this is a redesign/redraw/rehaul of my old SP self insert from almost a year ago now! :3 hopefully some people will (still) be interested in them,, ..
LOOK BELOW FOR MORE INFO ON THEM!!
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things to know about Charlie Cobweb:
they/he/she/any pronouns, they have complicated feelings about gender still.
- personally wise; VERY awkward, accidently blunt, impatient, kinda edgy, tone deaf, emotional, misunderstood often, depressed, gets heated easily, sassy, sarcastic, cant take most things seriously.
- in a band called Atomic Robot Army as the guitarist. With Max ((friends oc/insert)) as the bassist, and Scout/Jeremy as the drummer. ((yeah, we put the guy from TF2 into SP..))
- also roommates with Max and Jeremy.
- Max, Jeremy, and Charlie are all from America, and lived in the same area, yet went to Canada to try and 'tour around the world' as a band, but they ended up giving up and just staying in Canada in an apartment together.
- the Atomic Robot Army band was started when Max, Jeremy, and Charlie were in highschool together, and Charlie suggested they start a band randomly, so they decided why not. Max came up with the band name.
- very into Sci-fi and tech, coding useless things is a pastime of his.
- if you want a movie, album, or show pirated, then shes your guy. just ask for it and she'll have it on a DVD or CD for you somehow, dont question his ways.
- keen music lover, you name it they've listened to it. not a single genre that they HAVENT heard. (unless you're an even bigger music lover, then thats impressive.)
- they also enjoy keeping simple little plants a lot, only indoor though. You'll have to threaten him if you want him to go outside and do yardwork of all things.
- uses their electric guitar to fight (patches up their guitar and apologizes to it as if it was a person after.)
- possibly romantically attracted to his guitar, she wont confirm this nor deny it.
- he paints his nails often, he thinks its pretty fun wearing a different color very few days, though it gets chipped easily.
- one sided hatred towards Scott Pilgrim, dont let Charlie near him or they will JUMP at him.
- friends with Matthew Patel (also has a crush on him), Roxie Richter, Julie Powers, Stephen Stills, and Other Scott.
- has electric powers. Purely emotion driven though, if she feels any emotion intensely then her powers start acting up, this makes them very hard to control sometimes.
- he does weed but a pretty limited amount, mostly uses it if they're stressed or it just feels like a good time. They've also offered weed to Stephen a few times.
(GO CHECK OUT MY BEST FRIENDS BLOG AS WELL, THEY ALSO HAVE AN AWESOME SP SELF INSERT!! @atomic-star-fighter)
so, I'm back on my grind. I really apologize for kinda just leaving for awhile, depression hits hard sadly!! BUT I'm doing very good and I'm excited to be active again!!
(SP AU made with my best friend @atomic-star-fighter <3 GO CHECK THEM OUT!!)
҉ ҉ ҉ ҉
some info about Charlie Cobweb:
- they/she/he/any pronouns
- is in a band called Atomic Robot Army as the guitarist. (with Max ((friends oc/insert)) as the bassist, and Scout/Jeremy as the drummer ((yes the guy from tf2, its funny, ok?)))
- also roommates with Max and Scout
- uses their electric guitar to fight (patches up their guitar and apologizes to it as if it was a person after.)
- one sided hatred towards Scott P (cause funny one sided hatred)
- has a large crush on Matthew Patel (i do irl as well T_T)
- has electric powers (still has no idea how to fight with them though, HA)
- Charlie does weed, and gives Stephen weed (they both have anxiety, man)
- personally wise; pretty awkward, kinda edgy (cause i used to be), very silly, slightly unhinged, little weirdo, sarcastic most times, cant take most things seriously.
*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙
(I plan on making this into a fan comic with said friend, SO MAKE SURE TO HIT THAT BELL AND SMASH LIKE IF YOU WANNA SEE THAT!!)
PAIRINGS: ramona flowers x gideon graves, gideon graves x julie powers, ramona flowers x scott pilgrim
WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, gideon is his own warning soz
SUMMARY: There's something so bittersweet about watching someone get everything you ever wanted. Ramona Flowers wonders what about Julie Powers made her so much more worthy.
A/N: based on an earlier post i made—i wonder how it felt for ramona to see gideon with julie, treating her better than he ever did her? was disappointed with the lack of content concerning them in the anime tbh. also i get embarrassed writing smut so the smut bit in this is incredibly short oops. also i reordered some events that happen in canon bc idk it’s my fic i do what i want
WORD COUNT: 3,965
'Healing' is a word that gets tossed around all willy-nilly, like throwing darts at a board and hoping desperately for them to sink into the center. It's easier said than done, healing is, and more painful than it's worth.
Ramona's working on it. And considering that half of her healing process has been naming a cat after her ex-boyfriend, it's probably obvious to everyone but herself that it isn't going so well. At least, that was before she met Scott.
Call her selfish, whatever, but his presence is something so simple it's insane. He isn't someone she'd ordinarily go for, but his simplicity and harmlessness had drawn her in. Where her last boyfriend was distant and cold, Scott seemed desperate for her attention in a way that Ramona would liken to a stray puppy. Her motivations for pursuing him are, admittedly, formed out of convenience more than anything else. That isn't to say her search for him has been borne out of a strange sense of obligation. Ramona's grown to like him, really, she has. Every dead end is more discouraging than the last, and Ramona's longing for that simplicity back is growing more and more hungry. Gnashing teeth and dripping tongues in the pit of her stomach, yowling to be fed with the only thing that Ramona knows—human contact.
She's sure she seems like a maniac. Walking around and questioning everybody she knows like the goddamn paparazzi, but goddamnit, someone has to know something. She'll do anything to uncover the truth.
Anything, really. Even if anything means reconciling with Gideon.
…
TORONTO, CANADA
FEBRUARY 22, 2005
2:13 PM
FUN FACT! RAMONA FLOWERS IS GOING TO REGRET THIS
Before all this, Ramona's been quoted as saying that Julie Powers is her friend. It's not like she can really blame her for this, considering Ramona's general reluctance to talk about Gideon in any capacity, but that doesn't stop the sour taste that's sitting on the back of her throat, eating away at her tongue like a vat of acid bubbling up over her skin. She stands on Julie's front porch, halfway speechless. Allegedly, Gideon's been hanging out with Julie since Matthew's triumph over him for the League. Ramona hadn't really wanted to believe that, preferring to instead believe that he was rotting somewhere in a ditch, half eaten by rats.
"I'll make this brief."
But she can hear him.
"Tell Ramona to come in here and kick it. We'll watch TV and eat chips," his voice is uncharacteristically bright. He's always been charismatic in all the right places, capable of snaking his way into your life with all the grace and shrewdness of a trained dancer, but this is different. He seems more genuine. Unless Gideon's taken up acting on the side, Ramona feels as if it's real. The very idea of it is enough to make her stomach turn. "Oh no. We're out of chips. Jules, we need chips!"
Julie scoffs, disgust permeating her face, but Ramona can see the underlying affinity she holds for him. "He's such an idiot. You interested in kicking it?"
The relationship Ramona's had with Gideon has been anything but this casual one, entirely foreign to her. She can't imagine ever calling Gideon an idiot. She can't imagine Gideon ever even suggesting she come in and kick it. "Uh, no, that's okay," she's got a chronic case of dry mouth. "So it's you and Gideon now."
The frown on Julie's face suggests that she knows what Ramona's getting at. Maybe it's a long dormant form of girl code or whatever, that thing that had seemed so important in middle school, telling her that maybe dating your friend's ex-boyfriend isn't a good idea. "Me and Gideon? No," she shrugs and rolls her eyes behind wide-lensed glasses. Ramona takes a moment, gaze raking up and down to survey Julie for all she's worth. They're so different. Is that it? Is that why Julie's standing there, holding all the cards in the palm of her hand, instead of Ramona? "That's Gordon. Gordon Goose."
And holy shit.
Something about that, the admission that there's always been an additional facet to him that Ramona never got to know, infuriates Ramona. She grips the strap of her bag with the force of an Olympic-level athlete, knuckles going white with the sheer effort. "You're saying the guy eating chips on your couch is not the former all-powerful gazillionaire I used to date?"
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Gideon—sorry, Gordon—slinks up behind Julie, sliding his hand around her shoulder. It's a small motion, but one that ticks Ramona off nonetheless. Had it been her, that hand would be clutching her waist like she was about to run, fingers grasping at the threads of her clothes. Maybe she's taking this too hard, but the way that he handles Julie like precious china isn't lost on her. "Mona! Hey! It's been a minute, no?"
Mona. Mona Mona Mona. "Ramona," she corrects under her breath. "It's been a minute, sure."
Gordon pouts, cocking his head to the side. Ramona has to admit, he does look different. His hair is more unkempt, uncut, falling in his eyes in a way that the old Gideon would've never stood for. Gone are the blazers and shirts promoting his own brand, replaced with sweats and tank tops that dwarf him even more than his size ever did. "You still mad about the League thing? That was a mistake. I was drunk," he's chewing on the inside of his cheek, and Ramona notes that his eyes are everywhere except on her own. "I've put that behind me now. Growing, changing, you know? Jules has been helping me."
Though her face is deadpan, her poker face legendary, a smile plays at the corners of Julie's lips.
Ramona just wants to curl up and die.
"For what it's worth, though, I am sorry. The League was an immature business venture, I know that now."
The worst of his misdeeds, it seems, has been reduced down to the creation of the League. And maybe he knows, deep down, that there's more to her anger than just the League. In all honesty, Ramona couldn't care less about the League. She cares about the way that Gordon's hand is curled into the small of Julie's back, the way he's standing here and being far more attentive to her than he'd ever been to Ramona, the way neither of them seem to see anything wrong with any of it.
"Yeah," that's all Ramona can squeeze out through her puffed up lungs, so tight in her chest they might just burst. "It's fine. Sure."
Maybe she's being a bitch. For some reason, Ramona doesn't feel all that guilty when Gordon's shoulders sag in disappointment he can't quite mask. Julie sighs and peels herself away from Gordon, stepping into the door. "C'mon. We're going for coffee," and when Gordon pouts at her with furrowed brows, she groans and pulls him in for a brief kiss. "Be back in a bit, baby."
As Gordon's footsteps recede to the living room, where he'll inevitably retire back to the couch, Ramona hears him call back in a sing-song voice, "okay, bye, I'll miss you!"
"I'll fucking miss you more!"
…
Ramona wouldn't say it's awkward, sitting at the low tables at Delicious Cup with Julie, but it certainly isn't comfortable. She keeps catching Julie watching her, as if waiting for her to delve into why she's been such a bitch to Gordon all afternoon. She breaks the silence with a sigh, sets down her cup of tea with folded arms. "Gordon Goose. And... that's working for you?"
Julie purses her lips and makes a circular motion with her coffee, watching the cream swirl into the dark blend. "We understand each other."
Where has Ramona heard that before? You understand me, Mona. Baby, you know what I meant—you know me.
"When I was with him, Gideon—um, Gordon—was a twitchy, rage-filled, impulsive, emotionally abusive, controlling, manipulative egomaniac. But if he makes you happy, that's good, I guess."
Her words are laced with venom. Even if she likes Julie, she can't get over the hill that looms high over her head. They're at an impasse, her and Julie, standing on opposite sides of the street. The light won't go green, not for Ramona. She'll stand on her street corner as long as it takes, watching Julie stand on the other side, safe and sound.
"It's not good. It fucking sucks."
"I'm sorry, what?"
Julie's fingers are flexed out on the tabletop. "When Gordon showed up, he was power-hungry. He wanted revenge. He would have done anything to get his empire back. Ambition is hot. But after a few days, it's like all the evil drained out," she shrugs, "now he just sits on the couch watching anime all day."
Ramona's quick to jump to what seems like the most logical conclusion. There's a fire that's been lit in her heart, an anger she can't put a finger on, because how could Julie yearn for Gideon? How could she wish for what she didn't have, when Gordon sat in the palm of her hand, worshipping the ground she walked on? Ramona would've done anything to get that version of Gideon. Even now, while searching tirelessly for Scott Pilgrim, she isn't sure she wouldn't run right back if given the opportunity to be with this new Gideon. "What if it's an act? I mean, the Gideon I knew was a plotter. The League of Evil Exes could've been some sort of smokescreen for a super-secret kidnapping plot. Maybe none of the other exes were in on it," Ramona hopes, so desperately, it isn't the alternative. "Maybe it was all G-Man."
But something still tastes bad, right on the tip of her tongue like a strawberry gone bad. The sort of taste that lingers, permeating everything you eat for days until some god is merciful enough to take pity on you and relinquish your right to taste. "Or maybe the two of you were in on it together.
That seems to get Julie, who locks Ramona in a frustrated gaze. "Look, I wish that were the case. I wish we were up to some exciting villain business. God knows it would spice things up around the house. But he's just a loser, trust me. You can take him, or us, off your list." Her brows are raised, her eyes half-lidded, and Ramona can tell she's being truthful.
With a sigh of resignation, Ramona gets to her feet, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "One step forward, two steps back," she approaches the door, the slide of her skates on the hardwood too loud in her ears. Everything is too loud. "Thank you, Julie."
She can hear the brrrrring of the bell as she opens the door, halfway out into the chilly Toronto air, when Julie speaks. "Ramona. He's changed. Really," her hands are cupped around her coffee mug, and, though her expression is characteristically flat, Ramona can sense the earnestness in her words. "He's not the same person he was. He's not Gideon."
And that's exactly what Ramona's worried about.
…
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
DECEMBER 8, 2004
9:34 PM
FUN FACT! RAMONA FLOWERS IS HEAD OVER HEELS
Ramona's sat at Gideon's right hand. It isn't often that they go out to dinner, on account of Gideon's packed schedule. She's learned to take what she gets and doesn't complain, even if he's paying more attention to the record execs than her. Still, his hand is settled firmly overtop her own, and, as she picks through a micro green salad that she knows will hardly fill her stomach, she can't help but wonder if this is the best things are going to get for her.
"That's the beauty of it. I mean, the indie scene is incredibly lucrative right now, is it not? All I've done is capitalize on it. Really, it could've been anyone," Gideon boasts, chest puffed out like he's just won best in show, blue ribbon pinned to his breast. "Except it wasn't. G-Man Records is on top."
His investors laugh, tripping over themselves to sing his praises. Ramona can feel a headache forming from all the ass-kissing. Or maybe it's the smell of the man to her right's cologne.
If she didn't know better, Ramona might believe Gideon's forgotten about her being there at all. If it weren't for his thumb dragging lazy circles over her knuckle, she'd be halfway into her own head by now, floating around in her own little world. She's brought out of it by the feeling of his hand creeping up her arm, fingertips hovering above her skin close enough for the hairs to stand on end. His hand comes to a halt on her shoulder, which he squeezes reassuringly. "I think my lady's about ready to turn in for the night. You'll have that budget proposal on my desk by Monday morning, yeah?" Gideon stands, pulling Ramona up with him. His hand is firm on her shoulder, won't take no for an answer, and Ramona follows his motions like a robotically trained, artificial organism. Gideon holds her like he owns her. She isn't sure what to make of it. His other hand hangs from his pant pocket. It's casual, flippant. Everyone in the room is hanging on his every word. He's got them all like chickens wrung by their necks, always eager to please. "Sweetie, shall we?"
Gideon's hand slides from Ramona's shoulder down to her hand, where his fingers settle for linking with her own. Ramona starts for the front door, but is almost immediately tugged in the opposite direction. Towards the bathrooms. She follows, attempting to adopt the chill demeanor that Gideon's put on as they enter the family bathroom. "Are you upset, Mona?" A gentle hand moves to thread itself through her hair. "Your head's on fire."
It happens sometimes. Her head, afflicted with The Glow, pours its sunshine all over the room, illuminating it in a light show of perfect proportions. It was distracting, in the beginning, but now? Ramona sees it as a regular aspect of life. The sky is blue. She lives in New York. Gideon ignores her. Her head glows. Those are givens.
"I'm not upset. I just wish we could have one date night without your investors," they haven't had a real date night in what feels like forever. "It's always Ramona and Gideon and Gideon's record execs. They're literally choking on your dick for attention on our date."
With a scoff, a smirk on his face that Ramona knows means he thinks she's being ridiculous, Gideon leans back against the wooden door of the bathroom. His left hand swings down to press the metal button in the center of the doorknob, pressing it in to lock them inside the bathroom. Sure, they've gotten up to some risky things, but he knows better than anyone that someone walking in on him in a compromising position in the family bathroom at Le Bernardin isn't exactly a good look. "Ha. You're just jealous, sweet thing," he rubs her cheekbone with his thumb.
Ramona knows this song and dance well by now. She gets upset with the lack of interaction, the lack of uninterrupted alone time the two of them get. Gideon lays it on real thick, makes her dizzy in the head and weak in the knees. She's always on the floor in minutes, looking up at him, because she knows that she can make him feel good in a way their unwelcome guests can't. Their relationship is defined by the swiftness with which she can finish him off. A busy man has no need for long, languid sessions. Quickies do him just fine, and if Ramona can make him feel good? She won't pass it up.
"Yeah. I'm jealous. Whatever," she grumbles, bunching up her dress at the waist as she slides to her knees. It's a pretty thing, black and fitted to cling to every curve and contour of her body. Around her neck hangs a silver chain, a simple G charm dangling against her breastbone as she moves. "Doesn't change the fact that you're being an ass."
Getting the buckle of his pants undone is a chore, Ramona's freshly done nails clinking against the metal clasp. "We've got to stop doing this. I don't know how many times I can get you off in a bathroom before it stops being romantic," she muses, gingerly pulling his cock from the cotton boxers that probably cost more than half her rent.
"What, do the Michelin stars not make you feel better about it? I mean, they've got a certification in cleanliness. You're fine."
Ramona chuckles, just slight, and peers up at Gideon with big brown eyes. "I guess the Michelin stars help, sure," her lips close around the tip of his length, and she takes measured care to circle her tongue around the head. She knows it drives him crazy, when she pays extra attention. The groan of affirmation from above is plenty to keep her motivated. With a soft, satisfied hum, she sinks further down, her fingers circling the length she can't quite manage to comfortably fit in her mouth. Ramona takes a moment, allows herself to get used to the weight of his cock on her tongue. It always takes a minute to settle in, but once she's managed, her head begins to move. Slowly, at first. Surely. When Gideon's hand slides into her hair, using the soft pink locks as leverage, she isn't surprised. He's always been a bit of a head pusher, especially when he's in a hurry.
"Fucking hell, sweetheart," Gideon pants, grasping at the smooth wood of the door with his free hand. He isn't managing to gain any leverage, no, but the sound of his perfectly clipped nails scrabbling for dear life against the wood is encouragement enough. "You're so good at this. You know that? So good."
He's well aware of how good his praise feels in her head. It scratches the itch she can never quite reach. Tumbles over her head, makes the sunshine in her brain dim for a few seconds as she basks in the positive feeling. "Hey, Mona, honey," he mumbles, tapping her jaw in warning.
Ramona knows what that means. Between her mouth, plush and warm, and the fact that she's looking up at him like a porn star with hardly any self respect, the dress he bought hugging her body and the necklace branding her as his bumping up against her chest as she bobs her head, he isn't going to last much longer. It only encourages her to keep it up. With her hand tenderly circling the base of his cock, she traces the tip of her tongue over the long vein that runs along the underside. She's well aware of what it does to him. Gideon's grip on her hair tightens, and when he finishes in her mouth, she's well-prepared.
With a low groan, Gideon pulls himself out. Some of his spend leaks out of the corner of Ramona's mouth, and, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she licks it back up into her mouth. Gideon's grasp on her hair is still strong, and he drags her from the floor to her feet. "That's fucking disgusting. Don't be a whore," he murmurs, moving his hand to instead hold her cheeks between his fingertips. He leans up and presses his mouth to hers, a quick peck to avoid getting any of his own cum in his mouth. "Swallow that. And brush your teeth when we get home."
He's tucking himself back into his pants, Ramona at the sinks, when she speaks. "I'm still horny."
Gideon rolls his eyes and leans against the door, watching Ramona fix her hair in the mirror. "You can wait till we get home. I'm not eating you out in here."
Ramona isn't too fussed. She's used to this. Inevitably, once he regains his libido, they'll tumble into the bedroom at home in a flurry of giggles and well-placed gropes. It'll be hard, rough, fast. Nothing slow or sensual, no lovemaking. It's not like Ramona's expecting that. Besides, she likes the rough aspect of it all. Still, sometimes she wishes he was more susceptible to a few sweeter things. Something to remind her that he loves her. Wants to be around her.
"Boo. So unadventurous," Ramona turns to Gideon, pulls open the door, and steps out into the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. Booked up until March, they'd said, but for G-Man? They'd make an exception.
Exceptions are awful hard to come by, aren't they?
…
The sex is good. Great, even. She'd gotten off twice, in a tangle of legs and hands and tongues and teeth. Gideon's tongue had been licking stripes up the column of her neck for most of it, and he nipped at the soft flesh there like a crazed animal, starved for its meat. While he hardly put any stock into devoting moments entirely to her, entirely to her body, he sure knew how to please a woman.
Body covered in bite marks and hickeys, still sensitive to the touch, Ramona rolls onto her side. Gideon's lying there, staring at the ceiling, glasses cast aside long ago. "Hey," she whispers, cupping his cheek and turning his face to look directly at hers. So close their noses are almost touching. "I love you."
Gideon raises his brows and reaches up to touch the dangling charm on her necklace. "Yeah?" He hooks the end of the necklace with his finger, tugging on it just slight. Ramona bites her lip. "The feeling is mutual, sweetie."
Ramona's never been happier. Really. Honestly.
Why does she feel like the sunshine in her head is getting worse?
…
TORONTO, CANADA
FEBRUARY 22, 2005
8:52 PM
FUN FACT! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST
So yeah, sure, maybe Ramona's healing journey is a bust. Maybe it's all a lost cause. She's sitting at her dining room table, a mug of tea cradled in her palms.
In another life, maybe she's with Gordon. Not Gideon. Maybe she's allowed in on the secret identity. Maybe he's telling her he'll miss her when she's gone, that they're out of chips. In another life, Gordon's sitting on the living room couch and begging for her to come watch anime with him.
This isn't that life.
All she can really think, now, is what made her so different from Julie. "He's changed, Ramona."
Had she not been enough to change for? Was it something she did? Said? "Get over it," she murmurs to herself, feet scuffing against the floorboards. "People change all the time. Nothing to do with you."
Except it does have something to do with her, doesn't it? Julie Powers takes it all. Julie Powers is smarter, maybe. Julie Powers is prettier. Julie Powers is more talented. Julie Powers is more deserving, more capable, of loving than she is.
It hurts to think about. A longing ache in her chest, screaming and crying to be taken seriously. The best Ramona's going to get is a lousy 'sorry'. She isn't sure what she wants, exactly. Maybe a different life. A ticket to another universe. Another chance.
She's not certain if she deserves it.
…
Somewhere in Toronto, Gordon Goose and Julie Powers sit on a couch, watching anime. They share a bowl of potato chips, pretending not to giggle when the protagonist acts like an idiot and stealing kisses under the cover of night.
Somewhere in New York, Gideon Graves and Ramona Flowers lay silently in bed. They are strangers.
