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stormxpadme · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 No. 13 - Fracture

1991

"So? Whose brilliant idea was it, parking a second ship in our one-vehicle hangar instead of on the roof like a normal person?"

Hank had only just got around to sitting his reluctant patient down in a chair in the sick bay's lobby because of course, the man refused to lay down in a damn examination room at least for five minutes when the door to said lobby opened right again, revealing an exceptionally irritated look on a certain team leader's face. Scott had his nose buried in the display of a digital camera, rapidly skimming through a couple of images the nature of which wasn't hard to guess, and only looked up briefly in between to navigate his way past any obstacles of lifeless and human kind on respectable distance as usual, not paying overly much attention to who else was in the room except for the man he'd come to complain to. "Have you seen this, Professor? Whatever idiot that was, clipping half of the Blackbird's left wing, I hope they're loaded enough to pay for that damage. This is two weeks of nightshift, at least, and that's after I wrote a three pages statement for extraordinary hull supply to U.G.E.R. … What?" Finally realizing everyone was staring at him in a combination of amusement, resigned leniency, and a good deal of secondhand embarrassment, Scott finally lowered the camera, looking from Charles to where Jean and Hank were busy preparing everything they needed for the complicated short-term procedure before it finally clicked that the fourth person in the room wasn't part of his team, a pupil or staff. For a moment, the skin around Scott's prominent cheekbones had a color not entirely unlike his glasses. "Uh."

"The idiot would be me, I guess." Hank's patient raised his good hand briefly at the new arrival, more tiredly than offended, and slipped out from between Jean and Hank in a agile motion table to march over to the next best drug cabinet on the wall. "You don't mind, McCoy, do you? This is starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Never mind me. You people sort out your repair schedule while I pop a couple of these."

"Hey, you can't just …" Too dumbstruck to react in time, Hank could only watch their guest uncork a jar with some of the strongest painkillers he kept in this room with his teeth before downing no less than three of them dry, his mangled other arm pressed closely to his chest, more blood by the second and a few unappetizing traces of white showing on and through the torn fabric of his tight uniform sleeve. "Sure. Be my guest. I'll just make an educated guess about your pain level." With a good-natured eye roll, Hank pointed down on the chair again and booted up the particle tissue scanner he'd need to pull out everything of that ruin of a wrist that had splintered off when the foreign pilot had taken a tumble from some roof in New York earlier. It would be a challenge, mending these bones back into their original shape even with Shi’ar-tech, but it was also good training, not least for Jean who could still use a lot of practice after rushing through med school on a run of flawless As in record time, as expected.

That was, if Hank could get that young man to actually hold still long enough in his impatience to continue his quest, to let himself be patched up. Then again, this was a team leader he hadn't got to know any differently at their previous meetings, one not entirely similar in his tenacity and uncompromising sense of duty to the very guy he'd just managed to put in place there in front of his girlfriend and his adoptive father. So Hank had a certain kind of routine with handling these things by now. "Jean, you want to get some scissors and get our young Captain here out of his clothes? I'm afraid I can't come up with anything to put that back together," he added with a vague gesture over the shredded red top, where even the impressive numbers of medals and patches had been soaked in alarmingly much rust.

"That's alright. It's all on the government's tab." His patient threw him a weak grin, his words starting to slur already with the substances running through his blood. A friendly, only mildly sardonic expression growing even deeper when his narrow green eyes darted back to where Scott was still standing at the exit with an even stiffer posture than usual and a downcast glance, visibly mortified by his little faux pas, whether he had actually realized with what prominent figure it had happened with or not. "So, no worries about your Professor's yearly expenses, soldier. I happen to have quite good relations with U.G.E.R., in fact. So your baby in that hangar is going to be back in factory condition in no time. I'm not usually entertaining the habit of crashing other people's jets but as you can see, my landing skills have been slightly compromised earlier." He nodded down on his arm with a grimace and then leaned his head against the chair's backrest with an unnerved sigh, his usually so energetic, straight posture – that indeed was also mimicking a lot of the forceful control Scott had trained himself into in the last few years, to be more comfortable with the ever-present danger of his powerful mutation – slumping a little as his exhaustion from injury and medication grew. "Fuck, that's just what I needed today. I was so close to tracking Ming down this time. Any chance you guys can get me back on the road before midnight?" His gaze went Jean's way at those words, probably because he knew from his few encounters with Hank before that Hank had very little patience with people wanting to know everything better than their doctors. His brows furrowed in a slightly disconcerted expression that Hank couldn't quite place when he saw Jean pull said rescue cutters close along with a small sterile dish using her powers, her eyes half closed, her gaze firmly aimed at the counter she was reaching out for.

Noticing being watched with a bit of scrutiny, Jean almost dropped the cutters but could catch it in time and put everything down next to her on a small reading table. Her own cheeks were a little reddened now as she was sitting down next to the patient. "Sorry, still training my powers as you can see, so I tend to use every chance for that. I'm not using them for treatments, though, don't worry."

"I wouldn't have come here instead of flying up to U.G.E.R. for a bit of Shi’ar-tech to profit from if I had a problem with your kind, Doctor Grey." The young man gave her a dismissive smile that too seemed a little forced around the edges, but that might only be the growing discomfort from Jean gently starting to peel the layers of his top and undershirt off him before reaching for a pair of pliers she'd need to pry whatever scraps and dirt were left in that ugly open fracture. ”Scott, if there's nothing else you needed?" A good deal of mirth was glistening in Jean's eyes when she looked up at her partner. "I would like to at least try to keep this room as sterile as possible, seeing as our guest here refuses to use the operating theatre. Must be a pilot thing, that allergy to reasonable treatment. This is Flash Gordon, by the way."

"I kind of figured that out." Scott had finally found his ability to speak again and apologized for his rude entrance with an honestly revered-looking small bow Flash's way. Not the ideal way to meet one of your idols, admittedly. "Scott Summers. Resident idiot. We've been hearing a lot about you and your team's heroic missions around here, Captain. Let me buy you a coffee before you leave, will you?"

"The day I say no to coffee, know you're dealing with a shapeshifter with my face." Flash began to sound more tired by the minute but managed to keep that polite smile for his only slightly younger admirer up. "I'll come to see you in the hangar as soon as I have all bones of my hand back. Then we can take a look at that wing. You did a really good job with the Shi’ar alterations on that old Lockheed, but my job happens to get me up there and to our alien sponsors more often than you guys, obviously. There's still a little room for improvement. I can give you a few tips if you like."

"I'll wait for you there." An endearing, rare broad smile on his lips, Scott finally turned to leave, not without a small pout at his partner though, his fingertips tapping his temple for a moment. "You know, you could have warned me, Jean."

"And miss that look on your face? Not a chance." Jean chuckled quietly to herself and reached for Flash's injured arm then, cautiously placing it on the sterile cloth she'd spread over her legs to start picking all those objects from the wounds. With that look of intense concentration on her face, visible even through the shadow that the miniature particle scanner she'd attached to her glasses threw on her face, to help her not miss a single part, Hank didn't think she saw that next clear shadow of concern on Flash's pale face at that last little exchange of hers with her partner. "Hm? Yes. Nowhere near Charles' level though," she nodded slightly absently when Flash asked her about the other part of her power set. "So, definitely not reading your mind."

"Not what I was worried about." But Flash was definitely falling weirdly quiet now, and it would have been too easy, putting it on the drugs. Both during the cleaning and the even more grating but thanks to more numbing shots bearable realignment and mending of bones afterward, his posture stiffened whenever Jean came a little too close during her assisting. Hank caught him turn his head away several times where he'd read about this young man thrusting bones back into place with his bare hands and sewing up his teammates with basically two shoelaces and a pair of chopsticks if needed. He wasn't too surprised when Flash asked Jean to leave the moment the treatment was over, with the very shallowly veiled excuse that he had a couple of confidential messages from the Shi’ar and U.G.E.R. headquarters to talk about with Charles and Hank.

Jean didn't seem to think a lot of it and left with her soft smile the pilot's way still in place; then again, she'd always been a lot less attentive regarding certain information policies in this house, just like her young teammates, than Hank himself was even still in the mood to after all this time.

And Flash seemed to be similarly annoyed by Charles occasionally being not exactly generous with sharing crucial facts and developments with his most important partners. He could hardly hold back long enough to wait for the door to close behind Jean before he turned to where his old friend had watched the whole exchange from a silent corner, unusual enough given that Charles usually had far too much to do to sit by a patient. "Does the Empress know you're having a telepath-telekinetic in your house, Xavier?"

Charles' face hardened immediately, a sharp headshake in Hank's direction letting him know, any kind of interference in this unexpected critical interrogation regarding an innocent 21 years old was not welcome on his side, no matter what Hank himself thought about that. "The Empress receives, under the seal of utter confidentially, every data about the mutant population on Earth in exchange for her race's selfless protection from intergalactic threats. You should know the details of this kind of arrangement, Gordon. You've been there when we signed it, and most of the files we deliver to the Empire travel by your ship."

"Often enough to know, Empress Lilandra tends to turn a blind eye to overly generalized summaries especially of the operations in your home, yes. It's not for nothing the Empire has filed several bias petitions against her since she entered a partnership with you on a far more personal level than your files say, Xavier." Flash only had a brief but grateful nod for Hank to spare when Hank finished wrapping the last bandage around his arm and helped him put it in a brace for as long as the young man would have patience with keeping it on, which depending on the urgency of his next orders could range anywhere from 10 minutes to at least half a night. But his attention was fixed on the other side of the room.

"Three of them, yes, and every single of those petitions have died a dishonorable formal error death before even the first of majority Council voting, as we both know." Charles still hadn't moved from his spot, and his face was just as blank, with just the smallest twitch around his eyes that Hank after all this time knew a little too well for comfort.

Flash let out a bitter snort. "Gee, I wonder why. The Empress has her ways of shutting down unloved voices of critics, as we all know. What's your preferred poison, Xavier? Are you going to just wipe my mind clean off the fact that you have a possible threat to all life under your roof?" The young man's eyes were wide open in warning and awareness, and Hank didn't miss the way, his fingertips were circling the small round surface of an as-of-yet deactivated communicator on his belt.

Hank hadn't had the pleasure yet of meeting the rest of that small team of space travelers Gordon had acquired for his larger missions far from Earth not too long ago. But he'd read enough about them to know they would not hesitate to take the next plane here the moment they thought their leader was in trouble. And that was the last kind of trouble a home for troubled children needed.

"Charles." Hank drew his upper lip back between his fangs in a warning growl of his own. In the course of the years, he'd run out of strength, not least because of his own personal tragedies robbing him of a lot of it, to fight his old friend on a couple of fronts where they would never find a common base of opinion on. It was useless; Charles would never change, and Hank could either accept that or leave this mansion behind, these children and young warriors and a good cause he loved so much. He wasn't ready to do that. But he would also not stand by watching all of that being threatened just because the Principal of this damn Institute refused to let go of his damn pigheadedness and exaggerated secrecy for one goddamn second.

Something in the way, Hank's posture on his chair had also tensed, and maybe the simple fact that he had audio and video recording in this room activated on principles for gatherings like this, chased that look of dark, intense focus on his powerful abilities from Charles' eyes before he could be tempted to use them, and he raised his hands in a slightly too dramatic gesture of defeat. "These are not my methods. You should know me better after all these years, Gordon. The Empress trusts me and so does the majority of the Council, in spite of all understandable reservations about Empress Lilandra's and my courtship. Maybe you should try the same for once. As I said, the Empress is well-informed about every individual calling this house their home, and she's welcome anytime to visit this Institute herself, should she ever find herself in a place not trusting my judgment regarding my pupils."

Flash let out another unfriendly snort but at least leaned back in his chair again with a resigned headshake. "You know as well as I do, no Shi’ar will ever set foot on an underdeveloped world."

"Less underdeveloped than you give our species credit for, Captain, or we would not be on the radar of these people." Charles seemed to be of the opinion this discussion was over and finally made his way to the door himself, even if it was only to escape Hank's now only even more confused and irritated glances. "There are a lot of threats for humanity both on this Earth and out there, Gordon, but a class 2 mutant with zero confidence in her own powers is not one of them. Try to get some rest before you get back out there. The hospitality of my home always extends to Earth's fiercest defenders."

Even without a lot more talk before he released his patient to his assigned bedroom, Hank highly doubted that was an offer that would be accepted.

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@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

#no.13 #Fracture #x men #fic #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #flash gordon #hank mccoy #charles xavier #jean grey #stormys fanfics #long post #Scott Summers #Cyclops #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

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everlastingdreams · 3 years

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Finally got some time to work on chapter 3-4 or whatever chapter it is.

Please know that I wrote for chapter like... 8 or something weeks ago already lol.

I am a horrible writer tbh. My phone is filled with pages and pages of notes for this series. And everytime I check the notes I go like this:

And then I went “This is missing something...”

Y’all it was missing drama so I added more.

I just realised this fic needs more murder as well.

Gotta think to add some more.

Weeping Monk be like :

princess/reader be like :

I’m going for a princess/reader that does stupid shit but is too proud to admit it. But knows damn well some stuff is a stupid idea lol

You can blame it on being nervous around eachother in this fic.

#weeping monk x you #weeping monk x reader #cursed weeping monk #also Imma hide this in the tags but this fic started with an idea of some tension filled scene #like #this shit was born from a smutty-ish scene I wanted to write but had not proper story around yet #and here we are #also prepare for secondhand embarrassment moments #We going on a roller coaster ride #Wm VS.... ?

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

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The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

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pixxyofice · 3 years

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Luz Noceda in Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Hooty's Door

aka oh my god this girl has been bullied

I think about many things when i watch this show and Luz Noceda is one of them. My mind hops between many topics, but one i keep thinking about is how, in luz’s part of this episode, she just. slowly spirals. not helped by hooty at all. I keep going over her part and pointing out where her mental state is and i think it’d be interesting to line it out for people.

Is this partially projection? maybe. but i WAS a bullied kid with (undiagnosed) adhd when I was her age, sooo...

so luz wants to ask out amity. this is pretty clear. she’s stressing about it, as young teens like her tend to do. she wants it to be perfect, she wants it in her cheesy little heart. but also... everyone back home said she was cheesy... can’t let amity think the same?

after amity had kissed her on the cheek?

This might be speculation on my part, but maybe she wants it to be perfect and “not cheesy” because she doesn’t want Amity to see her doing Luz Things and go ‘i don’t like her anymore’. Like I’m sure Luz has experienced in the past.

yeah. after thinking about that, even on a subconscious level, her mood’s not in the best place. and then hooty comes in and tries to help and just ends up kicking all over her trauma. the hooty letter being initially negative probably didn’t help very much.

So Luz is like ‘whatever, guess i’ll follow whatever Hooty’s doing and go to the basement we apparently have’, goes down there, initially thinks a lamp shadow is amity, calms down seeing it’s not, and then OOPS AMITY IS ACTUALLY THERE.

as, ah, someone with adhd, luz not being prepared at all to see Amity is probably another thing that hooty messed up with his plan here regarding who he’s helping. like with him trying to do a ‘you are you’ message with king and just putting eda to sleep with sleeping nettles, him just dumping amity there and luz not being able to prepare herself the way she wants to probably sent luz’s nerves spiraling just a bit.

Then.

Amity wants Luz to forget about the kiss. Amity’s regretting it.

Luz doesn’t let Amity finish her sentence and tries to divert the topic but oh boy! this does NOT help her fears at all! and, ah, rejection sensitive dysphoria that kicks in when you’re expecting to be rejected my fucking beloathed.

Luz isn’t going to confess after that, it’s just gonna be awkward and stuff, get Amity out the basement and apologize for Hooty again, cry about how someone else changed their mind about you later-

... only for this to happen. and luz is expecting amity to reject her for it. she’s already expecting it, and this is just making it worse- amity not only is regretting kissing her, amity’s seeing this and associating it with Luz. and Luz’s past experience tells her this is not going to end well for her At All.

Oh yeah, need i remind you of the line...

”if amity sees this, she’ll think i’m such a loser” ? she wouldn’t. but the fact that luz automatically assumed that... means something. Luz is thinking back on probably her being rejected back at home, and she’s full of dread from our good ol’ pal RSD. dread that just gets worse and worse by every second.

That noise she makes is definitely not one of glee.

“oh no, i’m gonna be made fun of again”

again. AGAIN. god i’m such a mess over this line- AGAIN. THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE. maybe not exactly this, but luz is seeing all this lovey cheesy stuff and instead of being happy about it she’s thinking back on probably something she did back home that led to her getting made fun of and she can’t focus on the moment- she’s focused on the feelings of both the past and the present and the common thing connecting that is just a big ol feeling of negativity and dread.

RSD. my fucking beloathed.

speaking of rsd, my secondhand embarrassment very much kicks in for the entire tunnel of love ride and i can’t ever rewatch it, but i can tell you something for certain:

Luz looked up to Amity, trying to muster up some sort of positive response, but she sees that stupidly corny pun and she knows Amity’s gonna see it. and her thoughts are going “amity’s gonna see this and i’m gonna be made fun of and called a loser for something I didn’t set up I have to make sure she doesn’t see this and explain that hooty set it all up because I wanted to confess but you don’t like me in that way so-”

spiraling thoughts like that. and she’s focused so much on that she misses how amity’s reacting. she’s missing how amity reacted positively, and how amity’s distressed at her actions.

so, tunnel of love done, luz’s spiraling thoughts are... going less spiraly. she’s able to actually tell Amity that this was hooty’s stupid idea and don’t worry about it-

then Amity hits her with the ‘us, dating? that’s stupid, right?’

and luz realizes that she Fucked Up. and that probably slaps her directly in the face. and it’s definitely a different feeling than the negativity she was feeling in the tunnel, but she’s now very aware of some sudden facts.

1. Amity actually wants to date her, and 2. she just did a very. very stupid thing.

It was only Hooty immediately crying ‘NO’ and freaking out that saved whatever that conversation was going to be, and in fact gave Luz a better opportunity to explain herself and confess.

Funny, that.

#The Owl House #toh #luz noceda #luz noceda toh #luz toh #knock knock knockin on hooty's door #lumity #amity blight #she's here too

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blackdrgns · 2 years

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i still think it’s ridiculous how people still call takemichi a shit MC. i get it, i love strong overpowered MCs too but just bc takemichi is different from them he’s shit?? from the first time i’ve watched and read TR, i’ve never once thought he was annoying from crying all the time. the title crybaby hero is literally his character, what did you expect?? NGL i did get a lot of secondhand embarrassment from some of his scenes but now that I think about it, it makes him feel more relatable? from the start of the story, he was just a loser who ran away from all of his problems until one day he was given the chance to change all of that. it’s not like he had time to prepare himself emotionally. i’ve seen people say that his friends are the only reason why he’s even still alive rn and yes that may be true but most of them he’s also the reason why most of them are still alive too. the way i’ve also seen people say he should’ve gotten a training arc his powers only let him go back and forth on the same date, he wouldn’t have the time to do a long ass training arc.

anyway my point is i like how consistent takemichi is portrayed. he doesn’t suddenly get over his crybaby trait. he knows he’s not perfect.

unrelated but i do love how hina is always there at his lowest :( that’s really important in relationships. i don’t blame takemichi for doing everything to save her even when they parted ways before high school in the og timeline. they’re so perfect for each other and i love that it’s shown and not forced. if takemichi didn’t have moments like this, then we wouldn’t be able to see how much she’s there for him

#tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyo revengers #hinata tachibana #takemichi hanagaki

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giantsreach · 3 years

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part of having written carver since like. 2013/14 is that i can never remember which topics i’ve posted meta on but i’m pretty sure i haven’t discussed his banter with fenris in-depth on this blog yet.

i think something that rubs me the wrong way about the way carver and fenris often interact in fan work is that there tends to be an underlying and fundamental misunderstanding about why carver approaches fenris in the manner he does. i’ve seen a lot of carver talking out of his ass to fenris for no reason other than a ) he thinks he knows better, and/or b ) his overly critical eye wants to fault-find. + he’s annoying or smth to that effect. 🙄

these interpretations tend to neglect the actual driving force behind carver interacting with fenris in the first place, and that’s that carver has had little exposure to other warriors. apart from his time in king cailin’s army, he was peerless ( literally ) in his field, and only interacted with his fellow swordspeople when they passed through town via the imperial highway.

now, there is aveline, of course, but the writing makes it clear that aveline takes on the role of yet another older sibling ( or family of a similar, authoritative position ) in his life, and as such, doesn’t quite qualify as a peer in the traditional sense.

this likely isn’t the most flattering way of phrasing it, but carver wants friends. people who he can relate to, who share his interests and background, who find him as compelling as he finds them. carver may seem prickly or sullen in act i ( and he certainly is at times ), but he’s also experiencing two-prongs of isolation:

1 ) cultural, as a fereldan refugee in a city-state that doesn’t try to hide its hatred of foreign asylum-seekers, and 2 ) mundane, as a displaced young man who has never quite fit in at home nor in any village they've settled in, and who has recently lost the family member closest to him, and who watches his surviving sibling pick up new companions left and right as if it’s not at all difficult.

cut to fenris, who is a consummate swordsman. and while carver is initially on edge because he's under the impression fenris could pose a threat to hawke, once the tension is dispelled, he's far from opposed to fenris's presence. if anything, carver is eager for his approval. fenris is, aside from aveline, the only warrior carver gets to spend any considerable amount of time with, and he's singular in his skill and ability. it's plain to see why someone like carver, starved for peers, would want to establish some kind of rapport with someone as exemplary as fenris.

the problem is, naturally, that carver — nineteen and having never learned to read socialize properly, due in equal parts to growing up sheltered as well as having poor self-confidence — cannot stop himself from saying shit that is so mind-blowingly stupid, that it is a wonder fenris was as forbearing as he was. i'm talking about:

Carver: So... this master of yours wants your markings back? Skin and all? Fenris: So his hunters told me. Unwillingly. Carver: So why not cover them up? Wouldn't that make you harder to find? Fenris: Let them come. I am not one to hide. Carver: Still, if it were me— Fenris: It's not. ─────── Carver: So you've really never thought of hiding from those hunters? Fenris: To what end? Carver: So you could, I don't know, have a life? Fenris: What life do you have? There are no hunters after you at all.

i feel like it should be obvious why these banters are in bad taste, so i won’t go into detail to lambaste carver over his blatant ignorance. the dialogue is proof itself, especially considering how little of fenris’s experience carver ( or anyone else for that matter ) can truly comprehend.

what i will do, true to form, is explain that no, carver did not just pull that suggestion, careless as it was, out of his ass. while hawke may or may not do their best to lay low as an apostate, potentially choosing to engage then-knight-captain cullen over the unjust treatment of mages depending on player discretion, carver has internalized how malcolm guided the family. his father taught them to keep their heads down and be prepared to hit the road in case the circle caught scent of them? then that must be the best way to approach it. emotional neglect unfortunately primed carver to idealize and adopt malcolm's choices and general philosophy. this carries over even to legacy, where, regardless of carver's current character arc, carver will agree that malcolm was correct to keep secrets.

so there's fenris, right, who carver believes is in a position similar to that which the hawkes have been in. carver, attempting to help ( as he is wont to do ), wants to share what had worked for them in attaining a semblance of normalcy, not realizing or considering that that is not fenris's foremost goal. hiding is not a one-size fix-all solution, but carver hasn't expanded his horizons well enough to grasp that fully yet.

then there's largest contributors to my secondhand embarrassment in da2:

Carver: You're very different from other elves. Fenris: Oh? You know them all? Carver: No. I just... you look different. There's no denying that. Fenris: It is what I am. And unlike the problems you claim to have, I really did have no choice. Carver: Do we know anyone who isn't brooding every hour of the day? Fenris: Like attracts like, it seems. ─────── Carver: You know, Fenris, I have a tattoo. Fenris: You have a what? Carver: A tattoo. A lot of us got them before Ostagar. It's a Mabari. For strength. Fenris: Does it curse you with the ability to reach into a man and tear out his insides? Carver: Uh. I can make it bark. Fenris: Please don't.

i’ll start with the second one first. at its heart, the tattoo banter hearkens back to the fact carver wants to feel like he has something in common with someone. yes, it is cringe. but it’s also misguidedly sweet, and on top of that, it’s something carver also tries to do with merrill, who carver arguably has the friendliest dynamic with out of hawke’s crew.

Carver: Your people came a long way Merrill, but I like to think that we have Ferelden in common. Merrill: I never saw Lothering. Did you walk as much as we did? Probably more, you didn't start with halla. Our ship stunk. Carver: Your ship? Merrill: There was something foul in the hold. I can still smell it. Carver: Oh, well, that must have been unpleasant. Merrill: It was. Did I miss something dirty again? Carver: No.

speaking of parallels, the “you’re very different from other elves” dialogue mirrors this one with merrill:

Carver: So, you're not like a lot of other girls. Merrill: No, I'm an elf. Carver: Right. Alright then. Merrill: Oh, did I miss something dirty? Carver: What? No! It wasn't dirty. It wasn't anything.

yes, i took 42069 points of psychic damage from reading that too. but the main takeaway from this is that carver is trying, poorly, to make the two people he thinks he could be friends with feel like they’re special. ( you know, like how carver wishes he was. lol. ) to disastrous results. but i think it’s more than worth mentioning that the intent behind his conversation-making is never once condescending.

and it’s not like carver lacks self-awareness, either. after he becomes a warden and returns to the party for mark of the assassin, he admits he lacked polish.

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?

Carver: So, we're lost. Varric: Just like old times. Carver: Maker, I hope not. I was an ass. Varric: (laughs) Fair comment, Junior. All right, let's get this done.

and specifically to fenris:

Carver: Orlesians. Can't build a hallway without turning it into a maze. Fenris: Keep going. I'm sure your training will kick in any moment. Carver: Still don't like me? I've tried to change. Fenris: You have. Now you're dangerous. Let's move.

i don’t know how to end this nearly 1.5k meta, so tl;dr i guess

#( here it is the 1.5k carver re fenris meta i've had brainworms over for litr years #at this rate i'll have one for anders merrill fenris and aveline by 2023 afhouwehd #anyway. first day of work is slow )#( miscellaneous ╱ outofchara. )#( re: study ╱ headcanon. )

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satohqbanana · 2 years

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Aveyond Divergent Fate Part 14-1

A/N: A part involving tying up some loose ends and making a small detour to Veldarah, Rhen edition.

Rhen and the party, along with Danny, prepare for the journey. That morning, Eliji hands both Dameon and Te'ijal a nazar amulet each, as an extra layer of protection. Rhen and Lars watch in silent horror as Te'ijal reaches for the amulet, and is relieved when nothing happens when she touches it. No, vampires are not demons.

On their departure from Ghedahre, Gyendal gives Te'ijal a travelling rune to get home quickly. Te’ijal, the eccentric older sister, gives Gyendal much embarrassment as she hugs him and remarks how uncharacteristically sweet he is being to his sister, when he is only this sweet to his lovers. Gyendal once again calls her childish, too childish for an older sister. Elini’ and Lars’ shoulders are shaking from holding off their laughter, while Rhen and Dameon feel secondhand embarrassment.

The party has to pass by New Witchwood on their way home. The witches offer a spell for them as extra help for their journey, and as “thanks” for wickedly shutting down the (illegal) butchery they get their meat from. Lars gets to learn it, as he’s the only one with magic suitable enough for its nature. Te’ijal recommends the rest of the party to simply let the witches do what they want, especially if they don’t want to be hexed.

As the party bids farewell to Desdemona, a witch and her son suddenly draw close to them. It is Theodore and his mother, Agnes. Agnes requests the party to take her son to the Gentle Children's School in the West Isle, as Theodore is too nice of a young warlock. Elini and Lars are both surprised because that school is a very expensive school, but Agnes is insistent. Theodore appears reluctant, but even he eventually begs the party to just take him. Rhen is obliged to agree, and Elini takes the boy into her arms.

The party goes into the Wildwoods, where the hunters are terrified by Te’ijal but happy to see Rhen, Lars, and their companions alive. They make a detour to Veldarah, as Lars needs to ask the Empress for extra funding.

Lars heads for the palace, making Dameon sigh in relief. While Te’ijal, Elini, and Theodore tour around excitedly, Rhen gets a chance to show Dameon and Danny around, though she’s nervous as someone might call her a “slave girl”. Of course, nobody does that, as people are required by law to honor Shadwood graduates who wear the Shadwood uniform. They do, however, get some wary and uneasy stares, and Rhen tells her companions to pay it no heed.

"So this is where you’ve been for the past months." Dameon pauses to admire the architecture. "Despite the atmosphere of the people, it's lovely." "It's lonely," corrects Rhen. Dameon gives assuring pats on Rhen's shoulders. "Hey, we're stuck together now. And we'll never be apart again like that.” That makes her smile.

Danny then suggests he travel with them. Rhen is reminded that Danny doesn't know about the prophecy of her birth. She contemplates telling him, but she isn't sure if he'd understand. What did he know of kingdoms and princesses? What did he know of facing daevas and saving druids?

She asks her brother to convince Danny to stay behind in Clearwater.

"Um, Danny. I think it'd be better if at least one of us stays in Clearwater." Dameon struggles to find the right words. "Neither of us can do so because, well... it's a calling, we... we have to help these people out." Danny pouts. "And it's kind of also my calling to travel, you know?" "We'll return once we can, promise! But, right now, it'll give us some peace of mind too if you can stay in Clearwater for the moment. Please? It's dangerous out there, and, well... we, we'll get you souvenirs! If we can." "...aww, fine. I'm staying in Clearwater." "Thank you."

They go on their way. The boys continue to admire Veldarah, and Rhen temporarily loses herself in her thoughts.

She thinks back to the time she insisted to Lars that she did not like Danny that much anymore. She still holds some feelings, but they’re not anymore that strong. She yearns to reach out to him, but she no longer knows how to share herself with him. She even had to ask for her brother’s help to tell Danny he can’t come along. One simple thing, and she can’t even do it.

She thinks about Danny and Dameon’s awe towards Veldarah, and their innocence towards its real nature. Unlike Ghalarah, the capital of the Empire did not outright practice slavery. There was still some form of it, but it was so well-hidden that visitors like Danny and Dameon wouldn’t really see it. But it’s not like she can tell them that people used to look down on her for being a slave. It’s not like she can tell them she became a slave in the first place. That required reexperiencing certain moments in her mind…

She thinks she is losing it, slowly. It is as if Rhen Darzon is slowly dying inside her. The more she does her mission, the more she is compelled to continue, the more she kills herself inside. Is this why the Empress made Lars accompany her? Maybe. Maybe.

As they pass through the shops, they bump into Steph. Rhen is overjoyed to see her friend also wearing a sword singer armor like she does - Steph has graduated! Steph's good deed was to uncurse an underground city found deep within the cave systems. Derez, the local necromancer, had helped her find a way to touch the cursed key without getting cursed herself.

Rhen thinks to herself that maybe the local necromancer wasn't as bad as she and Lars first thought. She and Steph decide to drop by, and the boys follow.

At Derez' shop, Te'ijal is making a big fuss over his supposed "cursed" goods because, as an undead, she knows whether they're legitimate or not. She teases the necromancer over his fraudulent schemes. Rhen scratches off the idea - Derez is as trash as she and Lars thought, while Steph gets a shock because she thought the necromancer was legitimate.

When Derez sees Rhen, he congratulates her on her graduation and asks about Lars. Rhen is wary of him, but Derez offers tutelage for Lars if he's interested in necromancy. Rhen is sure Lars would turn it down, so she tells the necromancer to cease his scams and storms off to grab lunch with her brother and her friends.

#aveyond divergent fate #anne's av1 au #aveyond #av1 #annelaurant writing

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sanchoyo · 3 years

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danny phantom 14-20 thoughts!! I finished up s1 :D these last few eps were actually really really good!!!

-did. did tucker really just say esperanto was a dead language only spoken as a secret code between geeks. google says around 100,000 people actively speak it. oh my god...it being an auxiliary language doesn't mean its 'just for geeks to speak in code' ...it helps bridge gaps between people who don't have a language in common...

-danny really isn't pulling punches when it comes to fighting the ghost-cop possessed people huh. like he SLAMMED KWAN INTO THE CONCRETE SO HARD. HE THREW PAULINA INTO A BILLBOARD. will that...I mean it WOULD carry over to their bodies non-possessed, right? like if the ghost piloting their bodies gets hurt?? itd be so upsetting to be possessed, lose time, then wake up covered in bruises (and possibly, broken bones??) real horror movie stuff im sure wont be addressed in any way

-tuckers parents seem nice! I like them :)

-WULF IS CUTE AND I FEEL BAD. im so glad the gang realized he was only causing trouble bc of the shock collar walker put on him and helped. also, him wearing that big hoodie with the hood on, and thinking its subtle. we can tell youre still a giant wolfie :) THEN GETTING SUCKED INTO THE PORTAL AAAAH :( anxiously waiting to see Him Again....

-DANNY BLASTING HIS PARENTS THINKING THEY WERE OVERSHADOWED LMFAO GET THEIR ASSES. maddie marking how many ghosts she gets with lipstick tallies on the side of her portal gun? kindaaa iconic tho. (ALSO, SHE WAS LIKE, 2 FT AWAY FROM HIM RIGHT AFTER SHE TRIED TO SHOOT HIM. HOW DO YOU NOT RECONINZE YOUR OWN SON??? like sure, he might have diff hair/eye colors. but like, if one of my family members dyed their hair, and was wearing contacts, its not like id be like 'wHO IS THIS STRANGER!!!' ...he still has all his facial features!! same everything!!! I hate it here)

-paulina being #1 girl realizing danny's a friendly ghost immediately. smart queen. lancer and kwan ran away right after he made this sweet baby face at them:

which is hilarious.

-ok. im not saying his bullying is JUSTIFIED, but. dash looked so pleased with the (cute!) poster he just painted, and danny comes thru the wall and spills paint on his nice letterman jacket. his anger is justified maybe 65% of the time so far...(not the way he handles it, but STILL.) at least lancer is stepping in!! and them making a silly little bet was...cute?? until dash pulled out his GROSS UNDERWEAR AND SAID DANNY WOULD HAVE TO EAT THEM???? WHAT THE FUCK MAN. TUCKER WAS SO RIGHT ITS FUCKING WEIRD TO CARRY THOSE AROUND EWWW. THIS KID IS UNWELL. lancer was right, his animatronic setup was SUPER IMPRESSIVE?? hes actually pretty creative. danny meanwhile is stealing the fright knight's design...I hope dash is taking art classes or smth with his sports

-fright knight is the most bestest ghost so far i LOVE THAT DESIGN. I am biased towards knights, and characters with swords, but he fucks so severely. and should sue danny for copyright infringement for stealing his design for his haunted house. if some 14 yr old broke into MY house and stole MY sword, id also be pissed. his evil winged unicorn rules too with its FANGS. and he just CAN SHOVE THE PORTAL OPEN WITH HIS HANDS??? is he the strongest ghost weve seen so far? idk but hes my fav. SOUL SHREDDER IS SUCH A COOL SWORD NAME TOO. ANY NAMED SWORD ALSO FUCKS. 'flaming bedsheets of DEATH' funny king. ALSO he was polite to dash and tucker when just asking for directions and telling tucker 'oh maybe, just a suggestion, maybe be nicer to me and be more respectful :)' I LOOOVE HIM.

-I noticed this in the Ember ep, but jazz has an electric guitar in her room!! talent musical queen!! its cool to see hobbies just in the bg.

-fright knight's murder castle reminds me of the booby trapped murder castle in zexal!! another supposedly 'for kids' show with murder/trap castles! we love that. if you are a dp fan reading this, give yugioh zexal a try. its also got 13-14 year old protags and involves (alien) ghosts. the cardgame is just a vessel for the plot, which is really good. (I just want more people to watch my fav yugioh, man)

-danny. with a SWORD.

-danny doesnt NEED TO WIN this contest, dash didnt STEAL HIS DESIGNS AND STEAL A SWORD. he also got excited to hear lancer got sent to a dimension with his worst fears too just so he could win the contest? DANNY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! BRO MAYBE YOURE 14 AND HAVENT FULLY DEVOLPED YOUR WHOLE BRAIN YET, BUT...THATS FUCKED. this kid casually says the most deranged things, I do worry for my spooky son. once again, therapy needed. that judo toss was great tho. I wonder if he actually did pick up some martial arts stuff from his mom?

-danny can fly 112 mph!!! thats so fast! I love the lil montage of him and his friends testing his abilities and stuff, very cute and a good way to showcase what he can do by now and how much more proficient he's gotten from ep 1!!! I'm sure he's going to get more abilities :)

-im glad...maddie's at least TRYING this ep. I do feel for her because her husband is a man baby. but the fact it took 16 episodes to get a kinda semblance of any kind of real concern or attempts at bonding. hmm. jack's 'BACK OFF SHES A MINOR' @ the ghost trying to attack jazz. also was very funny. and him wanting to make an action figure of her? are the parents redeeming themselves to me? slightly. they gotta Work Harder

-THE GHOST. IS FLYING. THE PLANE.

-fenton machete. but she doesnt carry a PHONE??? ???

-I mean I expected vlad when you namedrop him earlier in the ep, and also the title card picture, and dalv corp being fucking vlad backwards. but seeing him just pull up on a golf cart made me bust out laughing. WITH the gift baskets prepared. why wouldnt you at least be suspicious. also, if he wants danny to be his lil sonboy, why is he so fucking malicious?? dude you are going about this in such a bad way. stop it. get some help.

-maddie not even hesitating to drag danny out. fucking good. danny is so right, go on the internet to date. get a cat. how do you spend...how many years?? has it been since college?? at least 20, right, since the parents/vlad are in their 40s? hung up on ONE girl. my god, man. incel drama queen. her kung fu IS impressive, but dude. 'we both know hes a creep' SO right. it sucks but they do need a phone and shit being in the middle of NOWHERE. also, just stealing his helicopter was great. <3

-'you must be exhausted carrying the weight of that mistake you made years ago' 'well we all make mistakes. maybe I'll make one now!' WHY DID THIS EXHCHANGE SEND ME. AND VLAD WITH THE BREATH SPRAY EWWW BITCH. 'OLD BAIT BREATH' SOO RIGHT. both danny and his mom playing him HAHAH hes so dumb. or rather, I think he thinks with his emotions too too much and is...actually pretty gullible? lmao he believed danny was ready to give in SO fast. (which is sad hes that hopeful, like you have SO MUCH MONEY YOU COULD EASILY GET ANOTHER GIRL WHO HAS A KID. AND WOULD WANT TO BE WITH YOU AND BE SUPPORTED. GET OVER THIS (1) WOMAN ALREADY IM GETTING SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT AAAAH)

-GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR. it was also in the title card, but I still got very excited. we love bears here

-SAM'S BAT SWIMSUIT COVERUP!!! her outfits are simply iconic.

-'i'd tell you to go to the mens room, but I don't think you qualify' top paulina transphobic moments. :( and him wearing a tanktop to the swim park? hmmm! (actually I think she was overshadowed by then, so, KITTY top 10 transphobic moments??)

-kitty just piloting paulina around makes me feel SO bad tho, paulina's gonna wake up and be like 'wtf do you mean I was dating this rando' like youre leading danny on to make johnny jealous, and also just POSSESSING POOR PAULINA. dude take your relationship problems ELSEWHERE. last time we saw them, they seemed like such a cute couple!! wtf johnny!! I mean, she sucks for trying to make him jealous, he sucks for looking at other girls...maybe they need a break, but Not Like This. or, you know, just. better communication...

-and the A-listers having a full packet and a stamp system. who organizes this. kwan fucking owning being the new danny though, this is hysterical. THE TUCKER/KWAN FLOWER FIELD TWIRL. UNIRONICALLY ADORABLE. and him giving it his all for the poetry slam. bless his HEARTTTT.

-Star owns. actually, all of the extra characters are shining this ep and I love it.

-INVISO-BILL??? NOOOO THEY DID HIM SOO DIRTY. DANNY SWEETIE IM SO SORRY.

-johnny and danny bein friends and staging a fake fight (which danny takes too seriously, once again this child has aggression he NEEDS TO WORK OUT) I hope these three stay friends, I said it before but danny needs more friendly ghosts to hang with.

-at this point, Danny's ghost enemies are a lot like, I dunno, batman's rouge gallery is the first thing that comes to mind. they all have their own gimmick and unique designs, but most of them are easy to beat after learning the Moral Lesson. I still get excited when any of them show up again, though. 18 is another valerie episode!!!! :D skulker really said you two will get along if I have to handcuff you together <3 and the gym teacher really said, youre married now, have a flour baby! ngl, I'm not really watching this show for the shipping stuff (which I am very scared to look at the fandom for after I finish this watch through- I feel like there's probably discourse/arguing about ships...) but. I'm gonna put my opinion out there. valerie/danny > sam/danny. maybe I just really love the enemies to lovers trope. And the secret identity stuff adds Extra Flavor.

-SKULKER JUST HAVING THE BOX GHOST AND DANGLING HIM BY A STRING. HILARIOUS. and him watching them with binoculars and making his silly little commentary. AND MAKING THE SACK BABY CRY. LMAO. THIS DUDE IS A BABY KIDNAPPER. skulker is super fun

-danny, you just...collapsed the water tower. and then attacked the nasty burger machine...mascot thingy...out of anger..I KEEP SAYING HE'S GOT ANGER ISSUES BUT. HE REALLY NEEDS A LESSON IN MANAGING COLLATERAL DAMAGE!!! So does valerie!! They're both pretty focused on each other. I mean it's good of Danny to say he's trying to make sure PEOPLE don't get hurt, but... (I mean I guess it's not something 14 year olds WOULD worry about, but as an adult im like, who's going to fix that? how much money will that take??)

-TUCKER MAKING BANK. and sam and tucker being super emotionally attached to their flour baby and being pretty good parents. that's cute...also him just straight kissing her and being like. WAIT. O_O JDSKAFHD. his mom baking them into cookies was the funniest possible result. tbh I dont feel like this is on tucker, if anything the other kid's shouldve been more responsible! He was just taking an opportunity to get that $$ which I respect

-Danny being more understanding of Valerie's situation in the end (helping her at her job, too, and trying to keep that a secret for her!!!) And seeing them work together this ep, and also her letting phantom get her out of the ghost zone...was very sweet. LOVE that. more valerie eps pls

-me when I realize vlad's big stupid house exploded because of his own carelessness with changing the ghost portal ectofiltrator or whatever: *pointing and laughing*

-me when I realize it means he's gonna go make danny's life hell for it somehow: >:(

-SCOOBY PARODY!!! I feel like there's gotta be some scooby doo/danny phantom crossover stuff, right? also, 'guys in white' men in black wishes

-'oh, that's right! dad married the love of your life! you're bitter and alone!' DANNNNNYY GET HIS ASS ONCE AGAIN WE ARE POINTING AND LAUGHING AT VLAD

-'jack, you captured the ghost boy!!' UMM. he did nothing <3 'we have a weapon's vault??' YOU HAVE A WEAPONS VAULT??? and jack didnt put a handle on the inside. of fucking course he didnt! why would you leave that to your son!! or expect him to clean YOUR LAB when its where you work with probably dangerous chemicals and weapons and hes 14!! give him normal chores, like, I dunno, vacuuming, laundry, dishes...CMON. I hate it here. But I'm glad Jack is more chill about danny while he's a ghost, and willing to work with him for this ep. AND. I DID ENJOY JACK PUNCHING VLAD IN THE FACE. AND GENERALLY JUST OWNING HIM. the ghost punchy fists are actually amazing. like yeah, just punch a ghost in the face. that rules.

-ep 20 opens with the coolest fucking ghost lady design. her tattoos can come off and fight. MA'AM. I like ur nose ring and your cape maam hello 👉👈😳

-sam's grandma is hilarious and the most valid member of her family and I love her. thats my grandma now. and tucker covering for sam by dressing as her. thats true friendship <3 also skipping school to go to a goth circus. just bestie things! sam's parents are haters but for all the wrong reasons.

-'my family has controlled ghosts with this for generations!' WAIT. WAIT FREAKSHOW /ISNT/ A GHOST? I didn't expect that...he's just a fucked up guy controlling ghosts? anyway watching danny shoot at police cars and rob banks while mind controlled. its like, the most stereotypical 'bad' things lmao. (tbh an evil ghost circus troupe is a sick concept)

this gives off big deviantart emo edit vibes

(I'm going to assume evil circus reaper danny has a lot of fan content. people love an edgy au, except this one is canon (even tho its via mind control...having the protag go evil otherwise might be hard, I guess?) but au where he stays with the troupe...that has to exist, right?)

ANYWAY. excited to start s2!! lowkey surprised by how many notes some of these posts have gotten. I've gone back and tagged them all with 'dp thoughts' so they're easier to find on my blog! ^^ and I will probably possibly do (more) fanart on my art blog after I finish the watch of the whole show, so like. @sanchoyodraws follow my art blog :)

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #dp thoughts

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euterp3 · 3 years

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🌺Leorio Fluff ABC🌺

Some soft Leorio Headcanons because the tag is EMPTY. 🌺 Enjoy the Leorio Fluff ABC! More under the cut ✨

A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?)

FOREHEAD KISSES. I take Leorio as a person, who likes to keep his affection private, but whenever you’re out in public he’ll hold your hand, give you short forehead kisses or just stays close to you. But at home, he’s way more affectionate. He’ll hug you from behind, cuddle with you while watching TV or give you a lot of soft kisses.

B = best memory (what is the best memory they have with you)

His favorite memory is going on a spontaneous car trip with you in the middle of the night. The two of you screaming your favorite songs while he drives, stopping in the middle of nowhere to look at the stars.

C = cat or dog person

Both. Leorio probably loves both animals to pieces, don’t make him choose 😭

D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?)

Well, aside from finally becoming a doctor, I’d assume that Leorio would want to live with his s/o in a pretty house, maybe a family, if his partner would agree.

E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?)

Since Leorio has to learn a TON for his exams and studies, he’ll probably learn a lot at home but still tries to leave spend his evenings with you. Either at home or he takes you out occasionally. If you stay at home, prepare for cuddly movie evenings with popcorn and ice cream.

F = first date (what was it like?)

Gosh, he is N E R V O U S. You guys talked about how bad his cooking skills are, so you invite him over to cook something with you. After finishing the meal, you two sit on your couch and start watching the show Leorio has been talking about for the last weeks. He slowly comes closer and asks you, if you would comfortable with him putting an arm around your shoulders. You agree and lean closer to him. Leorio is absolutely tensed up, until you turn around and laugh at him. He slowly realises, that there is no need to be this tense and opens up.

(after that you guys decided to go on a few more dates until he finally asks you out <3)

G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?)

A warm, hearty laugh! Leorio is such an open person, so I think he would genuinely enjoy bad dad jokes, terrible puns or funny moments with his friends.

H = hugs (do they like hug? What kind of hugs do the give?)

Give this poor man a hug, he’s stressed out 😭 he is probably pretty touch starved and loves hugs so much, since he rarely gets some.

I = instrument (do they play an instrument?)

If Leorio could play an instrument, I’d take him for an acoustic guitar or even ukulele player.

J = joy (what brings them joy in life?)

His friends, his partner, M o n e y. And spending quality time with his favorite people.

K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

Leorio likes to pamper his partner with kisses and as soon as he knows that they’re comfortable with it, he will do it as often as he can. His kisses are either soft and loving or very heated and passionate.

L = love (how do they act when they have a crush)

What a dork. He’s so helpless and tries to impress you so much but he’s actually embarrassing himself. Expect a lot of secondhand embarrassment until his friends (probably Kurapika) can’t take it anymore and talk to him. He’ll deny it at first but admit it after a while. After that talk, Leorio will try to act more normal around you, but still flustered.

M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?)

That one time you two decided to go on a roadtrip in the middle of the night after Leorio finally finished his exams for the semester. The semester has been extremely stressful, so he was happy to take a breather. After driving for hours in the middle of nowhere while listening to your playlist with your favorite songs, you take a short walk to watch the stars.

N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

Leorio is a very insecure about the dark under-eye rings he got due to his terribly exhausting shifts. Please don’t make fun of this handsome Himbo.

O = occupation (what’s their dream job?)

Emergency Doctor 🌺

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

The best dad with the worst jokes. A very loving parent but still strict enough to raise his children right.

Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines)

After meeting so many different people in his life, I bet he’s ready for everything and everyone else.

R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?)

What a sap. He loves to spoil you with little thoughtful gifts. I imagines Leorio’s love language to be gifts and quality time since he’s sometimes at a loss of words.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail)

Literally everything. But most likely his partner, friends, loving memories and looking back at all the achievements he’s made in his life.

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

Since our man is always busy or needs to learn, he tries to spend at least a few hours with you, even if it means just sitting next to you while he’s learning for his exams.

U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

Leorio leaves his dirty socks all over your shared flat for you to find them, which drives you INSANE sometimes. On the other hand, he hates it when you forget to open the window after showering and often complains about you sitting too close to your phone since it’s bad for your posture and eyes.

V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

He takes a decent amount of cute selfies of you two, with either funny moments or adorable filter.

W = wedding (what was the wedding like?)

Your wedding was a very lovely and smaller feast with all of your loved ones. Leorio prefers quality over quantity and wanted you to enjoy your special day to the fullest. (also, imagine this beautiful man in a wedding suit, my heart-)

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?)

After your first cooking date, he decided that he’d need to learn how to cook properly in order to impress you. He learned pretty quickly and was so proud of himself when he surprised you with a pretty good meal (for Leorio Standard)

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, scent, word anything)

Late night shifts at work. They exhaust him the most and he often forgets to count how many cups of coffee he already had.

Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons)

Shifts in hospitals are absolutely terrible and exhausting, so Leorio probably suffers from insomnia and is always tired. It often happens that he planned something with you for the evening, but falls asleep next so you instead because he is just so tired. He also loves to cuddle with you to fall asleep or makes you read him stories until he falls asleep. He also likes to sleep in on his days off. 🌺

Ah, that was fun to write!! I know, that I'm definitely rusty asf but I hope you like it nonetheless 💕

#Hxh #leorio x reader #Leorio hcs #Leorio headcanon #Leorio paladiknight #Leorio #hunter x hunter #Hunter x Reader #Reader x #hxh headcanons #hxh hcs #Hxh Leorio

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webrokethe4thwall · 3 years

Note

Can you write a Fanfic where Rupert Swaggart finds his own brooch and gets his live back?

Sorry for the wait @the-deku-guy, but here’s your request!

Brooches before Swine

A large man adjusted his trench coat and fedora as he scanned the stalls of the jewelers’ black market. He was not searching for your standard silver necklace or ruby ring, but a brooch. Specifically, a cloaking brooch. Meat Sweats was once again on the hunt for a mystic cloaking brooch. However, even now as he looked over the charms laid out on the table, his hopes plummeted. Several brooches, ranging from simple to ornate to tacky, were lined up, but none of them were mystic.

He had been through all of the black market stalls, antique malls, and even online auction halls. Each location yielded the same result: nothing. The former celebrity chef released a frustrated groan. He had been so close to reclaiming his old life with the last brooch he had found here. If only those two pesky girls—the curly-headed one and the slime-ball—hadn’t stolen it from him and ruined his plans!

And to add insult to injury, they had trapped him in that backwater barbeque studio. Did those amateurs not understand how to properly prepare meat before cooking it?!

“Rubbish, pitchfork-wielding hicks,” Meat Sweats grumbled, stalking away from the broach district. “Don’t know the difference between brine and a bay leaf.”

Regardless of the past, Meat Sweats was determined to regain his fame, his cooking show, and his previous life as Rupert Swaggart. Nothing and no one was going to stop him! …Well, except for his lack of a human appearance. Meat Sweats continued to mutter under his breath. He had seen other mutants—pardon, yokai—with cloaking brooches. Why was he unable to find one? Maybe there was a recall for some kind of mystical enhancement.

“One moment,” Meat Sweats grunted. “A memory stirs.”

He put a fist to his chin as he thought of a past conversation. It had been a few weeks ago with a tiny worm mutant whose name completely slipped his mind. The fellow had said he purchased a mystical enhancement jewel from some mystic shop disguised as a secondhand corner store.

“If that’s the case,” Meat Sweats mused, “perchance a visit is in order.”

That very night, the pig mutant went to the corner store. He pulled his clothes tight to his frame upon entering the store. He didn’t much care if he looked suspicious; he just didn’t want the police called on him tonight. The first thing Meat Sweats saw was some skinny greasy guy standing behind the counter. This fellow must’ve been the cloaked yokai. Meat Sweats took in the man’s lackluster appearance, baseball cap, and vague scent of chevon. After taking a moment to size each other up, the mutated chef decided to break the silence first.

“I heard that you sell delectable jewelry in this establishment,” Meat Sweats said.

“Oh, we sell all kinds of things here,” the man stated. “Lamps, dolls, and toasters to name a few; but yeah, jewelry is in the mix. The name’s Clem!” He gave Meat Sweats a lazy onceover. “You, uh, looking for something particular, friend? Nudge, nudge.”

“Nudge, nudge?” Meat Sweats asked. “It’s ‘wink, wink,’ matey.” What a peculiar character.

“Clem, get your act together!” The man shook his head in self-deprecation. Giving the password away again because he forgot an idiom. How embarrassing!

Before Meat Sweats could fake curiosity over what Clem meant, the man began shedding his disguise. The now purple goat yokai rang the bell on the counter, revealing hidden compartments in the displays that contained his mystical wares. Clem spread his arms out, showcasing the jewelry on his shelves.

“You said you’re looking for jewelry,” he droned. “What kind?”

“Cloaking brooch,” Meat Sweats stated, tearing away his trench coat. “Can’t really go on live television looking like this, now can I?”

“Wouldn’t really recommend it, no,” Clem said after a low whistle. “I’ve got just the thing.”

He knelt down behind the counter and pulled up a tray laden with stunning brooches. Clem plucked one up and handed it to the pig mutant. Meat Sweats turned it in his metal hands, admiring the star-shaped silver with a shining pink pearl in its center. He pinned the brooch to his collar and gave it a little shine. Soon his body was wrapped up in the soft pink glow of the mystical cloaking energy. Meat Sweats looked at himself in the counter’s shiny surface. It was perfect.

“All kinds of handsome is me once again,” Meat Sweats, now Rupert Swaggart, grinned.

With a wink and kiss sent to his reflection, Rupert threw a few bills at Clem. He had no appetite for goat yokai shopkeepers at the moment. No, it was time for Rupert to reclaim his previous life in full.

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A few nights later, Mikey upped the volume on his kitchen television. It was time for Kondescending Kitchen, and he was determined to make the perfect risotto!

“Are you ready to unleash the flavor?!”

Mikey came to an abrupt halt. That voice…it couldn’t be! He focused fully on the television. Meat Sweats, disguised as Rupert Swaggart, stood front and center for a cheering audience. Not good.

“Guys,” the box turtle yelled, already reaching for his kusari-fundo, “we’ve got a problem!”

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Rupert left the stage with the sound of the audience’s queued cheers pouring into his ears. He smirked to himself as he entered his dressing room. It was quite refreshing to hear after months of absence from his television career. The station manager even said that she was going to schedule an interview about his dramatic transformations and his unexpected final return. Yes, his cloaking brooch shining brilliantly on his apron was working greatly in his favor. The chef grinned as he picked up the night’s winning dish: pork risotto.

“Time to savor my victory,” Rupert hummed contentedly.

“Not a chance, Meat Sweats!”

One yellow and four green blurs swept into Rupert’s vision. No, not these reptilian nuisances and that ruinous girl! While Rupert hadn’t done anything more than reclaim his television program from an undeserving rival, Meat Sweats should’ve known that these pains in his tendrils would catch wind of his return.

“Not you rotten eggs!” Meat Sweats snarled, ditching his disguise in favor of his more combat-ready pig mutant appearance.

“You know it!” April defiantly retorted. “Which poor yokai did you steal this brooch from?!”

Now Meat Sweats was genuinely confused. He was also annoyed, but he had some modicum of integrity. He never stole the brooch. He didn’t even steal the first one! He bought both pieces fair and square. Granted his newest item was from a slightly more legitimate business. Nevertheless, why are these pests coming after him tonight?! He hadn’t even attempted to eat or poison anyone recently!

Before Meat Sweats could state his innocence, the fight was on. Raphael and Donatello charged him head on, while Leonardo and Michelangelo went for his sides. Meat Sweats easily knocked all four of them back with a swing of his meat tenderizer. He nearly missed April reaching for his rose gold cloaking brooch.

“Hands off!” Meat Sweats roared, stepping away from the girl and raising a protective hand over the shining pearl. “This is me own brooch!”

“Oh, yeah?” Mikey challenged. “Show us the receipt then!”

Meat Sweats, fed up with these annoying teenagers that always seemed to pop up in his life, shoved the seedy secondhand shop’s receipt into the smallest turtle’s face. The turtles and girl clearly didn’t expect this response. All fighting stopped, and it appeared the children were taking a moment to process the strip of paper between the pig mutant’s gloved fingers.

“Satisfied?!” Meat Sweats demanded.

“Wait,” Raph said in disbelief. “You actually, legitimately bought a cloaking brooch?”

“How much does one go for?” Donnie asked, squinting at the too small smudged numbers.

“Enough to get the job done,” Meat Sweats stated, stuffing the receipt back into his pocket. “Now, leave me be before I cook you all into turtle soup!”

“Not so fast,” Leo said. “Why do you need a cloaking brooch anyway. You’ve just been trying to eat and poison people this entire time. Did you want to do that when you were human, too, or is it a pig thing?”

Meat Sweats sighed in exasperation. Maybe he should’ve just let the fighting go on until either he passed out or they ran off. It was too late to find out, in any case. Now he had to converse with, ugh, teenagers about his rather tame plans and not-so-tame eating habits.

“Pig thing,” Meat Sweats stated shortly. He rubbed his cloaking brooch and reactivated his human façade. “I’m taking back what’s mine with this brooch. My show, my fame, and my life need my human face. I’m not about to let some mediocre fry cook take over my kitchen!”

The so-called chef the station had replaced him with was barely out of culinary school his skills were so dull. It boiled Meat Sweats’ blood. Whether those pesky teenagers liked it or not, Rupert Swaggart was making a comeback. Kondescending Kitchen needed him! Meat Sweats just needed a human face to rescue it. While some people were accepting of mutants or cosplay junkies, the public eye required a certain degree of discretion.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” April asked. She gave Rupert a distrustful once over.

“Not a problem!” Mikey interjected. He slid himself between his siblings and the returned celebrity chef. “We’ll just enroll him into my Evil League of Mutants Going Good Rehabilitation Program!”

“His what?” Rupert asked, baffled by whatever the exuberant turtle was rambling about.

“It is Michael’s method of transforming our enemies into allies,” Donnie drawled. “It has been showing promising results for Draxum. Though there may be a learning curve.”

“Yeah,” Leo reluctantly agreed, “but Draxum’s the only one that Mikey has worked with so far. How do we know it’ll work on this guy?”

“That’s easy,” Raph stated, fully confident in his baby brother. “Since we know that Mikey’s program worked on one of the worst people we know, we’ll help him with setting Meat Sweats on the right path.”

“And keep Mikey from getting star-struck,” April muttered, eying the way Mikey fawned over the sweaty chef.

Rupert rolled his eyes. What is wrong with these kids?! Were they seriously discussing the future of his moral status in front of him? He didn’t need to put up with this!

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Rupert demanded.

“No!”

All the teenagers glared at him, except for the orange clad turtle who had stars in his eyes. The audacity!

“Rubbish,” Rupert grunted.

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For weeks, Meat Sweats was under the unnervingly close surveillance of the Mad Dogs. A ridiculously unsuitable name for those five obnoxious kids. He despised how involved they forced themselves to be in his life. Telling him what to do and what not to do. It was annoying! Don’t eat the mutant silverfish this, and don’t sabotage your culinary rivals that. He was sick of it and was very vocal about his displeasure.

However, the teens didn’t seem to care nor let up in their efforts to conform him to the moral high ground. The chef didn’t know if reclaiming his glory was worth the hassle. At least he didn’t have to waste energy tenderizing their bones anymore. Michelangelo even had a realistic view of his character in spite of his fanboy attitude towards Rupert Swaggart.

The box turtle never expected him to become 100% kindhearted, if he ever became nice at all. However, Mikey did put limits on Meat Sweats and made him stick to some simple moral codes. Rupert just wanted to get his status as “Most Pretentious Chef in New York” back on track. Unfortunately, the youngest turtle did not allow him to perform any of his deliciously underhanded tricks on his competition.

“Meat Sweats!” Mikey admonished. He had just caught the reforming chef about to pour mystic poison into his delightful pizza puffs. Again. “What are we supposed to do with our culinary competition?!”

Meat Sweats released an annoyed grunt. He was getting tired of repeating his supposed mentor’s lessons, but it was mildly better than the intermittent fighting they used to go through.

“Out-serve them with quality meals, not quality poison,” Rupert droned. It was verbatim from one of Chef Mikey’s many “Maintaining Healthy Competition” lectures.

“Exactly,” Mikey said in a condescendingly sweet tone. He took the poison from Meat Sweats’ grip and yeeted it into the distance. “Now put on Rupert Swaggart, and let’s make filet mignon!”

Meat Sweats rolled his eyes at the young turtle’s antics but went along with it. Michelangelo was a decent enough chef for his age, proving his potential by the way he prepared that salmon when two drooling snakes were baring down on them. Rupert Swaggart activated his cloaking brooch and picked up a knife. He may as well humor Mikey with an attempt to mature his talent.

“Not a bad idea, lad,” Rupert agreed. “Filet mignon with roasted asparagus and,” he smirked, “truffles.”

Mikey’s eye twitched at the traumatic memory. “Not funny, sweat sock.”

Meat Sweats laughed uproariously, and even harder still when he saw Mikey’s annoyance growing. It was fun messing with this one. No matter what the chef threw his way, the young turtle always bounced back with an even snarkier reply. He might make a Kondescending Chef out of the boy yet. With no further preamble, the two mutants proceeded to craft a fine meal of filet mignon over roasted asparagus drizzled with mushroom sauce.

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A month later, Rupert’s program established itself as the most popular food-related show on television once again. Crimes related to a food truck driven by a pig mutant plummeted as the celebrity chef made more public appearances. He had finally achieved his goal. Now Meat Sweats could kick back in his apartment, resting in his easy chair, and let the adulation from his fans inflate his ego, and his wallet, once more. A loud knock on his door broke him out of the moment, and the door being kicked open entirely had the pig mutant falling out of his chair.

“What in blazes?!” Meat Sweats shouted, quickly activating his cloaking brooch.

“Sorry for the door,” April cheered, giving no sign of remorse at all. “But I come baring gifts, and they’re heavy!”

April lifted several plastic bags filled with groceries. Rupert gave the girl an annoyed glare. He got up from the floor, set his door back into place minimal effort, and stared his “visitor” down. The chef didn’t know why she was in his home without her turtle friends, but he did catch the delightful aroma of raw meat, seasonings, and vegetables wafting from the bags in her hands. April immediately went to the kitchen and dumped a few wrapped lamb chops, fresh artichokes, a jar of capers, and several other ingredients onto the countertop.

“What are you doing, girlie?” Meat Sweats asked, dropping his disguise.

He was well used to the turtles’ surprise visits, but they always came in through the window or a portal into the living room. April rarely came by herself, so the chef had yet to learn her favored way of barging in.

“Setting up an apology,” April replied, organizing the meat, spices, and other ingredients.

“A what?” Meat Sweats was taken aback. This teen had been screwing up his life for months. Why was she apologizing now? What was she apologizing for?!

“You’ve been doing pretty good since you got that cloaking broach and went into Mikey’s rehab program,” April snickered. She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “And I started feeling kinda bad about trapping you in the ‘Sauce That Hog’ studio.” Meat Sweats frowned deeply at the memory, and April had the sense to move on to the ingredients on the counter. “So I brought over all the ingredients for fancy lamb chops.” She waved the bag of artichokes enticingly. “Including some mystic artichokes fresh from the Hidden City.”

Meat Sweats snorted at the attempt to woo his culinary pallet. He may not spend much time with the girl, but he knew April could kiss up to anyone’s better nature once she found their Kryptonite. His was fairly obvious, and the chef took great pride in flaunting his cooking skills.

“So you thought that catering to me superior culinary taste with mystic produce and corner store mutton would make up for that torment?” He wasn’t going to let April off that easily though.

“It’s actually hogget from my cousin’s farm,” April corrected. “She raises the best meat livestock I’ve ever tasted, so I thought you might like to try it.”

“No kidding?” Meat Sweats, surprised that April knew different types of lamb meat, looked at the wrapped meats inquisitively.

“It’s sheep meat,” April smirked, “not goat.”

“Why must you pun like the blue one?” Meat Sweats grumbled. “Just give me the ingredients and watch me—”

“Unleash the flavor!” The mutant and teenager chorused.

Meat Sweats wasn’t expecting that either. He gave April an odd look. Mikey was his fanboy, so what was her excuse? April just grinned.

“Mikey got me to watch a few episodes from his favorite seasons of Kondescending Kitchen,” she explained. “What can I say? It’s a catchy line.”

“Yes, well,” Meat Sweats countered, “it’s my line.” He knows it was a lame comeback, but he really didn’t know how to respond. One minute he and these kids are at each other’s throats, the next he’s cooking filet mignon and lamb chops with them. He shakes his head and gestures to the other side of the sink. “Hand me my knife block. I want to chop up these artichokes for a marinade.”

“Yes, Chef,” April saluted.

“Cheeky girl,” Meat Sweats commented.

He and April made a delightful set of lamb chops topped with marinated artichokes and seasoned capers. The chef figured that if the return of Rupert Swaggart meant being badgered by those annoying Mad Dogs, then there are worse fates he could have been forced to endure. They weren’t as awful as he dreaded. If he didn’t enjoy being a jerk so much, he may have been tempted to even call them his friends. He still might. Just not when they were around. He had an image to maintain after all.

#rottmnt #meat sweats #rupert swaggart #writing #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfic #meat sweats isn't fond of kids #but the mad dogs will force him to like them #mikey and april already endeared themselves to him in a way

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 years

Text

so now I guess i am prepared to make that character list, heh

warning: self-indulgence and general squee to follow

1. Edward: ‘too perfect’? too perfect?

first of all, you say that like it’s a bad thing

but seriously, i actually lean heavily on RWS!Edward. early on in the series, he actually gives me secondhand embarrassment. he is soooo emotional and childlike. (also the author is leaning too heavily on him as his own favorite, but i try not to hold that against the character.)

but it’s lovely to see him progress. he does ‘level out’ of his character development pretty early and sort of has to retire from the limelight. BUT i love how his coolest as well as his most lovable moments all grow organically out of that original empathy and sensitivity that were his achilles heel. the exact same thing that made me originally go “dude. grow up”? well, turns out he was able to grow up and retain those same ‘embarrassingly defenseless’ traits, and i respect that utterly.

mostly, ‘kindness’ never seems like a boring character trait in edward (as it can be, in some ‘nice’ characters) because for him it’s always accompanied by action. the job swap with thomas. finding trevor a buyer. rescuing boco from the twins. making new-arrival!James bust up laughing to the point of hiccups during the day they were double-heading (awwwww. like, james wasn’t even friends with gordon and henry yet! he was still getting bullied!). i don’t even know where to stop. it’s all fantastic.

i love how ‘edward’s station’ becomes the gossip exchange epicenter as well as ‘THE refuge where everyone bounces when life gets too overwhelming’. *heart. melting.*

TTTE kind of scrubs this out, but i love how in RWS his impatience and impetuosity come across. (this is related to his emotionality.) he is not a paragon of saintly patience. he’s just sweet and eager to please, and that is what seems to help him keep a rein on things (and to obey, the multiple times his driver has to warn him to cool off the speed). but mostly? he just wants to get going. like now, please!!!! (or, like, uhhh, how fast can we home and out of the damn rain? is it a.s.a.p.? i’m rooting for a.s.a.p.)... and it’s adorable.

i also love his RWS “straight face while inwardly mocking the hell out of you” passive-aggressiveness. i just do. oh, dear, edward. you have a patronizing streak. on Sodor, tho? can’t even blame you.

2. Gordon: absolutely. bloody. fantastic.

so essential that if he didn’t exist, we would have to invent him we wouldn’t have a series.

again, leaning pretty heavily on the classic characterization, and not, like... latter-season!Gordon. who apparently fulfills the function of “(stupid) dad figure.”

my Gordon is the social idiot who has no idea how to make friends or win influence. (i sincerely thinks he wants to make friends! but his idea of politicking is “you don’t understand, little thomas... it doesn’t matter where you go, but we are important.” way to build that coalition, dude! *busting up* and yet, i think he’s truly onto something when he tries to critique management and build engine solidarity.)

but he’s also the wily strategic genius (like, by steam engine standards) who came up with the tender engine strike, the month-long campaign to try and get to London, and “he did it to us, we’ll do it to him and see how he likes it” tactic. (misguided? but also... damn. remind me to never get on your bad side, my man.)

the way he craves black-and-white rules spelled out for everything... including the most Gordonian lines ever: “Down a mine, is he? HA HA HAAAAAAA!... Shall we form an alliance? You help me, and I’ll help you.” Oh is that what an alliance is, Gordon? DO EXPLICATE.

A friendship contract. He just spelled out a friendship contract.

The way he takes everything soooo seriously? Like, here he is. Riding a turntable. That’s all. There is literally nothing wrong right now, AND YET:

Anyway. Overall. I love this oblivious hearty dumbass.

“BoCo, my dear engine! S a v e m e...” YOU GREAT HELPLESS LUMP.

it may be no coincidence that my own SO relates so strongly to Gordon, heh

3. Thomas:

“I’m tired of pushing coaches. I want to see the world.” The other engines didn’t take much notice, for Thomas was a little engine with a long tongue.

... that’s it. i was sold. my heart was forfeit.

i love thomas’s complete lack of filter.

if he is being nice or respectful, it’s because he truly wants to help or because you really earned his respect. and, if he’s not, then he is the saltiest bastard on the island, and i love that too. (‘if we hurried over the viaduct, it might collapse! then you’d have no passengers at all. what would you do then?’ ‘run my train on time for one thing!’ omg. omg. omg thomas chill. <3 <3 <3 <3)

4. Duck: what don’t i love about duck? his standing up for himself (and especially for percy) the moment he arrives on sodor. his celebrity crush on City of Truro. his ferocity and loyalty combined. his sound sense + motormouth qualities. prank genius + sportsmanship when outdone

there’s literally no such thing as ‘too perfect.’

also, i love how duck’s one 'flaw’ is ‘a bit too plainspoken and skeptical.’

plus, i’m not sure why TTTE model Duck has golden eyebrows on some of his expressions? but it’s only a bonus:

5. Donald (and Douglas, whom i am upgrading to share this spot despite how much less often i’ve written him into fic and tagged him!):

just brilliant.

debut story:

need i say anything more?

6. BoCo: i give TTTE major props for making boco (for the, like, 3 seasons he appeared) much more interesting than RWS.

RWS = ‘quiet gentle giant, perfect token minority’ C- passing grade

TTTE = ‘hearty, gentle sense of humor but over that is a heavy protective layer of dry, spiky, skeptical toughness’ A 96% (A+ missed out on because why did you make him disappear?!?!?!)

then i learn all this baggage with the real-life CoBos and i was just unable to resist <3 he’s very recently jumped up a bunch of spots

also, TTTE gives him the best angry faces wth. (well, second best. nothing will ever beat gordon’s angry faces. boco’s are pretty damn great tho!)

7. Henry: what i’m really sold on is his characterization arc... which i would call a work of genius but it really wasn’t. poor henry was hated by his own creator (God himself Rev. Awdry planned to keep him in that tunnel forever and, when forced to let him out, wanted to goddamn scrap him by, like, book 6) and yet somehow, despite (because of?) the strife and conflict, came out with the most fascinating story of all.

still, even strictly as a character, i love how multi-faceted he is! he can be a shallow jerk one day, he can moon over his forest the next. (i accept TTTE as canon insofar as his forest. it just... works.) he can be insecure, he can be a total boastful dick.

he can mess with other engines just for the hell of it (laughing at Gordon’s “Tugboat Annie” jokes, and poor, poor Peter Sam!) but he is equally capable of actual relationships (gratefully sticking up for Donald and Douglas, being so gentle with Bear when taking him to the Works).

he loves rubbing salt in wounds even more than the average Sudrian engine (“You need more determation, Percy! Water’s nothing to an engine with determination” omg henry. chill. “It isn’t wrong... but we just don’t do it”... intoned at least twice)

overall, incredibly well-rounded. (sorry you seem to have missed the memo on that, TTTE Season 6 and beyond!!!!!!)

8. Oliver: literally why i have my tumblr name. it’s not so much referring to Bulgy as it is still busting a gut over the way George Carlin reads the (already overdramatic) line: “He’s a mean! scarlet!! deceiver!!!”

Oliver was never fully developed but seems pretty fascinating to me.

He is soooooo keyed-up. I think laughing at his grandiosity disguises some moments of low-key still-grappling-with-genuine-trauma. “We’ve had nearer.” “Yes, sir. I—I look like a load of scrap iron, sir.” Also a massive sense of responsibility: “No, Toad, it’s my fault, and I must put this thing right.” “Oliver smiled. But he felt dreadfully nervous, inside.”

Overall, he seems incredibly tightly-wound to me. His “release valve” seems to be a huge dose of heroic fiction (personally, I think his drivers have read him far too many comic books!) And I kind of hate to see him knocked down so harshly for getting kinda puffed up once he’s safe on Sodor, because in RWS that’s the only time we’ve ever seen him happy and relaxed.

Anyway, super extra boy, must be protected (and kinda laughed over, yes) at all costs. I can see why Toad is so loyal to him despite all his idiocies.

9. James: i don’t actually have a ton to say about james. as usual, i like RWS!james a bit better than TTTE!james, though the latter is excellent entertainment.

i think his anger & spite issues are far greater than his vanity issues.

the latter are fun to make episodes over, but the former are interesting. what happened to you, dude? who hurt you? can we do anything to make it better? <3

underrated characterization moment: ‘you talk too much, little james,’ said gordon. another motormouth! (this is prob. a big reason he and duck don’t get along so well. two of a kind...) but i love this about him. james is never at a loss for something to say! snarky prince.

9. Percy: amusingly, like @togetherness23, i think i’ll put James and Percy on a level.

they hit in such different ways, but i really can’t rank one above the other.

truly like comparing (red!) apples to oranges.

i feel like poor percy’s characterization has drifted badly, even in RWS world. but i will always hold very tightly to his debut book and the study in contrasts:

positively sycophantic around authority people (“oh sir yes sir please sir!”) / cheeky and feisty around other engines (“you have to wheesh loudly just to make yourself heard!”)

totally experienced and competent in a yard, figures out how to run a branch line with extraordinary quickness / a main line signal? his kryptonite! ! ! (which remains an ongoing theme for him!)

also... saltiness. sheer salt:

#ttte analysis #ttte #the railway series #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte henry #ttte gordon #ttte james #ttte percy #ttte duck #ttte donald #ttte douglas #ttte boco

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