Detective Pikachu.
imagine miles’ dad is on his way home one night when he spots spiderman sitting by himself on the roof of a building
he looks small, and lonely, and fragile
and jefferson, who has a son around spiderman’s age, can’t ignore the impulse to make sure he’s okay
so he finds his way to spiderman’s perch and settles down next to him
they sit in silence for a long time, spiderman staring up at the moon in thoughtful silence
it’s almost five minutes before he finally speaks
“i was there, you know”
jefferson doesn’t understand
spiderman hugs his leg to his chest, resting his cheek on his knee as he turns his face to the officer sitting at his side
“when peter died,” he says by way of explanation, and his voice is wavering with the threat of tears. “i’d only had my powers for a day, and i was so scared. i had no idea what was happening to me. but then he showed up.”
jefferson is baffled, his whole world turned on its axis. somehow, he’d never thought about who spiderman had been before he was spiderman. there was a part of him that had just kind of assumed he’d been different from birth. a part of him had bought into the lie that spiderman was indestructible, that he had always known what he was doing and who he was.
“he said he’d teach me,” says spiderman, voice bitter with longing. “he promised he’d show me the ropes and be there for me when i needed him. and then he died.”
“i’m sorry you had to experience that,” says jefferson, because he doesn’t know what else to say. and it’s the most natural feeling in the world to reach out to the young hero and wrap him in a hug.
he fits in jefferson’s arms like he’s always belonged there, and in a moment of clarity, jefferson feels everything click into place
“i watched fisk kill him, and i didn’t do anything,” sobs the child in his arms, the child that jefferson would recognize anywhere, in any life. “it’s my fault he died. i killed spiderman”
“Oh miles,” he says, voice gentle as he reaches down to remove the mask from his son’s face so he can wipe his tears away with gentle fingers. “you didn’t kill spiderman. you brought him back to us.”
I see OP just wants to dehydrate me via crying huh
Look, creators need validation. Yeah, I preach the write for yourself, draw for yourself, CREATE for yourself, which is true. Everyone should create for themselves because it’s THEIR’S and it’ll always hold something special. Create what YOU need. BUT, creators still need the validation.
If someone is putting their creations out there for even 1 person to see, they need the validation that they are GOOD at what they’re doing. If they don’t get the validation, they will stop. Creativity, inspiration, and motivation will come to a halt because creators will no longer feel like people care about what they create. They may do it privately, sure, but YOU will never see any of it again because that validation is gone. That confidence to SHARE with you, is gone.
So, what I’m saying is that if you LIKE your favorite creator’s work whether that be writing, art, graphics, gifs, video edits, etc. you NEED to validate them otherwise you’ll stop seeing new creations. It takes 2 seconds to comment in the tags of a reblog. If you like what someone produced, TELL THEM.
do you ever hear a straight person speak and you’re like “you know what… thank god I’m gay”
Role swap au where Zuko was the Avatar who got frozen for a hundred years, so when he’s rescued from the ice instead of a goofy twelve year old Katara catches this mysterious teenager with long hair and a cool scar and a fucking DRAGON
Katara: BOY???? HOT BOY?????? HOT TEENAGE BOY?????????
Zuko: *speaks*
Katara: nevermind I hate him
How does Aang factor into this? I ask because the more I think about it the more I want him to somehow be trying to capture the Avatar.
Aang is 112 years old, decided he was going to be Zuko’s airbending teacher, and refuses to take no for an answer
Aang: Aw, the new Avatar doesn’t want me.
Aang: *gets out a weighted net* Time for Plan B then.
JDJSHJABDBFJSH
Look, you know how you keep a net from falling on you? YOU AIRBEND IT, SUCKA. Air comes right after fire in the cycle so it’s not like the guy has any other options. Do you want a flaming net falling on you? No? Then learn to airbend. Or this tiny old man will cart you away like a trussed turkey and lecture you about the power of laughter, going with the flow, opening your chakras, and other hippie shit.
Sokka, slouching against a fence, not moving: Oh nooooooo, that creepy old man stole the Avataaaaaaaaaar.
Sokka, sitting down on the ground: We should dooooo something.
Sokka, pulling out his lunch: Otherwise he might actually learn something. That would be teeeerrible.
Katara, indignant rage coursing through her body: Sokka!!!!!!!! We have to go look for him!!!!
Sokka: Might! Actually! Learn! Something! Katara!
Katara: *wavers*
Katara, also sitting down: We have to go look for him…. *gets out her own sandwich* But, maybe after lunch.
I love that this transforms Aang’s role in the full Team Avatar familial situation from the baby of the family to the Grandpa with weird hobbies
My brain, immediately after the “Aang won’t take no for an answer” post:
Aang: I’m gonna ride him! *jumps on Zuko’s shoulders*
Actually, I thought a bit more about this: If Aang is “grandpa figure who won’t fucking stop teaching Zuko to be a better and more spiritually fulfilled person,” then what is Iroh doing?
And then it hit me.
Iroh: *sitting in a teahouse at a paisho table*
Iroh, deadpan: I must capture the last airbender.
Iroh: It is the only way to make sure the powe rof the Avatar won’t be turned on the Fire Nation.
Iroh: Only then will I be redeemed in the eyes of the Fire Lord for my failure at Ba Sing Se.
Iroh: …
Iroh: Anyway, it’s your turn.
About half of the B plots are just Iroh finding new ways to feign incompetence and bad luck so that his political watchdog can’t prove that he’s letting Aang - and by extension Zuko - get away.
Sometimes Iroh plays paisho with Aang, whose entire disguise during these games consists of a painfully fake mustache.
AANG WAS THE OTHER PLAYER IN THAT SCENE OF COURSE IT’S PERFECT (the moustache is just a bit of Appa’s fur tied in a string)
This is how I hold a pen in case you were wondering
git gud
Step aside, boys
>using hands.
plebs.
It got better
ruinedchildhood