults every once in a while. Take a page outta the weasel’s book here.” The redhead teases one last time before his departure, as he watches the brunette’s eyes lock with his.

“Hehe,” Ashi finally perks up, “I’ll think about it, Acey.” She chimes.

Ace is about to shoot something at her again, until a blaze of blue fire engulfs the area around them. All tension is lost and next thing he knows, he’s battling a literal animal and being sent to wash windows as punishment for the roughhousing. He didn’t sign up for this at all! But after some self reflection, the Ace now would roll his eyes and mutter, “Well, I GUESS it was kinda deserved.” But of course, that would only be because of Ashi. Despite how much of a “bad influence” he is on her, in her own way, his best friend had her own ways of helping Ace improve himself too. They balance eachother out well, and Ace smiles as he thinks this. To make himself feel better? Maybe.

Even still, in the beginning, Ace didn’t really think much about Ashi. He ditched the whole window cleaning ordeal for a reason, you know? And no matter how hard he tried, no amount of pushing her buttons resulted in any sort of snap back, no retorts at all. Bullying her more than Deuce didn’t work either— so he eventually gave up and changed targets. Which I guess was fine, since he had to focus on the stressful situation of the mines.

But at the end of the mage stone obtaining mission, when Ashi caught some time alone with him on the walk back as Deuce and Grim walked ahead, Ace figured that she just wanted a piece of him. He can’t blame her, honestly, so he decided to give her what she wanted and talked to her casually for a while. He thought one last time, adding some spice into the conversation, to joke around.

“You were reaaaally scared back in that dark and spooky house, weren’tcha?” Ace teases, giving Ashi that signature grin once again, “The cave too, to boot. What are you, actually scared of the dark or something?”

He catches Ashi’s attention, and she looks at him, offended, “Aaand? I totally did it still, you know! Give credit where credit’s due, Acey!”

“Still means you’re a baby.”

“Hmph.” Ashi huffs in response, pouting a little, “…At least I manned up and made a plan instead of arguing like an idiot with the others.”

An actual comeback? For real? Ace didn’t think she had it in her!

The ginger’s lips curl up into an even bigger grin as he pokes the bear a little more, “And who did the execution, huh? Without me, you wouldn’t have even gotten to go through with your plan!”

“I could say that about Deucey. He definitely deserves more credit than you do anyway.”

“Ha! As if. Juice over here barely did anything.”

“Either way, neither of you would’ve come out of this successfully without me,” Ashi sighs, fed up with Ace’s behavior, “What’s your brawn worth if you don’t think about how to use it?”

“Offense over defense, baby!”

“Exactly why you would’ve failed without me!” Ashi snaps at him, immediately realizing how much she’s allowed Ace to wind her up right after. She internally scolds herself for acting out, and before Ace can say anything else, she breaks eye contact and changes topics.

Noticing how her body stiffens and her words seem less… slangy than usual, Ace can’t help but ponder about this. This whole entire time, not a single complaint has come out of her lips. Her voice was constantly sing songy throughout the entire nerve-wracking situation, but the way that it climbed up and became more strict and stern at this moment was a complete curveball. A breaking point, perhaps? Not to mention, the sudden way her body closes up and acts like it resets? It’s like she’s being corrected. A light goes off in the instigator’s head.

Huh, Ace thinks. Maybe goody two shoes here isn’t exactly what she’s living up to be.

He barely knows how he got here himself. Something about Ace’s first taste of something outside of Ashi’s whole “peppy good girl” deal was enough of an incentive to pester her more, and more, and more and more and more, only in attempts to see more of that special side of her. And somehow, through some sort of divine intervention, he got closer than anyone could’ve imagined for the guy who’s known for pissing people off.

Closer than anyone else she’s met in Twisted Wonderland has gotten, and based on how she words it, closer than anyone in her home world, even. The fact makes Ace feel bad, but at the same time he can’t help but feel kind of proud. Hell, he doesn’t even understand how people don’t like the real her. The whole good girl act is polite and sweet, sure, but compared to how dynamic and fun the hidden side of her is… Why would you ever think that the shallow 2D side is better than the in-depth 3D side in this scenario?!

If he ever gets there, Ace pledges to beat the hell out of every person who made Ashi think this in her home world. You can count on it.

From there on out, he had to keep his curiosity at a minimum. Though he wanted to keep pushing, he cared for her so much that he didn’t wanna cross her boundaries too far. So he kept it as teases and banters for the time being, because that’s how you keep it light and fun. Such as having sleepovers, just the two of them at Ramshackle.

To say the least, Ace got a little too comfy.

At some point, Ashi would offer him an old sweatshirt she never wears, too oversized for her but perfectly fitting for Ace during the cold nights he would want to visit. At some point, Ace had a secret knock he used at her window after the incident where he had only scared her instead of delightfully surprising her. At some point, Ashi and Ace giggling the night away became the norm for them.

Simple? Yeah, Ace had to admit, it’s just talking the night away with a friend till you both pass out, but it has its charm. Just as they showcase it in movies, the two best friends always hang out under the covers, tell scary stories and laugh excessively due to being way too sleep deprived, having a special bond that no one else would understand, just because they understood each other that well.

Something so simple, and yet something Ashi never got a taste of before.

She never got that close.

So, Ace, being the great friend he is and being the bearer of knowing Ashi’s history of, well, not being too involved in the usual teen activities, he would take it upon himself to go and make a dream come true. His mind begins to wander off way back when, before any of these bestie advancements were a thing. When Ace wouldn’t come out of nowhere, instead making his way through the door, like a normal person. And what better place to propose the idea of Ashi’s very first sleepover than the cafeteria?

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a sleepover. Seriously, Ash? The heck kinda life did you live?” Ace jokes, giving her the most bewildered look as they eat their lunch.

“Eh…” Ashi mumbles about, thinking about it as she takes a bite of her sandwich, “Kinda just the way the cards played out? Dunno, my mom didn’t really get the whole dealio.” Shrugging as if it’s nothing, she looks over at Grim chowing down his food to end the current topic.

Ace looks at her as she finishes talking, and he feels like her smile’s lacking more than it usually does.

“Then why don’t you experience it while you’ve got the right cards?” He shoots back, pulling Ashi back into the conversation, “You know who’s not here? Your mom.” He chuckles a little at his little joke, “Seriously though, take this whole away-from-your-family situation to your advantage!”

“Ace has a point, actually,” Deuce joins the conversation, “For once we agree on something. You’re already in a magic world, what’s one more abnormal thing to experience?”

Ashi blinks a couple times at the pair, before putting her finger to her chin and letting out a hum, “I guess so… Who do I invite, though? Plus, there’s Grimmy I gotta worry about too. This guy’s a drama queen…”

“I need my beauty sleep!” Grim scowls, before getting right back to his tuna. Ace rolls his eyes before he leans across the table, towards Ashi.

“Invite me, duh! Who else is your bestie, Ash?”

She smiles at his attitude, “Mr. Trappola, huuuh?” The brunette takes a comedic amount of time to think about it, “All his complaining miiight keep me up at night… Me and Grim are in the same boat when it comes to the sleep department too~.”

Deuce chuckles, “He really doesn’t shut up. Actually, a sleepover with all of us would be fun, but I have studying to do…”

Grim adds on, “Well I don’t wanna see an ugly face when I wake up!”

Tired of the bashing from the rest of the group, Ace loudly groans, “Then why don’t you take your ugly mug to me and Juice’s dorm while me and Ashi have a sleepover! Problem solved!”

It takes one glance from Deuce for Ace to get the message, “You know, you just sound like you just wanna get alone time with Ashi.”

The redhead glares back, “As if! I just wanna have a sleepover!”

…Only to add a solemn “Back me up, would you?” to it. Deuce gets it and helps him out.

“It would help me actually, Ashi. Take him away from me so I don’t have to worry about getting off track. And Grim can’t be that bad of a roommate, right? He’s just a cat. If he slept the whole time, I think it’d be relaxing if anything.” Deuce adds on, slowly egging on Ashi to decide.

“If you feed me enough tuna!”

The prefect ponders for a second, as her fingers tap once, twice on her chin, “I mean I guess… It’s not like it’s the first time Acey’s stayed over.” Ace pumps his fist in the air, and the other two think he’s being a little too obvious.

“Win! This time, it’ll totally be a proper sleepover. Call me the sleepover master, even! Get ready to not get a wink of sleep tonight, Ash!”

Ashi giggles in response before the bell rings and everyone scatters once again.

Later that night, Ace appears at the door of Ramshackle once he gets word that Grim has taken his place as Deuce’s roommate. He knows that Ashi’s scared of being alone in the dark, so of course he rushes over as fast as he can. Not because he wants to. It’s just what a decent person would do. It’s nothing to give him a weird look about. Right?

A few knocks and he’s let inside, and it’s not like anything has changed much. The dorm is the same old dusty and dainty place it’s always been, except this time he’ll be spending his time in an actual bed. No, it’s not because he’s asked all those previous times that Ashi finally caved in and let him get what he wants. It’s because now they’re just close enough that it’s chill. There’s no other reasoning further than that. Right?

Because he and Ashi are just best friends. He’s not here because he wants to have alone time with her! Ace just wants to see his best friend happy, able to experience all the things she hasn’t. Because that’s what good friends do.

…Right?

Okay, maybe Ace did get a little sidetracked from his main mission now that he thinks about it. The whole idea of being alone with Ashi planted a seed in his head, he admits it, but how could you blame him, honestly? None of that means that he didn’t get what he originally wanted, though. Two birds with one stone! He wins either way!

Still, it’s a night filled to the brim with snarky comments and blissful laughter, and while certain housewardens wouldn’t allow staying up this late, Ace decides that the lack of sleep is worth it. A sleepy Ashi is always cute, cuter than usual, and it’s an evening of rare sights. They’re both laying down all across the bed, staring at the blank ceilings and watching the cobwebs the prefect hates sway with the breeze of the bedroom. It’s calm, and neither of them are thinking about what they’re saying. The norm for one and an uncommon occurrence for the other.

“So how’d your first sleepover go?” Ace mutters, tiredness hitting them both. It’s dim within the room, and it’s thanks to Ashi’s nightlight that they can even take in this atmosphere at all.

“It was pretty hypesies.” Ashi replies back, and it’s a simple exchange. ‘Till she speaks up again after a while, and Ace is surprised at her different tone of voice.

“…Thanks, Acey.”

“Eh? Sounded pretty serious there, Ash.”

“That’s ‘cause I am!”

Ace faintly laughs, “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

“Really though. I’m pretty sure you’re not as dumb as you look, so you probably caught on already,” Ace’s eyebrows suddenly jump in surprise at the sudden change in character, and Ashi proceeds, “I’m not really used to being this buddy buddy with people, even chicks— And like, it just means a lot to me that you even volunteered to do this with me in the first place. It makes me real happies to call you my bestie, you know?

I like that you’re honest. It makes me feel comfies. I can kinda be more like myself, somethin’ like that? And…” her voice quiets down before she says anything else. Which is somehow both a good and bad thing for Ace.

They both soak in the moment, and Ace’s cheeks feel like they’re burning up just a little. This is probably the most genuine reaction he’s gotten out of her— But at the same time, it’s completely unfair how she’s simultaneously making this seem so casual and yet so impactful.

His train of thought quickly fades away as a small, weak laugh from Ashi breaks through, “Sorries, I got too serious there. You might as well call me Riddle or something at this point,” she murmurs, her voice not quite carrying the energy she intended, “Probs ‘cause it’s past my bedtime.”

Ace hears her sit up a little, and he still stares at the ceiling blankly as he hears the crinkles and turning of the blankets along the bed. His next words practically come out of thin air, cheeks still feeling warm.

“You really should talk more, Ashi.”

The noises he hears suddenly pause, and after a quaint moment of silence, he hears a relieved exhale from the other side of the bed.

“…Thanks, Acey.”

It’s then that Ace wonders if it’s not just his cheeks that are hotter than usual at that moment.

From there on out, Ace feels both better and worse about himself. Because, man, his chest begins to feel kinda weird when he sees her. He swears she’s gotten prettier somehow, but at the same time, he also feels proud that he’s Ashi’s special person— she basically said it herself, y’know? Part of him wonders if this is the farthest he’s gonna get. Both as a friend and, well, maybe more.

So he waits days on end, they have their sleepovers more and more often, and hell, they get to a point where they have sleepovers every day. Ah yeah, the VDC days, amirite?

In his head, Ace thinks that this “era” of “AshAce” (name made by him, proof is in his alchemy notebook) is an era in which their relationship deepened even further.

There’s multiple points and examples he could give, and he’d tell you about ‘em and brag all day if he could. But the most vivid memory for Ace, apart from the one he forcibly tried to forget out of embarrassment, has gotta be when he really saw Ashi speak her mind.

He remembers the rain pittering and pattering outside when he went to go and get a drink. It was a cool night, after everyone was done and exhausted from practice, so he figured the one who’s all “I need my beauty sleep!”, especially, was asleep. Well, until he saw a figure outside and flipped the freak out— Alas, it was just Ashi, but he found it to be pretty out of character for her. She’s notorious for being horrible at dressing herself for the cold, and he’s sure Vil would bark her head off if she got sick before their performance. Ace’s neck still aches in memory of all the times he’s been collared, and he knows that pain of being yelled at by a housewarden all too well. Knowing Ashi? She wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of discipline. So why’s she out there in the first place?

He makes his way outside to investigate, and knocks a couple times on the doorframe, same pattern as he would when stepping through her window. Ashi’s frame jumps in surprise, and she quickly turns around, body stiff and drops of rain across her skin.

“Oh, it’s just you, Acey.”

“You aren’t looking too hot. What’re you even doing out here?”

“Ah…” Her tone of voice trails off, and ends off with a sneeze. Not a good sign.

The boy lets out a somewhat disappointed sigh as he sits down next to her, aware of the sketchbook on the porch as she keeps to herself. Based on the way there’s endless scribbles and several notes floating around the halfway finished sketches, contrasting against the blissful, one-take doodles in class, Ace puts the pieces together and concludes that maybe he’ll stay quiet just this once, the best he can. To prevent himself from getting any more tuckered out, and to prevent Ashi clamming up again.

He doesn’t like oysters, and clams sure aren’t that different in this scenario.

Now that he’s got a better look at her though, Ashi doesn’t seem to be very warm. The rainy ambience gave everything a downer mood, and her lack of a dry jacket is concerning. Her cheeks are wet too; but Ace can’t tell if that’s a byproduct of the weather or her own emotions.

“You don’t wanna get sick, do you? Vil’s never gonna let you hear the end of it.” Ace mutters, as he takes his own NRC blazer and drapes it across Ashi’s shoulders. She gives a faint smile, one saying thanks, before it fades away once again.

“You know me~. Not good with cold weather.”

“You’re even worse with discipline.”

“Fairs.” Ashi sighs, her voice quavering a little. The vibes in the air aren’t it, as Ashi would usually say, and I guess that’s something to apologize for for her.

“Sorry,” she says. It’s a quick mutter, but Ace hears it. And he hears her act unravel further and further, feeling his own heart drop and drop.

Hesitant, she continues, “I’m— I think I’m too tired to keep anything up at this point. There’s been so many issues going on and with managing and performing in VDC and feeling homesick I can’t even look anyone in the face right now. I’m so worried that my smile doesn’t live up to what it usually does, and I’m worried that everyone’s gonna notice and it’s all gonna go to ruins and the whole process of learning the dance and song is gonna get so— so… I don’t know!

I wanna perform. I want to learn from the others, but I don’t want to show them an Ashi that they’ll be annoyed with or make them think she isn’t what she’s lived up to be. I just can’t muster up the courage to push the act, so I end up spiraling down and isolating myself which is so not it for a cooperative project like this. Even if I do show up, the heck are the odds that they’ll be satisfied with such a half-assed act. It’s so hard to keep up.”

And now I’m showing you all of this stuff that I don’t want you to see and it’s embarrassing. It’s… I’m sorry, Ace. I’m sorry.”

Her confession finally comes to an end, and Ashi falls into silence. Meanwhile, Ace’s response is said so quickly— It doesn’t even seem like he’s keeping up with his own words.

“Ashi, seriously, you know I really don’t care, right?”

“…Huh?”

“Actually. I don’t care at all. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I don’t give a care in the world if you’re crying on my shoulder or laughing and doodling on my paper in class,” a breathy laugh follows suit, “Great Seven, honestly, when are you gonna realize that?”

The way Ace’s words just fall out of his mouth make him feel like he’s being too honest and brash again, and he doesn’t want to hurt Ashi in any way. He stops himself for a second before looking at the brunette’s expression, delicate and yet invested. It’s not anything ordinary, and maybe someone would find it weird coming from her. But if anything, Ace is an honest man. Both of them know this.

“You… Man. You know how I said you should talk more? That still holds up. You should think less, if anything. You overthink all these things, and you’re so people pleaser about it. Like— C’mon! You know I’ve got your back. You don’t have to be so cautious and scared of things.”

Ashi can barely process his words.

“Just know that I…”

Ace pauses.

“I… care for you. A lot.”

The silence that follows after is awkward, sure. Two frozen figures under the thin overhead of Ramshackle dorm, and Ace feels like he’s fumbled his words. The one time he hesitates.

Yet, one more raindrop falls to the floor, breaking the silence. And after that, one, two, three follow pursuit.

She doesn’t say anything, and yet Ace hears so much. Offering her his shoulder, they spend just a while longer together, soaking in the moment. Ace doesn’t mind the tears soaking into his clothing. Because if it results in Ashi’s true, sunny smile shining his way, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

Of course, not without some lighthearted teasing.

It’s a bittersweet memory, Ace notes as he reminisces. A memory of many, but definitely one of the highlights, he thinks. Like he said, a pretty core point in their relationship, and an eye opener as to how Ashi works.

…He could even say it helped soothe his own insecurities too.

Ace would consider himself brash, assertive, and I guess in some cases, insensitive of other’s feelings. Other people think that too. It’s part of who he is, the troublemaking prankster he is. It’s a double edged sword. Sometimes people complain about your attitude and think you’re a dick, or sometimes people actually think you’re doing something good on a rare occasion.

While this kind of attitude could totally get you out of sticky scenarios, sometimes Ace’s heart hurts at the way people climb up before him. He did it to himself, really— I mean, he’s gained a reputation and at an expense, he just so happened to lose the chance of hearing some praise. The troublemaker gets something done? At least he’s actually done something. The good guy does it? Everyone’s cheering him on.

It stings a little.

It’s just the way he is, he knows it. He tells himself this again and again. He’s proud of it, but it’s hard to feel like he’s really accomplished something when people treat him the way they do. When he feels like he’s falling behind, all he can do is give snarky remarks to the people above him. He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t gain anything.

But the rainy clouds fade away when Ashi’s near him, able to put all her trust in his care and see him as something better than a guy who’ll mess things up. She sees him as her knight in shining armor, and Ace’s heart heals.

To be someone people want to be around, and to have people see you for your true self without berating you because of it.

It’s something they both want. Something they both have, now that they’re together. Ace doesn’t wanna let that go. Not for one second.

These memories and thoughts with the girl he really loves are what Ace has to repeat in his mind, over and over and over again in this moment. Because when he’s standing in their little Heartslabyul hideout, the mood perfect and warm just like those paintings Ashi gushes about, voice clear and his back straight, he needs all the evidence he has.

He’s ready to take a shot at making this last forever.

Though, despite how determined he is, it’s not like he’s acting like his palms aren’t insanely sweaty right now. It’s lowkey embarrassing at how riled up he is about this.

Even in his basketball matches, he isn’t this nervous. But maybe it’s ‘cause Ashi isn’t cheering him on now that he’s really feeling the pressure? His thoughts wander and wander… couldn’t she get here sooner?

Jeez, how do you talk to girls again?

Ace has had a girlfriend before. He knows how to treat girls, but this opportunity is so much more stressful. Ashi’s not just a shot at a possible girlfriend for fun. He’s surprised himself if he’s being real about it, that he’s even this serious about them.

He didn’t intend for it to end up this way. To be friends, to best friends, to falling for one another and now, risking it all away in attempts to, what, kiss her? I guess it would be worth it. Wait— maybe he shouldn’t get too cocky about it. But doesn’t Ashi love him because he’s cocky? Wait a minute! Who said she even liked him like that in the first place?!

The redhead groans a little as he throws his head back. His last get-a-girl operation compared to this is insane. From boring stupid love to serious I-love-you-for-real love? Did Ashi really impact him this badly? Did her hopeless romantic disease spread to him too?! At this point, Ace doesn’t know if the break they spent apart while Ashi was off fighting Idia helped him calm down his feelings or make them more prominent.

He wallows in his thoughts a little longer, the doubt slowly consuming him, before a small noise of footsteps make their way towards him, causing him to straighten up. A patch of leaves open up, and Ashi waves through, catching Ace with somewhat of a goofy smile on his face.

Gosh, she really is pretty.

The nervous boy stands and waits for her to make her way towards him, and Ashi looks around the garden. Someone spruced it up, for sure. Starting out as just a simple hideout for Ace when he tried stalling from getting collared by Riddle, and turning into a hangout space for the two of them, Ashi never would’ve thought she’d see it in its full glory like this. Some cute fairy lights, treats on the small table, and even considering her fear of the dark, something about the atmosphere here still makes her feel delighted. It’s nice, but it obviously gives the suspicion that something’s gonna happen.

While she’s stuck enjoying the scenery, Ace can’t help but feel his smile getting even goofier as he watches her. The smile that shines through as she looks over at him tells Ace that he’s gotten successful with the first part.

“Ahaha. Acey, everything’s so bedazzled. What’s happening?” Ashi jokes, her voice chiming through the nighttime breeze. The redhead chuckles a little, before stepping another step closer.

“Just got something to tell you. It’s not a bad joke this time, I swear,” Ace comments, trying to keep the mood light, “So I tried getting the vibes to translate through this and that. Artsy, right? You proud?” He gives a snarky smile, gaining a laugh from the brunette.

“Yeah yeah~. So what is it?” Ashi tilts her head, awaiting for the big reveal. Ace gulps, before going on ahead. Just like he planned.

“Listen, I know that we haven’t really gotten time to spend with eachother since the end of VDC, but the whole break while you were gone… It got me to think about some stuff.” He starts off, focusing on the way Ashi’s expression changes along the way, “It made me really think of all the stuff we’ve been through, together, and I couldn’t help but keep thinking about how close we’ve gotten since you got here.

And NRC is filled to the brim with guys. Heck, some of them even have crushes on you. But…” Ace exhales, his heartbeat quickening as he starts to forget his lines. But in proper Trappola fashion, he bounces back and decides to go with his gut.

Brows furrowed as he clasps Ashi’s hands in his and pulls it to his chest, he spills his heart out to her.

“But none of those guys, and I mean none of them deserve you! You deserve someone you can laugh and cry with. Someone who won’t hate on you for showing something a little weaker than a big grin. Like me.

No matter what, even if we ever butt heads, you know I’ll always set it straight. Heck— I don’t even know how much time you have left in Twisted Wonderland— and I don’t know how much time we have left together. But none of that matters.

Because, Ashi— I love you.

I love you and I want to spend every single second with you. As something more than friends. Something where I can give you all the love you deserve, and you don’t have to be scared.

So please, just answer me.

Will you let me?”

The stars shine in Ashi’s eyes as she processes Ace’s words, and he feels his heart beating out of his chest. The tension is insane, and he can’t do anything but watch her for any sign of a reaction.

Stars, dancing in her eyes as they tear up and shine, her cheeks being painted a rosy red, and her shining smile falling into a soft one.

“Ace…”

“I love you, Ash.”

She laughs as her face faces downwards, hair falling over her eyes, “You idiot…” she mutters, before looking Ace in the eyes once again.

“I love you too. A lot.” Ashi confesses back, voice choking up a little as she laughs again. Again and again. It’s music to Ace’s ears, and he can't help but find himself laughing along as he picks her up and hugs her like it was her last. The two simmer in their emotions for a while, tears and jolly laughter transforming the atmosphere into a lovely and bright scene.

This is another memory to mark down, Ace subconsciously thinks as he holds Ashi in his arms, one to look back on again and again.

And he can’t wait to make even more memories from here on out.

[moon-tells-stories]

Heart Problems~

Connor Stoll x gn reader

Connor is completely in love with you, too bad you’re trying to set him up with someone else.

Part 2 Dear Diary, I’m an idiot

~~

Connor knew he had a problem.

He liked to consider himself a pretty self aware person: he knew he was a liar, he knew he could be a bit of an asshole, he knew he would sometimes come off as a bit cold, he knew he was too vindictive, he knew not everyone liked his pranks and now…. he knew he absolutely and completely had a problem.

The problem in question?

He was in love with his best friend.

Now, someone might say “ok, Connor, big deal, everyone gets crushes sometimes”.

But this wasn’t just a simple crush.

People with a crush don’t feel their hearts implode in their chests when they see the person they like smile.

People with a crush absolutely do not feel every single cell in their body beg to see the person they like every time they’re not there.

People with a crush would feel naturally rejected and maybe a bit sad if the person they liked did not return their feelings.

But as much as it would have probably killed him from inside out, Connor just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

He couldn’t risk confessing to you and ruin your friendship. It was too important, you were too important.

The price just wasn’t worth the risk, he was happy just being your friend, being close to you was enough, seeing you smile at him even if it was platonic was enough, laughing and joking around with you was enough.

(He felt like smashing his head against a wall repeatedly when he remembered that you would never know how much he truly loved you but he pushed the thought down)

After all if there was one thing Connor Stoll was truly good at that was lying.

~~

The light cascading between the leaves of the tree the two of you were laying against would sometimes fall into your eyes and Connor would feel his heart beat out of his chest.

You were talking about the recent book you had read.

You had always loved reading, your dyslexia made it a bit difficult but when you arrived at camp Chiron taught you how to turn your books into ancient greek texts which helped a lot.

Connor had never really been a fan of reading, partly because of his dyslexia, that every demigod had, but also because he simply found it- boring. He didn’t like staying put and reading required staying still and concentrating, both things he wasn’t very good at.

However he liked listening to you ramble on and on about your favourite books, you could talk about them for hours on end and he would listen to your voice on repeat forever if he could.

(Gods, he was so smitten it was honestly pathetic)

But seeing you so exited about sharing your favourite story with him, he realised that he absolutely did not care about how probably pathetic he was.

“And then! the villain turns out to be….” you trail off for a bit of suspence and he smiles softly.

(he definitely looks like an absolute fool)

“His brother!” you say exited, turning to the book and holding up the page where the protagonist gets betrayed.

Connor smiles surprised “no way, that’s gotta sting-” he says while reading the page you were gesturing to.

(he doesn’t think about how that sound so painfully familiar)

“I know!” you say a mix between excited and frustrated “he was my favourite character too” you groan and Connor laughs “ouch- why do your favourite characters always either die or turn out to be the villain?” he jokes, remembering how in the book you told him about last month, your favourite character sacrificed herself and died.

You throw your head back “i must be cursed- it’s not fair!” you laugh.

(connor wants to record the sound and listen to it forever-)

He grimaces internally at that thought, that wasn’t creepy, right???

He takes your book in his hands, trying to play it cool, trying to pretend that his heart did not flutter at the sound of your laugh “sure, buttercup, i’m sure a god decided to curse every single character you like” he teases you.

You laugh (his heart did not skip a beat- liar) and playfully punch his shoulder at the nickname.

Some voices come from the archery pitch nearby, a few kids of the Apollo cabin joke and laugh loudly among themselves, you glance at them before turning to him with a small smile.

(he pretends not to notice that the smile is not entirely genuine)

“Did you meet the new Apollo kid?” you ask him with a sort of teasing smile that he does not comprehend.

“You mean Remy?” he asks slightly confused, as the counsellor of the Hermes cabin he met lots of new campers that came and went, Remy had arrived last week, they stayed in cabin 11 for two days before getting claimed by Apollo, he wasn’t sure why you were suddenly bringing them up.

“Yeah” you nod, the weird teasing smile still on you lips, “aren’t they cute?” you ask playfully.

Connor is really really not sure what he should answer, it’s not that he doesn’t agree because objectively speaking Remy was indeed attractive, he just never really thought about it and all of this seemed extremely random.

“I guess” is best he comes up with, you laugh slightly “you guess?” you ask between laughs “what kind of answer is that?”.

Connor rolls his eyes and pushes your shoulder playfully “shut up, i just don’t understand this sudden interest in Remy” he tells you.

You shrug, smirking at him (his stupid heart should just explode with how many time it flutters or skips a beat).

You nudge him with your elbow playfully “a little birdie told me that Remy has a crush on you” you wink.

oh.

ohh.

For a second his brain malfunctions… were you- were you trying to set him up with someone?!??!

The worst thing about all of this is that- you look so casual about it. It shouldn’t hurt this much, he knows you don’t feel the same, this isn’t a surprise, he already knew- he already made peace with this fact.

(or at least he should have already made peace with this fact)

Connor swallows his hurt and tries not to think about the way he feels as if a knife had been thrown straight into his heart.

“Really?” he tells you as absentmindedly as he can.

Thankfully he’s a good liar and you don’t notice, you nod happily “yess, and if you want- you can meet them after the campfire near the Apollo cabin” you say smugly.

(the imaginary knife twists painfully in his chest)

Connor would really like to give you a big genuine smile, just make you happy since you seem so exited about this, however the best thing he can muster is a small smile and “i’ll think about it.”

The conversation ends there, you go back to reading your book with a satisfied smile and Connor goes back to dying internally.

He shouldn’t feel this dejected, but he really can’t help it, he’s not sure what’s worst about this story.

The irony that Remy asked the person he’s in love with to set them up together, or the fact that you actually accepted and tried.

He’s not angry at Remy, the new demigod has no fault, and Connor doesn’t blame them or resent them for shooting their shot with him.

(they’ve got way more courage than him, he’s such a coward)

The wind blows softly in his curls and as he looks at you, his heart flutters once more.

The knife twists deeper and Connor curses himself and his stupid stupid heart, Aphrodite, Eros and every other love deity he knows.

But as you smile to yourself while reading a particularly interesting passage in your book he decides that this pain is not so bad.

~~

[chemical-killjoy]

Can you do Coffee Shop AU x Accidental kiss

With Y/N And Gerard Way?

Of course!! Sorry it took so long! It's been a hell of a month lol

Kisses and Coffee

Gerard x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Gerard and Y/N meet in a coffee shop, become friends and more after an accidental kiss

You had been coming to your favourite coffee shop for the last decade, and upon learning that it closed, you were on the hunt for a new one. This devastating news left you wandering around town for a while until you saw a cute little cafe you had never been too before. And there was something about it that just felt right.

You took a small two-person table by the window in the corner of the cafe and looked around. It shop was a light blue-grey with paintings of flowers and posters decorating the walls. The air smelt of coffee, toast and biscuits. There was a hum of noise as the cafe was, while small, pretty full, and it felt like a warm hug.

Once you saw the menu, you were sold. This had to be your new coffee place, I mean, they sold churros!! And ham and cheese croissants! In the same place? Insane in the best way. You ordered a mocha and muffin and were snuggled up with a book while waiting when a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Wow, you're early for a change!” The voice that greeted you was warm, but unfamiliar. You turned around to face the stranger, and the poor man's face dropped.

“I'm so sorry, you are not the person I thought you were,” he said slowly, standing awkwardly and putting his hands in his pockets.

“It's OK, happens all the time,” you lied, giving the man a small smile to put him at ease. He had kind eyes and smile, with an air about him that just made you feel comfort able. There was something about him that soothed you, despite the random introduction.

The man sat down at a table in the opposite corner, and as your food and coffee arrived, he waited for a person that never showed.

You were so engrossed in your book, that when you finished the last few pages, your coffee (what was left of it) was cold, and your muffin barely touched. You put the book down and took a minute to return to reality. You looked up to see the man from earlier checking his watch once again, sighing and looking down at the table. You knew that look well.

You walked over before you could stop yourself.

“Hi,” you started, unsure of yourself. “Mind if I join you?”

“Ah, sure! Doesn't seem like she's coming anyway.” The man replied.

“I thought I recognised that look. I'm sorry,” you said, looking away. “Hey, my name's Y/N.”

“Gerard. Nice to meet you.” Gerard held out a hand, which you took softly. There was a warmth to it that mad you smile.

You sat down, thinking of how to start A Conversation. How do people do that again? Luckily Gerard swooped in to end the awkward silence.

“What book are you reading? You seemed super engrossed in it?”

“Yeah? Sometimes I get carried away when I read, it's like I'm not really on Earth and I'm in the book, watching like a fly on the wall,” you laughed, “Sometimes I get so invested, I make faces and gasp out loud without realising I'm doing it.”

Gerard giggled. “You know you've got a good book on your hands when that happens. So what kind of stories are you into?” He asked, and you launched into a long and comfortable conversation, as though you'd both known each other for centuries.

It had been a few months since you first met, but you and Gerard would meet up every week, having your own miniature book club that eventually turned into exchanging CDs and long heart to hearts til the coffee shops closed and the pubs became quiet.

Over time you struggled to keep your feelings or the man at bay. He was kind and cuddly, but strong and brave, and you just admired him so much. It was hard to stay friends when you watched him talk and focused more on his lips than the words he was speaking.

And though you didn't know it, Gerard got more and more comfortable with you, and found himself falling as well. The small gestures became touches, a soft brush of the hand when passing you something, leaning his head on your shoulder in a booth when you're tired, hugs that last just a moment longer than intended, and the occasional kiss on the cheek when it had been a while. You were scared to think that maybe it was only in your mind that his lips lingered for a breath longer than a friend.

It was a cool night and you and Gerard were meeting up at a pub, as you'd been busy with work all day but you both needed some time away from it all, happily finding refuge in each other.

The pub was a warm and vibrant atmosphere, people laughing, mugs clinking, and staff weaving through the crowd, remarkably spilling nothing. You struggled to find Gerard in the crowd, but suddenly there was a hand on the small of your back. You turned around and the scowl on your face shifted to a smile.

“Gee! How are you!” You cried giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek... or what you intended to be a kiss on the cheek. Gerard had the same idea, and you both went in the same direction. Your lips collided in a short and quick peck that sent electricity through both of you, pulling away with wide eyes.

Gerard laughed. “Well, I'm good now,” he said with a flirting smirk, and you turned your head and blushed.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-” you started, flustered.

“No no it's fine, I'm sorry, hey, how about we grab a seat?” Gerard stopped you.

You spent a few hours happily munching on hot chips and a burger, and sipping a cider while you chatted about anything and everything you could possibly think of, Gerard talking your ear off equally. By the time your food was gone and your drinks disappeared, the pub was nearly empty and a comfortable quiet came over you both.

Gerard looked at you.

“You know, you had nothing to apologise for, right?” Gerard asked, out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“When we kissed. I know it was an accident and all but you didn't need to apologise. I actually, um, I didn't mind it. I wouldn't mind it again.”

You looked away, cheeks heating up fast. When you didn't answer fast enough, Gerard tried to backtrack.

“'M sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, you know what, just forget I said it, it didn't happen and doesn't really matter anyway, I me-”

“Gee.” Was all you had to say to silence him.

You looked up at him with the Y/E/C eyes that he adored with all his heart. Even if your lips never touched his again, he decided he'd be content to just have your eyes stay on his for a few more moments. But you took him by surprise, putting you hand on his and then kissing his cheek. When you pulled away, you shyly bit your lip.

Gerard leant forward slowly, and kissed the skin where your cheek meets your lips, desperate to prove his point, lost for words, and terrified to scare you off. His lips stayed on your skin for a moment longer and you felt his breath on your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. You pressed your forehead against his, eyes closed, noses rubbing for a moment, before you both leaned in and kissed. It was magic. Not the extreme, passionate, thrilling heat. No. But soft. Calm. Warm. Like the safety coming home from a storm. The contentment of a good book. The joy and comfort of your favourite coffee shop.

The kiss ended and you both barely pulled away, soft smiles on your faces, light in your eyes, and quiet laughter drifting from you.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” Gerard said, hand still behind your neck.

“You have no idea how much I need you to do it again.”

And with that, your lips met. And would meet, again, again and again.

Taglist:

This is a new account, I was @immrbrightsideeee so please click here if you were and still want to be on my taglist, or if you want to be added (it'd mean a lot!)

@fandomfoodiedancer @smiling-girl @niche-bitch @charlie-rulerofhell

[roxanaagriche111]

Before you read, I would like to explain some things! First off, if you guys don’t know what the rules are then please go back to the masterlist page here! If you have any problems with the rules then please kindly leave!

In this story, you are Yuu’s little sister. Yuu is a boy in this fanfic! Yuu never left Twisted Wonderland as he decided to stay there. It turned out he had magic this entire time that was sealed away for unknown reasons. Anyways, Yuu decided to stay after making friends and fond memories with the others. He also didn’t think he would fit in with his past life since there are no magic involved. He is still the Prefect from Ramshackle and had adopted Grimm while also being adopted by Divus Crewel.

FYI: In this information about who you are in this story. I had already made your personality, hobby, likes and dislikes, and background, etc. while the rest you decide! If they are wrong then I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are, what you look like, etc. This is all based on fanfiction!

Thank you and enjoy!

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

Name: (Y/n) Divus

Gender: Female

Age: for this story you are around 15-16 (you are supposed to be like Chii from Chobits. You don’t have to look like her with skin, hair, eyes, etc. but your behavior is like hers. Chii’s age is unknown so I made you 15-16 cause she looks like one )

Height: for this story you’re 5’0 (gotta make you smol for this story. Imagine the males all swooning at how tiny and cute you are! But if you are smaller or a bit taller then you’re welcome to change it as you please!!)

Body figure: you decide

Hair color and length: you decide

Eye color: you decide

Skin color: you decide

Sexuality: straight

Wording shortcuts: (Y/n)=your name, (L/n)=last name, (h/l)=hair length, (h/c)=hair color, (e/c)=eye color, (s/c)=skin color, (fav/f)=fav food, (fav/c)=fav color

Origin: you decide

Family:

(F/n) (L/n) (father/???)

(M/n) (L/n (mother/???)

Yuu Divus(older brother/alive)

Grimm Divus (adopted younger brother/alive)

Divus Crewel (adopted father/alive)

Dire Crowley (somewhat adopted uncle figure/alive (sadly))

Most of the teachers (older siblings/uncles/alive)

Best friends:

Ortho

All of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd years.

All the teachers

Students from Royal Sword Academy

Species: Human

Occupation: Yuu’s little sister / Night Raven College’s cute princess / Ramshackle’s princess

Suitors (some might have slight Yandere tendencies cause who can blame them?! They need to protect!!):

All of the dorms plus its members (too lazy to put everyone’s names and last names lol)

Royal Sword Academy (some are Oc found on Pinterest, in my head, or in the game)

Rollo Flamm (depending)

Platonic relationships:

Grimm

Ortho

Checka

Personality:

In this story, you act like Chii from the anime Chobits. You tend to blank out a lot and wander off by yourself causing your older brother to panic. This is not only because you wander off on your own. You also tend to fall asleep on random people either because you’re too tired or you think they are your brother. Nobody can push you off or wake you up cause you’re too darn cute!! You tend to also be curious about places and people. You also have somewhat of a childlike behavior.

Extra fact about your background/personality: you would often latch onto someone. Rather in a day dream state or not. You would run over to that person and wrap your arms latching onto that very person. Sometimes it’s your brother, animals, or even those that you feel familiar with. You latch onto them and fall asleep with ease despite many possible dangers.

Hobbies:

Don’t judge, but you love reading child books for unknown reasons. (Chii likes to read the kid's books in the anime) You also love to draw, but you seem to love sleeping more. Especially wandering off somewhere to who knows where. Where your older brother ends up having to find you a lot of times.

Likes:

You care for your brother a lot and those that you’re close with. You love animals of all kinds and are quite curious of them. Drawing is also your favorite pastime along with sleeping.

Dislikes:

You dislike mean people and those who bully your friends. You don’t like being left behind or worse forgotten. You also don’t like getting hurt or injured because you make your older brother worry about you. You don’t like getting wet a lot such as swimming. This is because you’re bad at swimming and don’t know how to swim. (This is because you had accidentally fallen asleep at a public pool and almost drowned. You’re too scared being in a certain amount of water after almost drowning!)

Background:

You are Yuu’s little sister and it’s uncertain if you have magic or not. You don’t talk as much and mostly write the things you want to say, but you’re not mute for some reason. You also have a tendency to get injured easily or bruised up very quickly. If you bump into a wall or something, you instantly have a bruise. In other words, you’re fragile like glass. For another odd reason, you tend to blank out and wander around before falling asleep on someone or something. You don’t know how many times Yuu would panic if not seeing you in his eyesight! You did go to public schools, but considering your blank and wandering nature, plus sleeping at random places or people. You became homeschooled and is taught/watched over by your neighbor named granny. You are watched by your neighbor as your brother goes to public school and later picks you up.

Fun extra fact: You tend to forget to put shoes on and walk around barefooted a lot, rather it’s inside a place or out. Poor Yuu has to make sure to carry extra shoes on him to make sure you don’t injure yourself. Since you also tend to wander around while loosing sight of your brother. You have these four small bells on you. Two on each leg wrapped around your ankles. This helps your brother locate you better. You don’t bother to take them off cause you tend to forget very easily.

These are what you would wear at the college and what you tend to wear when not in class.

Also, you like to dress Lolita style like how Chii from Chobits would wear. This is because your character is based on the characteristics of Chii!!

Your uniform:

Your casual clothing

MASTERLIST

STORY SUMMARY

PROLOGUE COMING SOON

CHAPTER 1 COMING SOON

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

eddie reading to you

I am thinking so much all the time about Eddie reading lord of the rings to you

like I imagine you’re talking to him one day and he references the hobbit and starts explaining it and you’re like “Eddie, I have actually read the hobbit you know”

and at first he’s like (●♡∀♡) “you have???” 

but then he realises “but I’ve talked about lord of the rings so many times and you never said anything” and you have to tell him

“well, when I finished the hobbit…I realised I don’t really like reading fantasy?”

Eddie: I am betrayed, I am scandalised, I am heartbroken

but he asks you why and you’re like “it’s just hard for me to get in to something that out there I guess? if it doesn’t seem real to me, it’s hard to picture.”

“and then with every chapter there’s more characters with different names and sometimes a different species and…it’s hard to keep track”

and that, he can kind of understand

but it’s so important to him, so at first you try to read it yourself and save some questions for when you see him

but that’s even worse because without the context of where you are in the book it’s easy for him to go off on tangents

Eddie: and so that’s why there’s been a feud between the dwarves and the elves that’s lasted pretty much since they were created 

You: Eddie, I just asked you to remind me who Celebrimbor was

and also in his absolute ideal dream land he gets to watch you experience this amazing story 

honestly the real dream is that Eddie is alive and well in 2001 and you get to see the movies together I cry to think about it please hold me

but in 1986, the best he can do is reading it aloud to you ignoring the animated movie, and actually it’s just as good

cause the BEST Eddie scene (and I DO NOT accept criticism) is him playing D&D, describing everything that happens with so much confidence and enthusiasm, creating tension with his tone and acting things out, laughing with so much excitement and joy to see their reactions to the story he’s set up for them

so it becomes such a routine, going back to his trailer at the end of the day, maybe eating together or and talking for an hour

then he takes you to his room and sits up against the headboard with you against his warm chest

Eddie occasionally tapping your arm to get you to hold the blunt to his lips so he can take a drag while he turns a page

on turning the page, he holds the book in front of both of you so you can read along if you want

and you do, sometimes, but often you’re just watching his steady hands while he speaks

and it’s so much better, cause when you ask who somebody is or what something means he knows exactly the information you need to know for what’s happening in the story at that moment

and mainly it’s just how gooooood he’d be at different voices and tones

gentle voices for the hobbits, sam especially. 

a little joyful and mischievous for merry and pippin, slowly fading as they learn

the wisdom and strength that comes through in the voice he does for gandalf

growling and hissing in your ear as gollum in a way that sends a touch of terror through you even as you’re leaning your head back to watch his face for reassurance that it’s still him

swaying and bobbing you both together rhythmically during bilbo’s party, like you’re there listening to the hobbit’s folky harps and accordions

bringing his voice low to get you on edge before a chase or a battle, slowly tightening his arms around you to make you sense the impending trap

every surprise accompanied by a sudden shout and a jolt, sending your heart racing like you didn’t see the words a second before he said them out loud, like you didn’t know

and when Eddie’s voice cracks a little, reading Boromir’s death, or Frodo going to the Grey Havens, you feel your throat close up too

and when you finish return of the king, both of you start laughing a little sadly to look at each other, both wiping tears from the others face

and Eddie wraps you up in his arms all snug and kisses the top of your hair and asks if that was better than reading it yourself

and you tell him how good he is at making the story come alive and how much you loved listening to him over the weeks it took to finish the books

and Eddie is all blushy and sweet and bashful pulling his HAIR over his lovely FACE 

and he tells you he loved watching you experience it and thanks you for letting him share something so special to him with you 

and so then you have to ask

“Eddie, I know I said I didn’t like it much before, but I want to experience it like this. would you read the hobbit to me?”

i wnat…i want eddie to be my bf…

[phxntomsdusk]

Past life - Klepto!Wilbur x GN!Reader

note: it’s pre-death klepto!wilbur !! this is gonna def make someone sad so i apologize in advance- i can’t let my bursonas live in peace, they always gotta be traumatized. Also relationship between Wilbur and the reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you want :)

summary: you finally figure out what had turned the poor boy into a soul snatcher.

warnings: hella angst, mentions of death, swearing, self hurting thoughts/actions, comfort at some parts, parents fighting, divorce, alcoholic father, details of death, you probably will cry if you love this character

tags: @ax-y10 , @joviepog , @pheliiaa , @idontreallyexistyet , @rqvii , @haunted-headset , @ivvees-blog , @average-vibe , @lillylvjy , @toastyliltoasts41 (ask to be added!)

word count: 3K

You never expected to get close to the very man who was meant to take your soul, but here you were, comforting him as he cried to you about everything that led up to his very passing. He never told you any of this before, let alone trusted you knowing any of it.

You had found out so much. About his sister, his parents, his death, his first love. It was so heartbreaking.

Him and Wilma barely got along. The two were polar opposites, with her having many friends and constantly at other people’s houses, and him only talking to one person and spending most time in his room. He had tried his best to get on her side, but they just never saw eye to eye.

His best friend was Ryan, also his first love. He always thought something was wrong with him for loving a boy, but couldn’t help it. He was beautiful, perfect, everything you would want in a partner.

His parents got divorced when he was young, his mother taking custody of Wilma while he got stuck with his dad. Him and his father had a rocky relationship, while his mom completely stopped visiting after so many weeks.

During the summer Wilbur always found himself sitting atop the hill behind his house, sitting under the old oak tree and reading books his mother had gifted him. He always loved dark themed stories, ones that left readers confused and disturbed. His sister never understood his liking for these books, always finding herself reading romance and cliche teen girl stories. She would sometimes join him under the tree, but their calm and peaceful moments never lasted long.

He could hear the crunching of branches behind him, glancing around the trunk to see Wilma approaching in her sundress. She awkwardly sat down next to him, leaning her head back against the tree and sighed. “They’re fighting again.” She mumbled quietly, moving her head against his shoulder. He quickly nodded and began to read his book aloud to her, making sure she could also follow along, he tilted the pages in her direction.

It was moments like these that made him grateful for his sister, a smile always stuck on his face as she embraced him, even if it was just for a source of comfort.

“I loved her for her silence. Or maybe I just understood it.” He read the words out loud, before being interrupted by Wilma. “Do you ever feel that way?” She raised a brow, sitting up straight and brought her knees up to her chest. “Feel like what?” He placed his bookmark on the page, putting the book down in his lap. “Silent.. just wanting to be quiet. Maybe it’ll fix whatever the hell is wrong with them.” She gestured towards the house, where you could see two arguing and yelling figures in the kitchen window, to which she frowned.

“I get what you mean. Don’t worry, they’ll stop.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, watching as she hesitantly nodded and sighed. “Hopefully. I honestly can’t wait for the day they divorce and send us off to Aunt Tiff’s.” She chuckled lightly, earning a laugh from Wilbur. “Doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Then we can visit the sea each morning and stare out at the horizon.” He smiled at the idea, to which she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You and your bloody daydreams.” She laughed and nudged his arm, before their mother shouted for her to come back inside. “I’m, uh, gonna go. Bye, Wil.” She quickly stood up, dusting off her skirt and rushed down the small hill.

If only they had more time, Wilbur thought. More time to actually treat one another like a person. More time for him to finally feel loved by someone in that dreadful house.

He sighed and opened his book again, picking up where he had stopped with a sorrowful expression, trying to ignore the tears that welled up in his eyes the second she had walked away.

That following spring, just as Wilma predicted their parents filed for a divorce. But instead of being sent away to their aunt’s home, Wilbur was dragged away by their father and taken to a small shitty apartment downtown. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye to Wilma before he was on his way to a new home.

Of course he had her number, but he doubted she would even answer while with their mother. He simply stared out the window with a hurt expression, sniffling quietly but was told to shut up by his father.

Arriving at the apartment wasn’t any better. It had one bedroom, leaving him to sleep on the small futon placed in the living room that merged into the kitchen. His father didn’t seem to care and walked past him, heading into the bedroom with his bag and slammed the door shut.

“God damnit.” He groaned and grabbed the bag his dad packed for him off the ground, making his way to the futon and tossed it atop, before sitting down and frowned. He could feel each and every spring poking against his legs, causing him to quickly stand up and look for a blanket or pillow to lay down over it.

He knew his dad was a loser, but this was a new all time low. Leaving his only son with nothing but a small duffle bag with a few shirts and pants, no self care or anything. How would he manage to survive this?

“Wil! Get me a drink!” The shout from his dad made him internally cringe, clenching his jaw as he obeyed his words and walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, of course only filled with beer and water. He figured which one his dad wanted, grabbing the coldest one he could find before walking towards the bedroom.

He didn’t bother to question how his dad already had this place, stocked the fridge with only two types of drinks, and didn’t even bother to get proper furniture. He simply entered the room with a blank expression, putting the can on the bedside table before walking out, sighing quietly to himself.

“When will this shit get better?” He ran a hand over his face, before checking the time on his watch and saw he should at least try to sleep. Of course the futon was extremely uncomfortable, leaving him to use his bag as a pillow and he just slept in the clothes he wore all day.

As before he had mentioned Ryan, the very boy he had fallen in love with, the boy he hoped to confess to on this dreadful day. It was the first time in months that Wilbur had been back at his original home, mostly visiting his mom and Wilma, but when talk of Ryan coming over came up he couldn’t resist.

He was waiting at the hill, reading his book, but had himself facing the residence so he could see when his love would arrive. When the sudden sight of blonde hair and a red shirt appeared, he knew it had to be him.

“Ryan!” Wilbur shouted happily, rushing to stand up, leaving his book to sit wide open in the dirt. He rushed down the hill, stumbling slightly off the sidewalk and into the road, looking up to meet Ryan’s gaze. “Wow, Wilbur, be careful.” He chuckled lightly, glancing back and forth before he was about to cross.

But that’s when everything had changed.

Within only a few seconds a car horn could be heard, causing Wilbur’s gaze to divert to his right, seeing a white light nearing him. It was as if in the blink of an eye he was there, and then he was gone.

“Holy fuck! Wilbur!” Ryan quickly rushed over to him, holding up his head and placed a hand on the back of his neck, inspecting the wide gash he had just gained. The rushing footsteps of Wilma and his mother could be heard, a terrified shriek escaping his sister’s mouth as she knelt down next to him.

He could barely comprehend anything happening, he just felt so lightheaded and groggy, barely able to keep his eyes open as the taste of metal filled his mouth. He stared up at Ryan, tears filling his eyes as he weakly lifted a hand, only to be turned down and handed off to his mom, while he heard the tapping of a phone and soon the dialing of a call.

He didn’t understand what was happening. Was he dying? Was this really how his life was going to end? On the side of the road at 15 years old, just days before he was meant to turn 16. Just days before he could spend the day with his family again. Why did this have to happen to him?

Of course, that’s the last moment Wilbur remembered being alive. The next thing he knew he woke up in the hospital, his family crying around him as he stared in confusion, only to glance back and see his own lifeless body in the bed. A large gash across his neck, nearing his face.

The emotions he felt were difficult to explain, he was glad he didn’t have to deal with his father anymore, but seeing the pain he caused everyone hurt. Seeing his sister slowly spiral into a moment of depression and pain, his mother sobbing her eyes out to the point she couldn’t stand, and his father.. nowhere to be seen.

It was all so overwhelming, with him quickly leaving the hospital and rushed down the street. Though he didn’t notice the locket that somehow appeared around his neck, not until a sudden shadow seemed to be following him, reaching out for it and trying to drag him back to where his body lay.

All he could do was try his best to ignore this feeling, instead tearing the locket off himself and throwing it behind him. His biggest mistake ever.

He furrowed his brows as he slowly stopped in his tracks, watching as his surroundings only became darker and more grim, colder and more dull. “What the hell..” he mumbled under his breath, turning around and trying to walk, only to bump into something.

He didn’t even know what he was getting himself into, not until he felt the sudden paint returning to his neck, his surroundings becoming visible again, except there were so many more people. So many people he knew had passed in that town. He recognized an old shopkeeper who had lost his life during a fire, the burn marks still on his face and hands. He quickly walked over to the man, hoping he would have an answer.

“Mr. Williams?” He spoke in a quiet tone, watching the man turn to face him with a warm smile. “Wilbur? Is that you? My, you’ve gotten big.” His tone was welcoming, until he had taken notice of how young Wilbur was. “Aren't you quite young still? You shouldn’t be here.” He frowned and walked closer, taking note of the large gash on the side of Wilbur’s neck. “My, my. Such a shame.” Without another word he was gone, leaving Wil more confused than before.

Of course it didn’t stop here, how could it? He had become the Grim Reaper’s assistant after all.

It all started when he was simply walking past the hospital again, taking notice of a young boy outside the building, a locket around his neck as he stood there, always like he was waiting for someone.

“Hey, kid.” Wilbur approached him, raising a brow as he slightly bent down to meet his height. “Who are you waiting for?” His voice got quiet, watching the boy shrug and fiddle with the necklace around his neck. “I don’t know. I’m just here.” He pursed his lips, looking away from Wil.

He felt bad for the kid, he was dead and didn’t even know it. He quickly looked around the area, before crouching down and gestured towards the locket. “Let me see the locket.” He reached a hand out, watching as the boy hesitantly took it off and placed it in Wilbur’s hands. Engraved in the small emerald gem was an ‘H’. “What’s your name?” Wilbur looked back up at the kid, before standing up straight. “Henry.”

Before Wilbur could even speak again he was gone, causing him to state in confusion and disbelief. Where had the kid gone? He couldn’t easily disappear like that, could he? It was like Mr. Williams all over again.

He didn’t know what to do with the locket, and simply pocketed it, saying to himself mentally that he’d find a proper grave for it at some point.

But of course he didn’t. And he kept helping those lost souls finally rest in peace. It started with random people he found who looked lost, simply suggesting they give him their locket, to which they did. But once they got stubborn he took it upon himself to find their bodies and lead them to it, showing that they needed to hand over the locket so they could properly cross over.

He didn’t know he was truly helping someone this entire time, he simply thought he was doing the right thing. But with each locket he collected, he felt more power hungry for more. He wanted to fill his coat pockets, his drawers in the small house he claimed, the walls that had so many puncture holes from pins being pushed in and out.

Throughout this whole period of time, these months upon months, turned years of waiting for a change. He got one.

You watched as he got choked up on his words, causing you to hold his face in your hands and hold him close. “Wilbur, take your time. What changed?” You spoke softly, furrowing your brows at him.

“It.. it was Wilma. I found her.”

Just like he said. He found her. Wandering around the streets with a confused look on her face, her body hidden away in a baggy hoodie and sweatpants, her tear soaked cheeks shining in the dim moonlight.

“Wilma?” His voice called out, rushing over to her with a confused look. His eyes locked in on the locket she wore, trying to ignore the intense urge to snatch it from her. “How are you here?” He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching her look up and get choked up on speaking.

“I wanted to see my brother again, Wil. It’s been years.” She quickly pulled him into a hug, crying heavily into his shoulder, her arms wrapping tightly around his torso. He instantly hugged her back, a hand on the back of her head as he held her close. “How old are you, Wilm?” He spoke quietly, listening as she struggled to answer. “20. It’s been 5 years since you passed.”

He knew she couldn’t have passed from natural causes, suspecting one thing that he didn’t want to assume. “Did it hurt?” He spoke quietly, feeling her shake her head against him, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “Thankfully no. I just.. it’s hard without you, y’know.” She pulled away from their hug, frowning slightly as she placed her hands on his face, smiling at the sight of him.

“Still young as ever. I’m jealous.” She chuckled softly, watching as he smiled at her words, nodding and nervously looked down. “Listen.. Wilma.” He sighed and gestured towards the locket she wore, biting the corner of his lip. “If you wanna fully pass over, you’re gonna need to hand over the locket.”

Her face somewhat dropped, clutching the green gem in her hands as she shook her head frantically. “What? No! I just got to see you again after 5 years, how could I leave so quickly?”

“Wilma, you have to. It’s not smart to stick around for so long without crossing over.” His tone became much more demanding, staring her down as he tried to get her to just agree with his words. “Do you do this to everyone you see? What the fuck has gotten into you?” She took a step back, glancing down at his coat pockets, seeing a shine through them. She was quick with her actions, reaching forward and snatching a few, before running off in the other direction. “Wilma! What the fuck?!” He quickly rushed after her, trying his best to catch her before she did the worst thing she could think of.

She had found her way to a graveyard, letting out a shaky breath as she thought quickly. She picked one of the lockets and dug a small hole in a grave, shoving the locket inside before packing the dirt down, watching as the green gem glowed through the brown muck. “Holy shit..” She muttered under her breath, before crawling towards another grave, doing the same thing as before, hearing as Wilbur’s footsteps got closer.

“Wilma, what are you doing?” He panicked as he saw the glows through the dirt, staring at her with a look of betrayal and hurt. “How.. how could you!” He rushed over to try and unbury one of them, but before he could, it was gone. “Wilma, what did you do?” He stared at her with confusion, watching as the glow of the other’s died down.

This was the moment he knew the two of them would probably never see eye to eye again. He had spent years collecting lost souls, and now all of sudden Wilma is back and somehow managed to return souls to earth. He didn’t understand, simply staring down at the empty dirt mound, feeling his stomach drop.

“So, that’s why you and her don’t talk anymore?” You quirked a brow up, watching him note and fiddle with the small locket he had in his pocket. “Yeah. Ever since then I haven't seen her again.” He sighed and looked over at you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“It’s harder for lost souls to cross over now. She’s constantly searching for them.. burying the lockets in the graveyard. Before I can ever get them they’re back to earth.” He spoke quietly, an annoyed look forming on his face. “It doesn’t always work out sometimes..”

You looked down at him with a confused look, lightly wrapping an arm around him. “What do you mean?” You spoke quietly, leaning your head on his.

“Staying silent.”

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Penance

“Thus died Robin Hood, at Kirklees Nunnery, in fair Yorkshire, with mercy in his heart towards those that had been his undoing; for thus he showed mercy for the erring and pity for the weak though all the time of his living.”

Oliver turned the page of the book although he wasn’t reading from it anyway. He had read the story to his children so often that he could just repeat it from memory by now. Instead, his eyes were taking in Millie and Addie, who had cuddled up to each other under the blanket and had just fallen asleep, and Hawk, who had curled up on the foot of the bed and was snoring softly.

“His yeomen were scattered henceforth,” he continued anyway because there was only paragraph left, and he knew that his children had a supernatural power of always knowing when he didn’t read to the end, “but no great ill befell them thereafter, for a more merciful sheriff and one who knew them not so well succeeding the one that had gone, and they being separated here and there throughout the countryside, they abided in peace and quietness, so that many lived to hand down these tales to their children and their children’s children.”

He closed the book quietly and put it on the nightstand. Turning back to the two sleeping girls, he allowed himself to just look at them for a moment longer. They looked incredibly peaceful. All the events of the last week hadn’t harmed them lastingly. At least it seemed like they had recovered from it mostly.

With a quiet smile on his lips, Oliver kissed first Millie’s and then Addie’s forehead. Petting Hawk’s head briefly, he got up and tiptoed to the door. He didn’t want to wake them up again like he had had when he had finished reading to them without reading the epilogue. When he turned around at the door, the girls as well as Hawk were still peacefully asleep though.

Oliver switched off the light and had already taken a step out of Millie’s room when-

“Daddy?”

It would have been too easy, he thought to himself with an amused smile and turned back. The light from the hallway fell right onto the bed, so he could see Addie’s big eyes on him without switching the light back on again.

“Yes, little wildflower?”

Addie smiled brightly at that. Back in her room at their house, there had been a picture with the words In a field full of roses, she’s a wildflower on it. When Oliver had visited the ruins of their home today, he had found that some rare items had remained maybe not untouched but at least they had appeared savable in the entire wreckage. That picture had been one of those items. It needed to be newly framed, but that was a small price to pay given the meaning that picture had for them.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

Oliver cocked his head, smiling sadly. Maybe these past events had left more harm on the kids than they were letting on sometimes. They seemed okay most of the times, but the kids had never asked him questions like that because they had always known that he was here. Even when he wasn’t here in person, he was here. They could call him, videocall him, text him, anything. He was present, but he hadn’t been as long as he had been in remand.

As quietly as possible, Oliver stepped back towards the bed and kneeled down at the bedside. He crossed his arms on the edge of the mattress and leaned close to Addie.

“I swear to you,” he whispered solemnly, “that daddy will always do everything that he can to be here.”

“But what if it’s not enough?”

Oliver reached out a hand and moved his fingers through Addie’s blonde hair. She didn’t look scared necessarily, but rather interested. She wanted an honest answer because even at only four years old she had already learned that you could give your best, and it still wasn’t enough. She knew Oliver would always want to come home, and yet he hadn’t been able to come.

“The police is working with us now,” Oliver explained to her, “so we have a giant team and you know what’s good about a team? Everyone has each other’s back when they are on a team.”

Addie didn’t seem quite satisfied with that answer. They had been working in a team already, and he had still been arrested. They had worked with the police, unofficially at least, too. That hadn’t prevented his arrest either.

“I love you,” he whispered, “and whenever I can, I will be here. If I can’t, you can be sure that you, your sisters and your brothers as well as mommy are always in my heart.”

Addie nodded slowly. When she spread her arms, Oliver hugged her as tightly as he could and placed a firm kiss on her cheek. Luckily, when he looked into her face this time, she was smiling. Oliver pushed his nose against hers playfully and kissed her cheek once more before he pulled back.

“Now do me a favor and sleep,” he asked, tugging the blanket tightly around her, “so you can help me making breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Pancakes!” she screamed in a whisper, shooting a quick look at Millie, who was still fast asleep. “Please!”

Oliver winked at her and nodded. “Tomorrow morning, you will get everything you want for breakfast.”

That prospect seemed to be to Addie’s liking. She turned onto her side, snuggling up to Millie, and closed her eyes. Oliver was sure that she was asleep before he even straightened back up.

When he left the room this time, neither of the kids woke up. They stayed fast asleep. He left the door ajar, so a chink of light would help them to orientate themselves in the room when they woke up. Even after a week at the penthouse, everyone was still waking up confused about where they were.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Oliver made his way towards the bedroom. He and Felicity would have to think about what to do now. They couldn’t stay at the penthouse forever. Life here was comfortable of course, but the penthouse just didn’t offer the domestic atmosphere that they were used to. Even when they decorated everything to their liking, he couldn’t see their family living here for longer.

“Millie and Addie are finally asleep.” Oliver stepped into the master bedroom, already taking off his shirt. “I think we might have to keep an eye on Addie. She was-“

Only now that Oliver looked up, he realized that Felicity was not waiting for him in bed already. Frowning, he looked around like he was expecting Felicity to be somewhere he hadn’t seen her yet, but the room was indeed empty. The door to the bathroom had been left ajar, but the light there was switched off, so he doubted that Felicity was there.

Thinking that she was probably just getting something to drink or maybe checking on Emmy or Tommy, Oliver went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and was actually ready to just drop his sweatpants and get into bed. Since Felicity was still not there though, he figured that he should begin to search for her after all.

The penthouse consisted of a lot of different rooms. They didn’t even use all of them, mainly because they had preferred to stay together these past days after they had been separated involuntarily. Apart from seven of the bedrooms, they only used the kitchen, the dining room and the living room. Now they were using one of the storage rooms too as Oliver had put the few things that he had been able to save from their house there.

The latter was where he found her. The light that came from the room was what gave it away. Oliver thought he would find her working on the safe that he had found in the wreckage of their home. He hadn’t been able to open it. Apparently, the fire had caused some defense mechanisms to take effect. Felicity had told him that she’d take care of it. The safe held mostly family photos, so they had kept true treasures in it. Oliver couldn’t even remember how it had started that they had put family photos in there. Now he was glad that they had.

When Oliver opened the door a little more and looked inside the room, he didn’t find Felicity in her element though. Instead, he found her standing there with her head lowered, holding the mobile that had decorated Mia’s crib in her hands. Oliver wasn’t sure why he had decided to take it. One of the sloths had been ripped off, another one singed. Some of the plastic had been smoldered. It wasn’t really usable anymore, especially not in a nursery. He guessed it was the memory it held that had made it savable to him.

Felicity kept her face down, looking at the sloth. Her hair was falling in her face, so he couldn’t see it, but he was almost sure that she had tears in her eyes or was crying already. Her fingers were trembling slightly when they moved over one of the sloths. She took in a deep, trembling breath.

Oliver felt his heart break into a thousand different pieces. After the had reunited, he and Felicity had tried to be optimistic. They were still sad, but they knew that they had a lot of things on their agenda now. They had to take care of a lot of things to reorganize their lives, and they should do so as soon as possible. Their kids needed stability.

It was the crazy thing as a parent. You often had to stand back and do what was best for your children. You didn’t want to worry them, so you tried to offer stability and security even when you were feeling like the ground you were standing on was crumbling away. They leaned on each other, but with a world this shaken, there were moment when even that wasn’t enough.

When Oliver moved closer, Felicity noticed him. She flinched, hurried to put the mobile down and wipe away her tears. She cleared her throat and put on a smile.

“Have Addie and Millie fallen asleep?” she asked. “I checked on Emmy and Tommy. They are fast asleep already. William went to see some friends for his last night here before he leaves tomorrow. I thought we could-“

When Oliver simply approached Felicity and wrapped his arms around her tightly, she stopped talking. For the beat of a second, she tensed. She didn’t want to be hugged. She didn’t want to be held. She was scared that she would break down if she was.

“I miss her too,” Oliver whispered and snuggled his cheek to the top of her head, “every minute of every day.”

Felicity stayed still for a moment. Oliver was sure that she was holding her breath and biting her tongue. She didn’t want to fall apart. Even now that it was just the two of them and she knew that he had seen her crying already, she hesitated to show her feelings to him openly. He placed a comforting kiss to the crown of her head, and that was what finally made her take in a sniffling breath, wrap her arms around his middle and start crying.

Oliver had held Felicity multiple times while she had been crying, and it had broken his heart every time. This time was no different. His heart broke for Felicity, who was feeling so sad. His heart also broke because it had been cracked before. He missed Mia just as much as Felicity did. He tried not to think about the fact that she was not with them anymore too often. Of all the pain he had ever felt, the one of losing a child – even though he knew that she was alive and well – was the worst of them.

When they had taken Mia in, they had always known that this could happen. They had known that Mia’s biological parents or at least family of them could be found and Mia would be taken back. It was why Felicity had been hesitant to take her in at the start. Then she had found out about the fate of Mia’s biological parents – their doppelgängers on some other earth – and that had allowed Felicity to relax and allow her love for Mia to fill her without any worries. It hadn’t even been about the genetic connection they had, but simply about knowing that Mia’s biological family would never ask for her back.

Felicity snuggled herself closer to Oliver’s body, and he felt her breathing growing slower and deeper already. Oliver continued to hold her anyway and rubbed his hands over her back soothingly.

“I talked to Ms. Wheeler today,” she said eventually, her voice still shaking slightly, “about what happened during her vacation. She called when she came back and heard that Mia was taken away from us.”

Oliver’s muscles tightened slightly. When Mia had been taken from them, a complete stranger had been the one picking her up because Ms. Wheeler, the social worker that had been in charge of their case, had been on vacation. Felicity had tried to called her a hundred times, but she had been unavailable.

Realistically, Oliver knew that even when Ms. Wheeler had been here, Mia would have been placed with someone else. The home of a supposed criminal wouldn’t have been right even in her eyes. Ms. Wheeler had been very nice to them though, and she had been very supportive of them becoming Mia’s foster parents. She had even suggested it to him. Maybe together they could have found a way for Mia to still be part of their lives. It was a farfetched hope, but it had been all they had had.

“What did she say?”

Taking in another deep breath, Felicity pulled back slightly. She pusher her hair behind her ears and adjusted her glasses. She rested her hands on his chest then.

“She said we are not getting her back.”

Oliver nodded, unable to speak. They had known that they had no chance of getting her back, but hearing it from Ms. Wheeler let it sound so incredibly irrevocable. That hurt despite knowing it before.

“Of course not,” Oliver whispered, “there are still too many questions unanswered about how the team can continue in its new way. Then it’s still dangerous, not just for us, but the kids too now. Everyone knows who we are and who they are. It’s-“

“Even when we offer the answers to that.” Felicity took in a sniffling breath. “We are not even getting her back then. Ms. Wheeler talked to come of her colleagues because she thinks that Mia’s case is very special. Apparently, most of them think that Mia needs stability. The back and forth of being taken from and then brought back to us wouldn’t be good for her development. She said she could maybe place a different child in our care once everything is settled, but-“

“It’s not the same.” Oliver shook his head. “No.”

Although Oliver thought that it was very honorable of people to take foster children in, he knew that they couldn’t take in another child. Knowing they could feel the pain they were feeling now again would make it impossible. They would live in constant fear. Besides, when the social workers thought that they couldn’t offer stability for Mia, Oliver doubted that they could offer it for any other child.

Felicity took in a breath, about to say something. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, and she looked away and shook her head. A small crease formed between her eyebrows.

“What?” Oliver asked quietly. “What are you thinking?”

“What if we demand a DNA test? It would prove that she is our daughter. It’s how we found out where she came from.”

Oliver brushed his fingers against Felicity’s cheek. It was a desperate attempt, and Oliver was almost sure that Felicity knew it too. The desperation was right there in her eyes, right behind that sparkle of hope.

“And how do you want to explain to them that we put her in a dumpster right in front of one of ours buildings and then found her there in a way that caught the attention of the media and then even took her in?”

The story sounded like out of some terrible TV drama, and Oliver felt like he and Felicity were the bad ones in that one. He had an idea what people would think about them when they told them that. They would think that Oliver and Felicity had tried to use their own child to make themselves saints in the eyes of the city. It would be seen as a terrible attempt at manipulating the city.

“We could tell them the truth,” Felicity said, “about the other earths and the doppelgängers and-“

“Felicity.” Oliver shook his head. “Staring might be ready to accept vigilantes now, but different earths and doppelgängers? Even if they believed in it, it would only create panic. We can’t do that.”

There was a beat of silence. Felicity looked at him intently like she was thinking about a good response, something to change his mind. When she released a long sigh, her shoulders slumped and she shook her head though.

“You’re right.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I am tried and belong in bed. I can’t think clearly anymore.”

She placed a shallow kiss on Oliver’s chest and went past him towards the bedroom.

Oliver took a brief look at the saved stuff. His fingers stroke over the mobile that he had caught Felicity looking at before. That, dozens of photos and all of their memories were what was left of Mia. They had been a part of her life for a short span in her life. Somehow that had to be enough.

He switched off the light, closed the door and followed Felicity into the bedroom. She was already lying in bed when he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Instead of joining her in bed already, Oliver leaned back against the bedroom door and watched Felicity for a moment.

It didn’t take long for her to notice. She cocked her head and frowned, patting the empty side of the bed next to her.

“Come here,” she told him, “or I can’t fall asleep.”

Although she was smiling and trying to make her voice sound light, Oliver could still hear the heaviness of their conversation before coming through. Heaviness and sadness would accompany them for a while, Oliver guessed.

“I think I should schedule an appointment with Dr. Rosario.”

They had made good experience with Dr. Rosario. She had helped them through some troublesome moments. Although she barely said anything now, she sometimes asked a question or helped them redirect their conversation to what was important. They had made incredibly progress in communicating though. They had been quite good at it for a while, but they had become better.

Felicity pushed an arm under her head, so her head was a little propped up and she could look at him more intently. She frowned worriedly.

“Is it your time in prison?” Felicity asked. “Are you having trouble processing it?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. No, it’s not that. It’s… I need to say a few things and I think that professional help could be useful.”

At that Felicity sat up. “I think you need to tell me now, or I won’t sleep again before I know what you need to say.”

He hesitated briefly, but soon had to agree with Felicity. He guessed he had wanted to tell her tonight, but he had wanted to hear if she was ready to hear it. Now he knew that she was.

Oliver left his spot at the door and approached the bed. He sat down at Felicity’s bedside. She grabbed one of his hands and held it between both of hers. She continued to look at him intently, waiting for him to be ready to talk.

“I am sorry.”

Felicity frowned. “For what?”

“For everything.” Oliver let out a long breath. “I’m sorry for everything that I put you through, especially these last days. You had to deal with all of this by yourself. I couldn’t be there for you or for the kids after all the struggle I pulled you in.”

Felicity shook her head and squeezed his hand. She moved her fingers through his stubble, allowed them to move down and settled them over his head eventually. Oliver felt goosebumps follow her touch.

“You have no reason to apologize to me,” she told him firmly, “because we made that choice together. We both decided that you had to turn yourself in, or so many innocents would have died. We had no choice but to give in to Blood Rose at that point.”

How often had Oliver told himself the same thing? How often had he not believed it?

“We have lost our home and our daughter.” Felicity’s voice trembled at the words. “We lost them, but we saved so much more. So many people survived thanks to you turning yourself in. The house, as much as I loved it, is just a house. Mia, as much as I will miss her for the rest of my life, will have a good life by loving foster parents.”

The house he had built for her and their family had held so many precious memories, and it had offered so much safety and comfort. At the end of the day, just like Felicity had said, it was just a house though. Thinking about it, it did not even hold the memories. They did. And maybe the stone, wood and glass that it had been made of wasn’t what had offered the safety and comfort. The people in it had.

Mia was alive and well. They had made sure that she had had a couple of really great months after her troublesome start into life. Now she moved on without them, but she would still grow to be a wonderful human being. If anything hinted to it to be different, Felicity would know it, and they could still decide what to do.

The house and Mia were gone from their lives and that hurt despite all the comforting thoughts.

“We wouldn’t have been able to look ourselves in the eye if we had let that bomb go off,” Felicity said, “and the city would have never trusted us again. So we made the right choice.”

Oliver lowered his eyes to their entangled fingers. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand.

“Still,” he whispered, “if I wasn’t the Green Arrow-“

“I have fallen in love you when you were a vigilante. I was working with you when we got together. I may have not known what I was getting into in all detail, but neither was you. We did what we could to make a happy family and make this place a better place for our children. I think all in all we succeeded.”

Oliver looked into Felicity’s eyes and found no sign there that she didn’t mean what she was saying. She really meant what she said.

What had he ever done to deserve her? Oliver doubted that he would ever understand.

Felicity smiled softly and squeezed his hand once more. She lifted his hand to her lips and placed a kiss to his palm. Her gaze never left her eyes.

“I love you,” Felicity whispered almost solemnly, “and I love us together. I love our family. I love our life together. Not everything worked out the way that we had hoped it would, but I would always decide to be with you again and again and again. I love you.”

Oliver felt his throat getting soar and tears pricking in his eyes. He had never doubted Felicity love for him, but in hard times like these, it meant the world to him that she still would choose him. In a world where people divorced for the smallest reasons, it meant the world to him.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I love you and the kids more than anything in my life.”

Felicity wiped away the tears that fell and pulled his face close, so she could kiss him. The kiss sealed the declaration of love and proved how much every word had been meant exactly like it had been said.

[thatgeekyemo]

Moments To Remember

peter parker x reader | 4.9k

summery: don't ever tell peter parker he doesn't know what he's fighting for. his reasons, past, present, and future influence him daily; his moments to remember

requested prompt 41: "I love you.", request from starrr238 over on Wattpad

Over the years, Peter was told he had a special look that only ever appeared when he was looking at you. An adoration that was reserved for you and only you. His head always tilted slightly to the side, letting a few curls of his hair flop over his face. He wore a soft smile, and there was a warmth in his eyes that never appeared for anyone else. You were always the subject of his gaze, and he always watched you intently. He swept his eyes over every part of you, memorizing you how you were, focusing more intently on your hands, your hair, but always most importantly, your face. Every time he looked at you like that, he was always taking a mental snapshot. Creating a timeless moment in his mind, filed away in the folder of ever growing reasons why he loved you.

If he wanted to, Peter could shuffle through the pictures of perfection he created of you. The way you held his hands after your first kiss so many years ago. Bathed in the golden glow of a setting sun after a picnic in the park. Hair messy, chewing on the back of a pen, and wearing a two day old outfit as you were cramming for your college finals. The love in your eyes as you said yes, the metal band around your finger gleaming against the candle-light. The moments the two of you succeeded in dancing under the spotlight, swaying gently to the slow music—you in your white dress and last name officially his.

There was no doubt the same look was on Peter's face now as he looked at you. His breathing calm and even. You were only a few feet away, in the apartment the both of you shared, nestled into the corner of the couch, but the want to be near you and pull you close intensified. He would no doubt do this later, but right now...right now was a moment to remember.

You were in one of your favorite flowy dresses, the one you kept wearing for its practicality and comfort even as you kept growing. A blanket was draped over your shoulders, and your legs were tucked under you the best they could be, which was a feat in itself. You had a book in your hand, and Peter could tell you were deep into the story by the way your brow furrowed. He followed the ways your eyes flitted from line to line, the small changes in your expression and soft gasps as events unfolded on the paper in front of you.

Between turning the page and nibbling cheese off a plate that was balanced on a pillow for easier access next to you, your hand rested soothingly on the large bump that was your very pregnant stomach, occasionally rubbing mindless circles.

Peter wondered if he could somehow make this moment last forever, but he settled for the comfortable silence instead. The steady thrum of the rain beating on the window outside did nothing to bring down the mood in the cozy New York apartment you and Peter called home.

Everything that was in front of him, everything he had, it was all he ever needed and more. And he just couldn't wait until his family would grow by one more. A child he would proudly call his own. The chance to be the best father—and for you to be the best mother.

When Peter was satisfied, he was careful moving around the couch, not wanting to disturb you as much as he could. Your lips quirked up into a smile as he stole a slice of cheese and he settled down next to you, his hand joining yours on your stomach, mouth chewing a small bite as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The silence continued, and Peter didn't dare to break it with meaningless words. He could stay there with you for hours and never get bored. Sometimes, he didn't understand how he could have ever gotten so lucky. His entire life, he was only a kid from Queens. He used to be a nobody. And then he became Spider-Man. But even then, the hero and Peter Parker were two separate people. He hadn't started to feel truly special until he met you. He watched as you fell in love with the boy beneath the mask, and suddenly, that kid from Queens was the personality Peter began to favor more and more. He could make you smile without having to impress you with his powers, and that was when he realized that somehow, out of all the billions of people in the world, he had found the one.

Minutes ticked by, and Peter was content as he rested his head on your shoulder, his eyes closed, listening to you breathe and the two healthy heartbeats your body held. The heartbeat of his wife, and the heartbeat of his future daughter.

He felt you shift underneath him, heard the rustle of the pages of your book. A soft sigh had him raise his head, his eyes not open just yet.

You brought your palm to his face, pulling him closer so you could place a soft kiss on his lips. Peter smiled as your thumb gently swiped over the light freckles on his cheek, and tried to follow you as you pulled away, but your quiet whisper stopped him.

"I need to pee."

Opening his eyes, Peter chuckled softly. "Do you want help up?"

"Please," you sighed, reaching for his hands as Peter stood up in a fluid motion from the couch. Once you reached around the six month mark, you were so determined to continue to do basic things like getting out of bed or sitting up by yourself, but the tasks just grew harder and harder the farther along in your pregnancy, until the point where you learned to just surrender and accept Peter's help.

He remembered the first day you couldn't move from your favorite armchair by yourself. How your face flushed from frustration as you attempted to push yourself up, but you were too far sunk into the cushions and you were sporting an entire cabbage in your uterus.

You had called Pepper that night, nearly in tears because the baby was going to hinder your ability to move around and you actually had to start asking for help—which you at the time had made out to be akin to the greatest sin of all.

At the same time, Peter was on the other side of the room. While you were on the phone talking to a woman who empathized with you, he had accepted a call from a very tired Tony Stark, who assured him that he was in the exact same position with Pepper when she was seven months—and in fact, from what he could hear, your rant was nearly identical.

Peter held on to keep you balanced as you teetered a little bit as you stood on your feet, but once he was sure you could stand, his hands gravitated to either side of your belly.

"Has she said hello today?" He asked, leaning his head to touch yours.

"Loads of times. You missed a very active day." You snorted. "Got dangerously close to my ribs too. I swear, if she fractures one of them again..."

"I told you that's not my fault!" Peter grinned, pulling his head back to look at you. "Babies do it all the time, freaky super-spider genetics have nothing to do with it!"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head, and Peter could tell you were fighting the urge to smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple and you slipped out of his arms to pass by him.

A smile never left Peter's face as he watched you waddle your way to the bathroom in little and careful steps. There was something endearing about the way you had started to walk so you could see your feet and balance, and to your dismay, it had led to Peter calling you his penguin on more than one occasion. It was all the more annoying when you had actually dressed in white and black once. After a long struggle to roll out of an empty bed, you had made your way to the kitchen, where Peter had been attempting to make breakfast and you were greeted with a perfectly purposeful Morning, penguin. You had stuck your tongue out at Peter, but he just countered that you'd walked right into that one. You had, so to his victory, you couldn't even argue.

Once the door closed behind you, Peter hovered around the hallway, just a couple of feet away in case you needed him. It didn't matter how many times you told him that he could help with anything else, but you at least wanted the dignity to wipe by yourself, you would always see him across from you as you exited the bathroom, always using the excuse of fixing the pictures that hung on the wall.

Surprisingly, you smugly smirked at him this time. Too amused to react as you waddled past, flipping him off over your shoulder, Peter just shook his head and drifted over to the kitchen.

"Any requests for the chef?" He called out, peering into the refrigerator.

"Please retire from the chef career, because someone who can burn water shouldn't cater to his pregnant wife?" He heard you call back and a grin split his face.

"Agreed, but you can't argue: I make a mean sandwich though!"

"You do. How about you make that then? And more cheese would be amazing." He heard you reply and he grabbed the lunch meat from the shelf.

"What d'you want?" He asked, peering down at his options as he grabbed some bread. "We got ham, turkey— oo! There's even some of the good roast beef left!" Peter opened the bag and took a small sniff. "Nevermind!" He gagged, tossing the meat into the trash and the sound of your laughter buzzed beautifully in his head. "Thats a no-go on the roast beef."

"No, the—mhm!" Peter straightened up so fast he almost hit his head on the bottom of the overhead cabinets at the sound of your pained moan. He quickly twisted to look at you, finding you grasping the back of the couch and slightly hunched as you were holding your belly.

"Are you two okay?" He asked immediately, urgency in his voice, and you just waved your hand at him, letting out a staggered breath as you turned your head to see him already taking steps on your direction.

"We're fine." You told him and smiled. "I was just saying that the sandwich is yours. You forgot to eat lunch because you were too busy ogling me, and if you're gonna go on patrol later, I don't need your stomach waking me up in the middle of the night."

Peter just rolled his eyes, searching through the unorganized silverware drawer for a butter knife so he would have something to spread mayonnaise with. He found a spoon instead. "'Ogling' makes me sound like a creep."

"Says the man that wears a skintight costume and fights bad guys for a living." He heard you let out a soft groan as you sat back down in your spot. "Don't spiders literally just sit around all day and wait for their prey to get caught in their web? You've done that before. I don't know—" you clicked your tongue— "that kinda spells creep to me."

"That's so totally not fair that you get to use something I did years ago against me! It was a stakeout! The whole point is to wait for someone!" Peter tried to stop himself from laughing, looking over his shoulder to see your sarcastic smile scrunching up your face. He failed.

"Hey, I'm just stating the facts." You promptly stated.

"Then you forgot to add just how good I look wearing said skintight suit."

"Don't need a lot of imagination to see what's underneath," You hummed behind him, and Peter remembered to cut you more slices of cheese before he put it away as he added some to his sandwich. "Though I wonder how many people stare at your ass when you swing by." You added as an afterthought.

Peter snorted, searching fridge again for the jar of pickles he swore he saw earlier that week. "Please don't make that a legitimate thought in my head."

"Too late! It's already there!" He rolled his eyes, knowing that you were right. Well, that gave him something to mull over later.

"Are you sure you don't want a sandwich?" He asked, hesitant to put away the ingredients in front of him as he pushed his now finished sandwich to the side next to your plate of cheese, closing the lid on the pickle jar. "I got the stuff right here,"

"Just the cheese, please!"

"Coming right up."

He was by your side soon enough, handing over your plate with his sandwich in one hand—the other resting on your stomach as he whispered encouragements to the baby inside between bites, trying to get her move around.

Peter would be lying if he said he expected his life to be as perfect as it was. Sometimes, he felt like he was living in a dream.

He never exactly knew he could love someone as deeply as he loved you. It was different from how he loved May. From how he loved Tony and Pepper and Morgan and everyone else. It was a type of love that he assumed was only granted to a few lucky individuals. A love for not just you, but for all of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Every flaw and imperfection you thought you had. Never once in his life had Peter looked at you and saw anything but perfection.

And to further that, he never thought he could care about someone so much before they were born. He was so close to becoming a father—any day now, really. Your due date was in a week, and Peter could hardly wait. In a week, an entire brand new person would be introduced into the world. One that he would have a key role in raising. A life among others that Peter would protect at all costs.

It didn't take long for Peter to figure out that this love...this love was the love he saw in the world. The love in waking up to see the sun shining brightly in the sky. In feeling of the wind against his skin. In feeling blades of grass between his fingers and the earth beneath him. The feeling of seeing someone feel important and acknowledged in this large world when you do something as small as giving them a smile and a wave.

All of the indiscernable and irrefutable details that make up life—that love—is what Peter fought for. What he suited up for to protect. And while he had seen it before, having you in his life only amplified his ability to appreciate it all. And he wouldn't know what to do without you. You were an integral part of him now, just as was he to you.

Peter wasn't in the mood to leave you just yet as the sounds of sirens started rose against the sounds of the rain outside, but it was you who urged him to go.

He knew it couldn't have been easy for you, him being Spider-Man — especially now that the both of you were worrying for two — but no matter how many conversations over the years the both of you have had, the conclusion was always the same: there was no way you could ever force Peter to give up doing what he does. Being the hero to the people who don't think they have one.

Not just a hero to the world, but a hero to the men and women who have to walk home alone at night and are scared of every shadow of a person that they pass. To the children who are too afraid to speak up against their abusive families. To the ones who get picked on by their peers for being different. To the single parents working two jobs to support their household.

Spider-Man might help save the world sometimes, or stop a bank robbery or a weapons ring or even an underground mob, but New York City saw him as something more than just another Avenger.

Spider-Man was hope.

And to Peter, that was one of the best things he could ever be. It was why no matter how many times he got knocked down, he always got back up.

Things threatened to get complicated the second Spider-Man had begun to follow the cacophony of sirens. It didn't take long to intercept their route and use zip webs to pick up the pace after finding out who the police were chasing.

Puma had been spotted running rampant on the streets of New York, and Peter knew that Spider-Man had to try to contain him before the police got into a fight they wouldn't be able to win.

The rain stung even through his suit as Peter fought. Charcoal clouds crowded the sky and the winds had picked up as the calming midsummer shower had turned into a violent storm. Although having over two decades to try and find the answer, he still couldn't understand just how fast a situation could change. Just ten minutes ago Peter was sitting in his home with you in his arms. Now he was grappling with a man who had history and a personal grudge against Spider-Man; though he seemed less man and more mountain lion in this particular encounter.

Drowned out by the weather around them, the battle between Spider-Man and Puma was just as thunderous.

It was a vicious dance — one involving slashing claws and gnashing teeth. One Peter could see he was quickly loosing the advantage in.

As the rain poured down harder and harder — the sound being the only thing Peter could hear next to Puma's snarls and Karen's voice in his mask — the more Peter became confined to the ground, where his opponent had the upper hand. Neither Spider-Man or his webs could stick to a surface drenched in water, and the glass of the surrounding buildings had waterfalls streaming down its sides.

Spider-Man had very narrowly dodged a pounce and spun around in time to see Puma skid across the asphalt of the abandoned road before digging his claws into the ground and immediately charging forward, eyes bright and wild.

Peter was rapidly loosing stamina in the game of stay away he was playing as his brain churned, trying to think of a way out of the situation he was in. But Puma was fast and smart, and never gave him a chance to keep his train of thought — the quips long abandoned in exchange for both panic and the determination to come out on top of the fight unscathed.

Vaulting over an overturned car, Spider-Man landed on his back and kicked the vehicle into the air just as Puma had jumped. The thwack that filled the air as the two collided was almost sickening, if he hadn't known that the attack wouldn't be more than a minor hindrance.

Still, it had given him enough time to get farther away as he backspringed up, and therefore, more time to think.

But his thoughts seemed to come to a screeching halt as your picture appeared in the top left of his lenses before racing even faster. Peter knew he had been avoiding the constant thrum of his phone, which he had no doubt they had been messages considering how many he had received over the course of the fight, but a small ball of guilt began to form when he realized those messages had been from you. They had to be. And the matter had to be important if you were now calling the emergency number that connected you directly to his suit.

Jumping to a lamp post, Peter hesitated in whether he should answer the call. On one hand, he was struggling to stay one step ahead of Puma without any distractions, but on the other he knew you only contacted him through Karen if it was something that absolutely couldn't wait and needed him now.

"Peter." His name came out in a gasp over the line, and he almost stumbled at the sound of pain laced in your voice.

A roar, and Puma threw the car off of him, staggering back up and twisting around to find Spider-Man perched in the air.

"Are you okay?" Peter rushed out, fear overwhelming the guilt in his stomach.

"I tried— I tried to wait for you—"

Your labored breaths didn't carry over in any way that put Peter in any ease. Especially when Puma spotted him, and began to stalk his way.

"So you could— so you could fight. I saw on the news..."

Peter flipped off the post as Puma charged into it, and he found his footing on the slick ground. Spider-Man's webs still stuck in matted fur, and he was able to launch himself into the mutates side, flinging Puma into the department store across the street.

"But I can't any longer—"

Peter's eyes darted frantically behind his mask, the thought of what was happening in his absence starting to make itself obvious. "Y/N, are you—"

"The baby, Peter," you gasped out, and Peter could hear the rushed voices of others around you. "She's coming."

In a moment of panic, time seemed to freeze and Peter's mind went blank.

Just how an innocent rain shower turned into a monstrous storm, or how an equal battle threatened to turn into a loosing fight, you had now gone into labor after seemingly being fine before he had left.

Peter wasn't expecting it to be today, although he knew for a fact that due dates were only estimates. He was more than prepared to be a father, but the odds were quickly stacking against him and he was suddenly wracked with fear.

Puma's roar was only registered when it was too late, Peter's spider sense screaming 'get out of the way', but the boy himself having no time to react with anything other than to turn in time to see the beast lunge with an open jaw, and tackle him right to the ground.

Landing on the ground knocked all the air from his lungs, but Peter had more things to worry about than breathing.

The both of them tumbled down the road in circles, each fighting to break free of each other's grasp. Peter held tightly onto Puma's wrists, only just barely keeping the man's claws inches from his face while wrestling with the rest of the bigger body on top of him.

You had hung up, and while Peter didn't know exactly why, he hoped it was because someone else was there with you and decided that you listening to the fight wasn't a good idea — to which he would agree. Although, he hadn't said all he wanted to say to you.

Puma snarled above Spider-Man, fangs snapping closer and closer to his face with every second as Peter was struggling to hold him back.

Dread striked deep into Peter's chest. He couldn't lose this fight, not like this, not today.

Spider-Man couldn't die yet. Too many people needed him to be a light in an otherwise precarious world. The citizens of New York, the Avengers, his Aunt May, you,

His daughter.

Peter knew the dangers that came with being a hero like Spider-Man. He had since Iron Man saved him when he was eight. Since he evacuated NYC in 2012. Since he first donned the mask when he was fourteen. When he blinked into the future and fought in a war to save the world. Peter knew, yet he continued to fight.

Because that's what he did.

He didn't fight just to save the world, he fought so people could keep living. One might think they were the same thing, but if you look closely, there is a difference.

See, living was what Peter fought for. The adventure that was the world and all the pleasures and hardships that came with it. Living was experience.

And there were still a whole lot of experiences Peter still hadn't gotten to live through just yet. He was about to be a father. He had an entirely new future ahead of him, full of all of the crying and laughing and bonding and love that came with parenthood.

He wanted to hold the tiny human being that would soon be born into the world in his arms, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before she would grow up just like he had. He wanted to be there for all of the late night feedings and messy diapers and tantrums, first days of school and nightmares and first kisses. He wanted to raise and shape a life with you just the way your parents had with you, how his aunt and uncle had done with him.

It was rare that Peter ever fought for himself, but he did so now more than ever. Because right now, his wife was in labor, and Peter wasn't going to make an orphan of his daughter. Just as he hadn't made his wife a widow, or have his aunt and the Starks go through the loss of a child.

In a bout of strength, Peter was able to turn the tables.

With a kick up, Spider-Man was able to launch Puma into the sky and to get a good enough grip with two webs to swing him around.

Puma's body hit the pavement with a thud that briefly shook the ground. He still stirred, but was too disoriented to do anything more than try to lift his head.

From there, Peter made quick work of subduing him even further, just as the police began to close in on all sides.

Spider-Man stood over the unconscious body unable to revel in victory. He only stood long enough to make sure Puma would be captured. Then he was gone.

Peter Parker was then by your side in the hospital room in a matter of minutes. He was out of breath and drenched in both rain and sweat, but he had made it. A crowd of familiar faces greeted him, but his priority was you as he immediately took your hand.

For the second time that day, his brain had gone completely blank. But this one was different, denoted by the smile that he wasn't sure was able to leave his lips.

Another picture to file away in his moments to remember was one of you and the baby girl you held in your arms. Tears of happiness pricked at your eyes, your hair was a mess, and you were wearing a hospital gown, but none of that mattered. What did was the smile on your own face as you gazed down at the swaddled baby in your arms, skin bright and flushed from having both just been born and fresh from crying.

Peter leaned over and you turned your head to him, momentarily meeting his eyes. He didn't want to think about the fear you had felt yourself, that he wouldn't have made it to the birth of his daughter, because that hadn't happened. He was here and he had made it and it couldn't have gone any better.

He pressed his lips to yours briefly in a chaste kiss before peering down at the baby in your arms, his own body gravitating to become like a shield to the outside world around the three of you.

Peter's head tilted to the side, and he had to resist the urge to push his hair back and out of his face. His gaze was focused warmly on the tiny human barely as long as his forearm resting calmly in her mothers arms. She was a new face to memorize, with puffy cheeks and eyes squeezed shut and a few strands of brown hair atop her head. Surely, a face that would change tremendously over time, but that didn't matter, because he just took a snapshot of this stage as if he had his camera with him. And it wasn't hard to realize that the look he always saved for you was now extended to one more.

"I love you."

His words were a whisper to his daughter, only able to be heard by her and her mother only.

His words were a promise.

Love is what he lived for. Love is what he fought for. Love is why he survived — why he always will.

Because Spider-Man fought for that love in the world. Because that love made living worth it, because that love was crucial to the experience living granted.

Peter found that love in a lot of things. In the air, the sun, the sky, the trees and the grass. His friends and his family. In a simple thing such as a smile, or a wave, or a hug, or a single word.

Of course he had been scared, but that was all part of the experience. Life isn't life without the experience of fear. But the product of coming out the other end having conquered it was worth so much more in the end. That's why he wasn't afraid to be Spider-Man. That's why he wasn't afraid to love freely and love openly.

He closed his eyes and viewed the still he'd created in his mind.

It was another perfect moment to remember.

The first of his new family.

The first of thousands more.

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Best Nurse In Hawkins [part one]

[[PART TWO]] [[PART THREE]] [[PART FOUR]]

Pairing: Steve Harrington/ Platonic Best Friend Reader

Word Count: 1,731

Requested By: NA

Summary: Steve comes to you after his fight with Jonathan Byers. You're his best friend in the world, so naturally he turns to you for comfort after one of worst days.

Content Warning: Descriptions of Steve's injuries following his fight with Jonathan in season one. Nothing too gratuitous, but it's part of the story. If you see anything else you think I should add, please don't hesitate to let me know.

Or; The three times you fix Steve up after a fight, and the one time you can't.

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Series Masterlist

~~~~

The shrill ring of the phone echoed through your empty home. Well, it wasn't exactly empty. Obviously. You were home, but you were alone. Chemistry book open on the dining room table, notes and worksheets spread around it. Your yellow pencil halted at the sudden noise. You considered letting it ring. But with your parents visiting family in Fort Wayne for the day, you figured you shouldn't ignore it. Just in case. 

"Hello?" You answered, your voice hoarse from lack of use. 

"Hey," a familiar voice groaned. 

"Steve?" 

"Yeah, hi," he sighed. You heard him suck a sharp breath through his teeth. "Can I come over?" 

You had to laugh. "You can always come over." There was a pause, less than a moment. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled weakly. "Be there in ten." The line clicked loudly in your ear. 

You quickly packed up your school work. Tucking papers into the pages of the heavy book and capping your highlighter while you waited for Steve. Normally, the idea of someone interrupting your weekend study sessions would irritate you beyond words. But it was Steve. Steve was different. 

Steve Harrington had been your best friend since middle school. You'd been inseparable for years. Until sophomore year, when he hit his last growth spurt and his acne cleared up. He'd tried to bring you into his world of parties and popularity, but you didn't want any part of it. You were content to sit at home, studying or spending time with family. And he understood. 

He'd shared with you before that the life of the in crowd wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Petty drama, endless one-upmanship, and two faced cliques," was how he described his new found friends over the phone, late into the night after whatever party he was at had ended. 

He never stopped being your Steve, though. No matter what. Sure, sometimes he let his status get to his head. He could be snobby, only when he was egged on by the crowd. But he always found his way back. He always kept his good nature, even if he lost it from time to time. 

Suddenly three soft knocks sounded from your front door. You smiled to yourself as you pictured Steve on the other side. His shy smile as his knuckles rapped against the wood. What greeted you on the other side of the door was a shock, to say the absolute least. 

The first thing you saw was the busted bottom lip. Blood had fallen from it, collecting in the corners of his mouth. Your eyes trailed up his face to the broken skin on the bridge of his nose. Following the trail of blood and bruising you finally saw the worst of it. His left eye was bloodied and swollen almost shut

"Jesus, Steve," you exhaled, opening the door to allow him inside. "What happened to you?" 

"Jonathan Byers," he huffed as you closed the door behind him. "'s my own fault. Just need, like, a bandaid or something." He winced, gesturing vaguely at his face. 

Taking his hand you noticed his knuckles were scraped. He'd landed a few punches of his own, it seemed. You wanted to scold him, if you were being honest with yourself. The whole town knew what Jonathan and Joyce were going through. In a town the size of Hawkins, it would be hard not to.  

But you didn't scold him. You silently took his hand in yours, ignoring the sticky blood that coated your palm. Leading him into the kitchen you set him in the chair you'd just vacated. You searched under the sink for the first aid kit your mother always insisted you'd need someday. You decided that you wouldn't tell her she was right. 

Steve rested his elbows on his knees, his forehead planted to the heels of his hands. You knelt in front of him as you flipped the plastic lid of the kit open, setting it beside you on the tile floor. 

"Wanna talk about it?" There was silence. It was heavy as it hung in the air around you. He didn't want to talk. And you didn't push him to. 

The ripping of the paper packaging was the only noise in the house. You carefully took his hand in yours. He flinched when you applied the alcohol wipe to the broken skin at his knuckles. You blinked up at him, silently apologizing. It probably hurt, but there was no getting around this. 

Once satisfied that his hand was cleaned you moved to his face. You couldn't help but to frown at the state of him. Blood had dried on half of his face, staining his normally perfect skin an ugly shade of red. 

You rose from the floor suddenly. Turning to the sink as sobs threatened to scream through your chest. You hoped he didn't notice. The running of water seemed to cover the sounds of your sniffles. 

When you took your spot back between his open legs you put two fingers under his chin. His eyes met yours as you lifted his face. The heavy air around you was almost too still as you began to press the warm towel delicately to the dried blood that had pooled on the curve of his chin. 

He watched you intently. His eyes fixed on your hand as it moved. When your other hand reached forward to cup his jaw, he seemed to finally relax. His eyes closed as he pressed deeper into your touch. 

You held his face in your hand as you continued your efforts at his wounds. He remained silent, though you thought it must hurt. Blood tarnished the white towel you'd hastily grabbed from a drawer near the sink. 

The only time his eyes opened was when your towel pressed to his cheek. You weren't sure where the blood ended and bruises began. His hazel eyes seemed to burn into yours as you worked. They were hard to ignore. 

The silence became just a bit less stifling, the cleaner he became. It was like shedding the proof of whatever happened had lightened a weight on his shoulders. Once you had cleaned all the dried blood from his wounds you tried to stand. His hand shot up and grabbed the wrist of your hand that was still holding his cheek. You stayed where you were. 

His hand was soft as his thumb pressed to your pulse. He lingered for a moment. Like he was counting the beats. When he finally released his grip your hand fell unceremoniously to your lap. You looked at each other, really seeing one another for what felt like the first time. 

Finally standing, you threw the stained cloth into the trash can. There was no saving it, and you didn't have the energy to try. You ripped a paper towel from the roll and made yourself comfortable, one again, between his knees. You softly patted the towel to his skin. 

"It was my fault." Steve suddenly repeated. His voice was so low, so soft that you weren't sure if he meant to say it. "I'm such an asshole sometimes." 

You opened a tube of antibiotic cream, squirting a dot onto your ring finger. "Wanna tell me what happened?" You asked, matching his tone as you held his cheek in your hand once more to hold him still. 

"It was Tommy's idea," he started, not missing the quick roll of your eyes at the mention of the other boys name. "But I'm the one who did it. I'm the one who got up on that damn ladder. I'm the one who pushed him." 

"You pushed Tommy?" 

"Jonathan." You nodded, a silent 'oh' on your lips. Your fingers worked tenderly at his broken skin. "I pushed him, and he finally hit back." 

You pulled your hands from his face. The sudden lack of contact was cold against his face. He was quiet, watching as you retrieved more cream from the open tube in the kit on the floor. "Kids got a hell of a punch," he said, almost smiling at how stupid he felt about the whole interaction. 

"So, why?" You asked. He hummed, his brows furrowing at your question. "Why'd you get in a fight with Jonathan?" Your hands found his face once more as you continued to apply the cream to his wounds. 

He sighed deeply. His shoulders fell, relaxing beneath his sweater. "He was flirtin' with Nance." 

That shocked you. Steve had never been like this before. He'd been cocky and rude sometimes, sure. But jealousy was new. You didn't like it. 

Your hands fell to your lap as you looked at him. "So you beat up a kid whose brother just died… Because he was flirting with a girl you've been dating for what? A week?" 

"It-" he started, looking away from you as he took a breath. "It just- Tommy had the idea and I was so mad," he told you. His eyes were bouncing off of every surface in your kitchen. He was looking everywhere but you. "It was stupid. It- it was stupid, okay?" 

You were quiet. You didn't have words, honestly. Anger replaced the sadness that had taken over your body when you saw him at your doorstep. 

"I don't know what goin' on with me lately," he confessed in a hushed tone. 

"Tommy Hagan is what's goin' on," you said. "Listen, you know I love you, right?" You asked, moving your head so that he had no choice but to look at you. He nodded. "'Cause I do. You're my best friend. Always will be, but ever since you started hanging around him and his little shithead friends, you haven't been acting like yourself." 

"I know." 

"I know you know!" You told him with a small smile. "That's why it's so frustrating to watch." 

"For what it's worth, I don't think he'll be around anymore," he sighed. "Pretty much told him and Carol both to fuck off." 

"It's about damn time," you laughed, lightly tapping his knee with your fist. "I want my lil old Stevie bear back." 

"You got him, honey," he smiled. 

"Good," you answered, your own smile growing to match his. "Now go get changed and get your girl back. And tell Jonathan that you're sorry." You told him, your voice becoming stern. "For everything." 

~~~~~

This is part one of a four part series I've been working on for a while. I really hope you all enjoy this little story.

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, or would like to be tagged in future Stranger Things fics, please let me know. Have a great weekend! 🥰

Tag List: @manyfandomsfanvergent @paradoxicalconundrum

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

The beginning of "Tenders and Turntables" is one of the best, goldenest bits of storytelling in the TVS. Mike and Junior's score helping build the tension and drama? The big three stomping about their work all grumpyface? The coaches laughing at them unsympathetically? The close-up on the Fat Controller's "oh-god-running-a-railway-is-so-exhausting-pls-send-help" face? *chef's kiss*

But the way the first page of Troublesome Engines sets up the saga in RWS is delightful too.

Henry and Gordon were lonely when Thomas left the Yard to run his Branch Line. They missed him very much.

They had more work to do. They couldn't wait in the Shed till it was time, and find their coaches at the platform; they had to fetch them. They didn't like that.

Edward sometimes did odd jobs, and so did James, but James soon started grumbling too. The Fat Controller kindly gave Henry and Gordon new coats of paint (Henry chose green), but they still grumbled dreadfully.

There's so much to unpack in that last paragraph...

We see James start off in the shiny "golden child" role he ended with two books ago, and then discarding all that hard-won character development in favor of joining the Dark Side... in one sentence.

And then TFC tries to stop the bleeding. By bribing Henry and Gordon.

"How about a da-dum-da-dum new coat of paint?"

"ALWAYS 👀"

"Cool. Now that's done, will you please just... do what you're told, and stop turning my carefully-nurtured new recruits into, well, you two?"

"No 💖"

Topham is just losing control over the situation rapidly. And I cackle, every time.

It's even funnier because, unlike TVS, we go from this familiar bit straight into the story with the circus and Henry and the elephant. So on the next page it's like 'But they stopped grumbling when the circus came to town! Because Tidmouth is only big enough for one circus, that's why. So instead they all jumped at the chance to shunt those special trucks. And everything was peaceful! for like one paragraph and then we had a new dust-up...'

Anyway. Workplace drama is fun when you're not involved in it.

[urtrashwaifu]

The Empress’ Order - Chapter 1

Prince!Chifuyu x Reader (Royal AU)

I have been obsessed with royal au’s lately so here we go, time to start a series. 

Words: 1495 

You remember life when it was easier, when you were just children. Titles didn’t matter and no one hated each other for their status, all that mattered was that you were young and happy. Childhood doesn’t last long for some though. Sometimes, class does matter, especially the lower you go. 

At ten years old you began working on the palace grounds with your grandmother. You had lived with her your entire life, she raised you as your mother passed in childbirth and your father left your mother once discovering she was pregnant. 

When you turned 16 your grandmother passed away, leaving you alone and continuing to work within the palace. She worked primarily for the Empress, Empress Anise, who loved your grandmother and considered her not merely a maid but a friend as well, and took care of her in her old age as well as brought you up with a mild education. 

Here you stood, 5 years later staring from a distance at the pearly white casket. It was adorned with the finest jewels and flowers. She was a very well loved woman and reigned over Ebi for many years, marrying into the Matusno Dynasty at a young age. She reigned until three years ago when she fell ill and handed the royal duties down to her only child. Her son, Asuka Matsuno stood somberly with his wife, Yui. She was the new Monarch of Ebi, and looked shaken. You felt a chilled wind blow and only then realized the tears stricken on your face. 

You felt bad for her, she had big shoes to fill and was always known as a quieter yet progressive woman. She was brilliant but yet still paled in comparison to the prior Empress to the people outside of the palace. Your eyes drift to the grandson of Anise, Chifuyu. He was quiet like his mother, but had a similar appearance to his father. Short black hair, shaved underneath, lean in build but evident strength lurked in his muscles. 

His eyes rose and made contact with yours, you looked away. You had never been very close to the prince but his best friend was another story. When you were kids, Baji and you were close. The older you got the closer you seemed, however, Baji was a military advisor to the King and his son and was often busy. However, when he was able to visit the palace or return home, he spent time with you, catching up and ensuring you had everything you needed. 

As the ceremony came to a close you resumed your duties in the palace, turning over the beds of the Emperor and Empress and tending to laundry. You hauled the heavy begging through the servants halls and into the washing room, leaving it to the servants that tended that room. Finished your afternoon chores, you went to your quarters, small and tucked away on the farest end of the palace, grabbing a book and sitting in your windowsill. 

Your book became lighter on your right side the longer you read, flipping through the pages. A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You called, the other maids often came to your room for questions or help since you had been here since you were a child. When your eyes flickered to the doorway, you dropped your book, instantly bowing. 

“Your Grace, I apologize. I wouldn’t have spoken so casually if I would have known it was your highness.” You said, raising only slightly from your bow. “Oh come now y/n, you make me red.” Empress Yui smiled, offering a hand to help you up. You smiled, rising to your feet. “What can I assist you with your Grace?” you asked bowing a quarter once more. 

“I actually came to check on you. I saw you during the ceremony, you seemed saddened, more so than some of the other maids and servicemen. How are you doing?” She asked. You smiled and felt a little lightwinded from her question. It was foolish for ladies of such high stature, especially the Empress to involve herself in the emotions of a maid. “I am fine your Grace, but how are you? Could I bring you tea?” you asked. She smiled, “Only if you will join me.” 

This time an audible scoff passed your lips, now she was being preposterous. “You Highness, I am not worthy of-” You stopped when her face twisted, “Nonsense! In Anise’s name, you are more than worth. Please, join me for tea, in my quarters.” You smiled, you liked this side of Empress Yui. “At once.” she smiled, turning on her heel to leave you. You nodded to yourself and retreated to the grand kitchens to fetch the tea. 

As you backed into the doorway, you made sure not to make much noise with the silver tray and items on it. You walked through the large doorway to the Empress’ champers, where she was sitting at a small day table near the window. You smiled warmly at her, bowing. She smiled as you sat the tea down. “I know Sencha is your favorite so that is what I prepared.” She hummed in response. 

Once you were seated at the table and served the tea, you looked at Yui. She sipped her tea and cleared her throat as you sipped yours. “Y/n, you are a maid, correct?” You nodded, “yes ma'am.” She cocked her head to the side a bit. “Why?” Your mind was blank for a second. “I was born without either parent, so naturally I fell to my grandmother. She was a maid here, to Anise, so I was born into it. I am happy though.” You smiled. She returned your smile warmly. “I understand.” 

“I also understand that you know how to read, is this correct?” You nodded as well, becoming slightly nervous. Maids were not to read, it was traditional but a general rule none the less. “Where did you learn to read?” You swallowed, “Empress Anise allowed me to attend school, along with other palace children when we were young. She made sure I stayed in good company of books and encouraged the learning of science and history.” 

Empress Yui smiled brighter now. “You learned with Baji and Chifuyu, Kazutora and the others?” You nodded sheepishly, understanding their comparison to you was foolish. “I would like to expand the number of women in our country that attend schooling and understand basic knowledge of how to read and write. What better way than to begin within our own palace?” She asked with a smile and a shrug. 

You smiled alongside her but were still slightly confused. “I think that is a brilliant idea you highness, however, I am not sure what this has to do with me?” you said the last part quietly not to offend her. “Oh yes, that’s right. Y/n, your knowledge and talents are going to waste making beds and cleaning floors. I request you, immediately as a Lady of the Court. From this day forth, you hold noble status among our empire.” 

Your eyes must have been as wide as saucers. “I, Are you sure Empress?” you asked with a light laugh tagging along to the last few words. “I have never been more certain.” She smiled, proudly. “Now, I believe you have some moving to do. I would like you with my other nobles, in the high court by this evening. I will arrange for a servant to bring your things. Hana!” She called. A small girl peeked into the chambers. “Please escort Lady Y/n to one of our empty Noble chambers, and arrange for her things to be brought to her new room.” Hana smiled, “Yes your Grace.”

You stood, gathering the tea tray. “Ah Ah!” She clapped at you. I will arrange for this to be taken care of, please, enjoy your new room now.” Yui gestured to Hana. You smiled, nodding and thanking her. “Yes your Grace.” You smiled as you left. Hana led to you the East Wing of the palace. There were more windows, a better view, more art and historical pieces here. She pushed open a door, guiding you in. “Here are your chambers Lady Y/n. May I do anything else to serve you?” She asked. You smiled, “No thank you Hana.” she bowed before leaving shutting the doors behind her. 

You gazed around the room. Your windows overlooked the gardens and a shimmering lake. The linens on your bed were fine and the room smelt of the roses that lingered in the garden below. You smiled, taking in a deep breath before the doors clattered open. You turned in surprise, “Noble?! Lady of the Court? Who would have thought??” His eyes scanned you before running to you in a hug. “Baji!” you squealed. He sat you down, cupping your face in his calloused hands. “Tell me everything I have missed!”

Stay tuned for the rest of this series. 

[smreine]

The Rare and Delightful Mirror-Book

For the first time, I open a book and I find a mirror inside. I’ve heard that you can find mirrors in books, sometimes; most of my friends have had it happen at least twice, and Angelina from across the street has it happen so often she probably doesn’t know that books are actually made of paper.

But this is my first time, and it’s spectacular. I see a face I know inside the book: a round face, the freckles Mom always called constellations, my inquisitive eyes (which I have always thought are my best feature), and hair that looks like it belongs to a street dog.

I don’t look like a street dog in the reflection. Somehow, in this context, I look like an unruly adventurer. The impish smile that gets me into so much trouble belongs to someone exciting! Someone, perhaps, with a pirate’s hat and a sword—or maybe a wizard hat and staff, or—

My reflection moves even though I do not. From the mirror extends a hand that is just like mine. The fingernails are chewed down to the quick. Of course I take it; I’ve never had the chance before, and I won’t miss it now.

When I fall through the mirror, I find myself wearing a familiar costume: shining armor that matches the bright-silver fur of the horse beside me. I’ve always read about knights in shining armor. But never have I fallen straight into those clankity-boots to find my face reflected back in the polished shield mounted to my horse’s hip. I look good as a knight in shining armor. I wouldn’t have expected that.

The horse lets me mount, because I’m good with horses—who knew I could be good with horses?—and skillfully do I ride up the mountain, urging her onward.

“Let’s go, Streakfire!” I say. “Let’s go!”

We fly together, like I never knew I could fly, and the whole world of the story falls out below me. There are villages below filled with people who need to be saved, and I’m the only one who can do it—me! In the forests await adventures I’ve seen others survive. Hardship awaits in the darkest caverns and deepest tunnels, but it’s only the kind of hardship which proves I can handle anything.

My horse and I arrive at the mouth of a dragon’s cave, and this part, I dread. I know how others have done this. I know I should kill the dragon. But oh! He’s beautiful! He rears above me with multifaceted scales that catch the sunlight as surely as my armor.

The dragon asks, “What do you want?”

“I came to see if you need anything,” I say.

“You don’t want to hurt me?”

“Never.” And I’m shocked that I can say that, because the story shouldn’t progress that way. I never thought it should. I didn’t like it. I wanted the heroes to be nice—like I’m nice—but so often the books just don’t do that.

This is my mirror in my book, my life in my book, and I never draw my sword against the dragon.

The chapter ends with a long talk between the two of us. Streakfire eats grass at the mouth of the cave and I make my favorite pie for the dragon to eat. I love every minute, every word, every turn of the page. To think that someone like me would make friends with a dragon!

When it’s time to close the book, I slip out of the mirror, and I hug this beautiful thing to my heart. I disappeared for hours. At last, I found myself in a story. At last I could go into the mirror, like so many others do, and at last I can see myself as something else. It won’t be the last time, either. The dragon still waits in chapter two.

[dethkomic]

Writin’ Comics and Junk: Part 3 - Comic Compositionin' (Part 1)

Well, hey there pals! Are you stoked to be starting Issue #6? I sure am! The pages to come will be kicking our story into high gear in very short order, so make sure you stick around!

The next Dethkomic update will be Friday, April 14th, 2023!

That's all we have for announcements right now! So if that's all you came for, you are dismissed! For the rest of you, I thought we'd talk about the specifics of turning a story into a comic book, today!

A brief primer on comic book anatomy

Comic books, like most things, have their own language when it comes to describing their construction. So that means I'm going to start saying some words that might not make a lot of sense to everyone. But fear not! I have come with visual aids!

1. The Panel - Just what you think it is. A pane of story. Each panel is itself a whole "beat" while simultaneously being part of a bigger picture. Storytelling with comics means putting the best snapshot of a scene into each frame and stringing them together in such a way that they remain cohesive, no matter how different each one is.

2. Dialogue Balloon - Or word balloon or speech bubble or whatever other name you want to call it. A lot of times, your panel layout and the decisions you make for what to include within your panel will rely on your dialogue (or absence thereof - see panel one). I don't just mean what's being said, but also how much. It's important to leave enough space for your words, after all!

3. Gutter - The space between panels. Sometimes stuff crosses into these areas, but usually this just serves to break up each scene. In this tutorial, I'll mostly use the term gutter to describe the "border" or "edge" of a panel area.

4. (Pointy) Dialogue Balloon - This is here to show you that dialogue balloons can come in many shapes and sizes! The edge here implies there is shouting. Have fun with these when you feel like doing so... Me personally? I've kinda taken the lazy approach on Dethkomic II's word balloons. They're all circles. Which is also fine!

5. Action Lines - Or motion lines, or whatever other words you might have for them. You wouldn't see these in real-life, but they help to push the idea of something in action, or something hitting with great impact.

6. Sound Effects - Just what they say they are. Use liberally in a comic about heavy metal.

7. This is a Bear.

8. Dialogue Boxes and Voiceovers - I play it pretty loose with these and the rules of when to use one over the other. Basically, they're the same thing as a Dialogue Balloon, except the person speaking isn't in the panel. Typically, I'll use boxes when someone is so far away from the panel, they'd need to travel a significant distance (or through time) to be there, hence giving the feeling of a voiceover. Sometimes, though, if someone is close by, or what's being said is a continuation of something said on a previous panel, I'll just throw a balloon around the dialogue and leave the tail off. The speech is usually attributed to the last person who was talking, but so long as it is clear who's saying the words (or if it doesn't matter/needs to remain ambiguous), you can use either to great effect in "carrying over" a scene to the next.

9. Text Boxes and Captions - In Dethkomic, I color these darker than the dialogue boxes so it's clearer that they're meant as footnotes and not being "said" in the story. Good for things like editorial asides, translations, and setting-shifts.

As usual, there's more stuff that makes up a comic than just these thingies, but you'll see me refer to the above list of items the most when I talk about drawing up a comic page.

So, now that you know a little about the components of a comic book page and some of the basics about using each, effectively -- let's get down to the business of:

Laying out the panels in a way that best tells the story

As I said in the definition, panels are their own little beat and their own composition. While they can capture a moment on their own and make a great big sexy impact when they do -- they must stay true to the overall big picture of the comic's story as a whole. You probably don't realize it when you read most professionally published comics, but a lot of work goes into the ease by which you travel from one section of a page to the next. Transitioning is a hard thing to teach, but it's an integral part of making a comic successful. To that end, there are several pointers for working out an entire page of visual story, and getting it to translate seamlessly from top to bottom.

First, it's imperative to understand how comics are read. I'm going to be using the same page of story from Dethkomic's first issue to illustrate my points as I go. Feel free to check it out, here.

In the above example, we see how the page "flows" to the reader. And just in case you don't know, comic books in the United States typically read left to right, then top to bottom. The reader would read the first row of panels, first, then they would move on to the second and third.

Within each panel, the reader also reads left to right, top to bottom. Generally, you want to try setting up your word balloons with this in mind. There are exceptions (like the fighting that goes on in 5th panel of page 16 -- you can read any of those balloons, first. The order isn't the important part) Occasionally having your eyes go to the left is pretty forgivable (and sometimes necessary) in a panel, but note that the only time the reader's eyes go *up* is noted by the arrows, moving to the next panel.

Keep these things in mind, as one of the best ways to assure your panels are making sense and everything is coming together correctly as a whole, is to layout the entire page, first. That is -- treat the whole comic page as a picture. You can go in and work on individual panels, after the page layout is complete.

I start by making thumbnails -- little sketches of the layout, based on my script. It's a good way to see if things will work and fit the way I like.

I actually did an ask on this back here, and there's a few pointers in that post that might be of use to you at this point, too. The basic points are to convey the page's overall "beat" first, and work on the nuances of layout while keeping things as a whole in focus.

Basically, by this point you are going to try cramming as much of your script into the thumbnail as possible. Notice I say "as much of it..." because yeah -- edits will happen. The way I write, this usually means cutting things out, but it could also mean extending them. You begin to get a "feel" for storytelling in this way the more you do it, so don't be put off your project if it's not natural for you to try to work visuals and story together in this way. It just takes practice.

As to how you go about laying your panels out, I like to build on one panel and work around it as a focal point. I tend to think about a page this way:

What is *the scene* for this page? If there's one very special scene that ties everything going on within the page together, consider making this your focus point.

Are we entering a new area? If so, it'd be nice to have an establishing shot to establish exactly where the characters are. This is a shot that pulls the camera back a bit, letting the audience get a good glimpse of the surrounding area and where everyone is within it.

Is there any other important information we should be paying attention to? If you don't have *the scene* and if you don't necessarily need to establish where people are, then consider focusing on the point in the page that'll otherwise have the biggest impact on the story, going forward.

Now that you have your point of ultimate impact on the page, it's time to think about its individual layout as well as the layouts of all the other panels that go around it...

Laying out the story in a way that best tells the story

I'll get WAY more into this next time, but there's a lot that goes into comic book layouts beyond just "character A and character B are shown talking to each other". So what do I mean by this? Basically, laying out the story is laying out the nuances your audience can pick up on in order to tell how things are proceeding and where their eye should go next, etc. These are small things, but again, they can have a big impact on how your story is told. Some quick tips on story layout:

Change the size of your characters

Move your camera around

Don't cut characters off

Leave more room than needed

And I think this'll be a good place to pick up on the individual nuances of "directing" a comic, next update! As usual, thanks for reading and I hope you found this tutorial to be useful!

See you in a little over a week! And remember! Dethkomic loves you!