#HE DOESN’T LIKE AB/AP???

[gaysforbyler]

If you head cannon Mike as bad at math, I automatically don’t trust your opinion. No one that sucks at math likes physics. He’s such a logistical genius.

[inaflashimagine]

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?” 

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day. 

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks. 

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas. 

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!” 

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from. 

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened? 

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

— 

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained. 

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night. 

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop. 

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises. 

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him. 

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky. 

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet. 

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla. 

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling. 

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada. 

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking. 

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be. 

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises. 

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze. 

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke. 

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden. 

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.   

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.” 

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

[talesofmuscles]

Payday

Nick Walker rushes home from the gym, barely dressed up, as his burglar alarm alerts him of a stranger in his house. He hastily gets out of his car and locks before entering the house. He sees that his backdoor has been broken and there’s footprints leading to his office. Trying to be as sneaky as his body allows him to, Nick walks to the office just to see a thief barely able to reach his prized golden trophy. Not to let someone touch his hard-earned prize, Nick jumps onto the thief and tackles the small man.

“Oh no you don’t buddy,” Nick says as he easily subdues the small thief under his weight and size, “I don’t like it when people steal my stuff.”

“Get off me you roid ape,” the thief squeals as his tiny thin body wiggles around, “let me go.”

“Not a chance,” Nick says as he presses his body harder onto the thief, “do you think I’m going to let you freely take my things?”

“Yes you will,” the thief says with conviction and confidence, “I’m going to take all your shits until you have nothing left.”

Nick is surprised about how sure the man is. “I’m going to just tie you up then,” he is interrupted when he feels something jab his stomach, “what the hell?”

Looking down, Nick sees the thief punch his rock hard stomach with a ring. Nick doesn’t know if he should laugh or question the tiny man's decision. Something about the little man's action seems confident and strange. Then Nick could feel a bit of a tingle on his stomach, like a tiny itchy feeling. The itch slowly spreads around his abdominal area until it creeps outward onto his pectorals, arms, neck and down to his legs. After the itch has spread, Nick feels a painful and major cramp all around his body. It feels like all of his muscles decide to contract at the same time. The force is so hard he knocks him back and puts him on the floor. The thief chuckles as he steps on Nick with his scrawny leg like he just successfully conquered the big man. Nick feels the man's legs get heavy as his muscle loses its mass and size. His pecs push themselves down as they flatten. His roid gut deflates like a balloon as his hard abs soften out. His shoulder narrows out to make his frame look even smaller. Those tree trunk legs would soon become nothing but pathetic twigs. Worst of all, Nick could feel his cock and balls lose their virility. His once majestic bulge that would push his shorts and undergarments to their limit is nothing more but limped nubs. Nick squirms on the floor as the once giant bodybuilder is now nothing but a tiny twiggy man drowning under his own clothes.

The thief, meanwhile, feels his body charges up with energy. All the strength rushes into his small and frail body. His bony legs start to swell up as muscles build upon themselves. The newly grown weight and size of his legs and feet cause the thief to momentarily lose his balance and stumble backward. As he falls, his butts bubble out and act like a giant muscle cushion to break his fall. When he lands, the power rushes forward. His pants, which are not barely holding onto its seams, bursts as his cock gets hard and girthy. His tiny balls inflate and droop down with fertile weight. The thief can feel his guts bubbling up as layers of strong muscles and fat build up. At first, he can see visible deep abs but his stomach soon puffs up like a balloon, leaving it a circular hard gut. The long sleeve shirt that the thief is wearing stretches with the roid gut but it would stretch even more as his flat chest starts to melon up. The thief arches upward and then down as his back muscles plump up. The sleeves of his shirt explode as his arms expand. His biceps and triceps grow and tear apart every inch of the sleeve until his shirt is a mere rag. His neck thickens as the surges travel upward. His honey face soon restructures to have perfect square jaws and a sharp chin. Finally, his frame stretches out to balance his height and thickness.

The now naked muscled thief stands up and is awed by his new body. He flexes his body and tries to kiss his bicep but his muscular shoulders make it almost impossible. Nick slowly wakes up from the daze and is shocked to see the giant man in front of him. Nick is even more mortified as he sees his body become so frail that his clothes feel heavy.

“Now if you excuse me,” the thief laughs as he easily reaches Nick’s trophy and puts it in his bag, “I have a payday to celebrate.”

“Wait you can’t do this,” Nick's voice has become pitchy.

“Or what?” the thief grabs Nick’s clothes and drops the tiny man on the ground. He is having a hard time tucking his erection correctly between the shorts, “you going to stop me?”

Nick trembles on the floor thinking of what he can do as the thief laughs. The thief gets dressed and grabs some more stuff before leaving.

“See you never, shrimp,” the thief says as he drives off.

Nick is still frightened and confused about what just happened. He sits naked and shook on the floor and just hopes it is just a nightmare. Realizing he might catch a cold or someone would see him like this, Nick decides to stand up to close the door and put up any old clothes he has. Before shutting the door, Nick notices a glowing ring at the steps. Realizing it is the ring that the thief used to do the trickery, Nick chuckles a bit and puts it on.

“No, today is my payday,” Nick remarks.

//Special story for @brandedx2. Thank you for your support!

[mightystumpmachine]

Patrick x female reader where she is sad and wants cuddles and he has to find out why she is sad

Heyyy, wassup? Thanks for your idea! Tbh, I didn't know what to come up with to specify the reason for the sadness and make it a bit personal, but I hope you like it! You can always leave me a message with more requests. Love you anonymous user :3

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜・。。・゜★

Dial My Number When Your Heart Feels Heavy.

(Patrick Stump x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You're feeling sad and overwhelmed, and Patrick comes over to your house to comfort you.

Warnings: None really.

Type of fanfic: Fluff; slice of life; slight angst; comfort fic; one-shot.

Notes: Nothing important, just that I imagined all this with Patrick in the AB/AP era.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜・。。・゜★

“I’ll be right there” was the last thing you heard before Patrick hung up the call.

You tossed your phone aside, certain you wouldn’t look at it again for a while. You curled up in the corner of the couch, hugging yourself.

You feelt too stressed and sad, being with anyone but Patrick was the last thing you wanted. So, you decided to call him, knowing he would find a way to make you feel better.

You couldn’t even explain what was going on because as soon as he heard you were feeling down, he interrupted to say he was coming over.

In a way, you were grateful because you didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it was best to forget everything, at least for a while.

About an hour later, which felt almost eternal to you, Patrick entered your apartment (with the key you had entrusted to him months ago).

You locked eyes for a second, and he didn’t need you to say anything. He just approached and hugged you warmly and protectively.

You didn’t cry because you had cried enough already. You just stayed there, immersed in Patrick’s scent and warmth.

He made room for you to snuggle into his chest, and although you didn’t notice, he checked your face from time to time to make sure you weren’t crying.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a considerable time without speaking.

You shook your head, burying your face even deeper into his chest.

He started stroking your hair in an attempt to calm you. He didn’t want to pressure you into talking about what was bothering you. However, for him, just hugging you wasn’t enough.

And all Patrick wanted was to see you doing well.

“Has it been a tough week at work?” he murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You nodded slightly, adding nothing more.Patrick stopped stroking your hair and instead, moved his hand to your back, drawing slow circles.

He took a deep breath before continuing:

“Did something happen at university?” he continued, trying to get you to talk with utmost calm.

“It’s completely suffocating me,” you managed to say, still snuggled in Patrick’s arms. “I’m failing at everything. I’m a complete failure.”

Patrick took your shoulders and gently pulled you away, searching your eyes.

Once your gazes met, you could see his furrowed brow, and the concern in his clear eyes that now looked at you with a hint of irritation.

“Don’t say that,” he told you firmly, almost scolding you. “Everyone has a rough patch, that doesn’t make you a failure.”

Your eyes welled up again, but Patrick didn’t stop his lecture.

“Don’t ever say something like that about yourself again,” he continued firmly. “For God’s sake, why?” His words began to tangle.

“I-I’m sorry, okay? I’m just... just very overwhelmed,” you interrupted him.

Patrick would have continued scolding you about how you should value yourself and talked about improving your self-esteem and self-love. But he simply fell silent, knowing well that this wasn’t the moment.

Instead, he decided to let you snuggle back into his chest, letting you calm down and clear your mind, no matter how long it took.

“Tell me about your day,” you said after a few seconds of silence.

He was surprised to hear your request, not understanding why you wanted to hear about his day at a moment like this.

He had no idea that you just wanted to hear his voice because no matter what he was talking about, listening to him made you feel better.

Besides, you always wanted to know how his day had gone; anything related to him interested you.

“Um... well... today wasn’t exactly a productive day,” he sighed. “I woke up at eleven in the morning and was practicing some songs.”You listened attentively to every word.

“Did you see the guys today?”

“Just Pete. Actually, I was with him before coming here,” you felt Patrick laugh very softly. “He said to let him know if you didn’t feel better after this, so he can kick my ass in person.”

You chuckled lightly.

“I hope you have a bit of mercy on me and don’t let Pete kick my ass,” he joked.

You kept talking for a while longer, and when Patrick noticed he had managed to make you smile timidly more than once, he suggested cooking something to distract you.

You agreed, so he carried you the short distance from the living room to the kitchen, carrying you like a princess.

When you arrived at your destination, he placed you on the counter and stood in front of you, looking at you with a warm smile.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked with a spark of happiness and relief in his eyes seeing you a bit more cheerful.

“I don’t know,” you smiled hesitantly. “Maybe pasta?”

“Pasta will be.”

Patrick took care of gathering the ingredients from the pantry, and you helped with a few things, basically whatever he allowed you to do.

You sat back on the counter, and the two of you continued talking for a while as the kitchen filled with the aroma of spaghetti with Bolognese sauce.

Having Patrick by your side was the breath of fresh air you needed in those moments when you felt so suffocated.

At that moment, it was just you and him, and nothing else mattered.

A couple of hours ago, you were crying, but now you were with the man you considered the kindest and noblest on earth, giving you a taste of the Bolognese sauce he had prepared just for you with a wooden spoon.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly realized Patrick was looking at you, waiting for a response.

“How is it?” he asked again, totally enthusiastic.

“Never leave my side, Stump,” you said after being deep in thought.

Immediately, a smile spread across Patrick’s face.

“Wow! Is the sauce that good?” he exclaimed exaggeratedly. “Don’t tell me I’ve found the secret recipe to keep you close to me.”

You laughed and gave him a playful punch on the arm. “You idiot, you know I’m not talking about the sauce.”

“Oh, I don’t know, because you said it right after tasting it,” he acted surprised. “Now I know I have to make tons of this sauce if you ever get mad at me.”

You shook your head, “I don’t think it works that way,” you laughed.

“Then I’ll learn to make desserts too,” he replied, winking.

Before Patrick could move away from you to continue cooking, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to hug him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he instinctively hugged you around your waist.

You stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying the closeness. Patrick started to stroke your back, filling you with calm and security.

You wished that moment could last forever.

“You know I really appreciate you, right?” you whispered against his neck.

Patrick felt his skin tingle as your breath brushed against it.

“I appreciate you too,” he replied softly. “I’ll never leave you alone ______.”

Eventually, you both pulled back just a little, resting your foreheads together and looking into each other’s eyes. He gave a crooked smile and, without letting go, said: “The pasta is ready. Do you want to eat on the couch? We can watch something on TV, listen to music… or just keep talking.”

You nodded, running your fingers through his short hair. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Patrick served the plates, and together you returned to the couch, where you sat facing each other, legs intertwined under a blanket.

While you ate, Patrick didn’t bring up your troubles. He preferred to lighten the mood with trivial chats and small debates about which artist was better and why.

After dinner, both of you got comfortable on the couch. Patrick pulled you close, and you snuggled into his chest, feeling calm wash over you.

He cleared his throat a bit to get your attention: “So… now that you’re calmer… maybe you’d like to talk about what happened?” he asked, his tone more of a question.

You sighed, as if that exhalation released all the weight and sadness from your shoulders.

You nodded, after everything he had done for you, you felt well enough to finally tell him everything you were feeling.

You knew that no matter the gravity of the issue, Patrick would be there to listen and support you.

And above all, he would give you his love and warmth to make you feel better.

[15-lizards]

ASOIAF American highschool AU bc I want them to suffer

-Jon is that guy you see in the hall all the time and he’s super cute but then you talk to him and he’s just. The most pretentious asshole you’ve ever met. He’s better than you bc he takes AP classes btw. And he’s on the basketball team but he’s brooding so he barely has any friends

-Dany is a little FREAK ugh I love her. She’s a GSA officer and wears weird clothes and cat ears to school and everyone makes fun of her but she’s the nicest person ever. Very passionate ab her special interests. super smart too like no one can say that she isn’t top of class

-Sansa is the nice popular religious girl who likes to make cookies for people. She’s like condescending nice though and is sweet to the losers mostly out of pity. Obsessed with Loras in a comphet way to cover her real crush on Margaery. She is on the swim team and loves to run the student council like the navy

-Arya is on the soccer and basketball team. Slightly to weird to be popular but too cool to be a loser. Kind of disruptive in class but it’s okay bc she’s funny. Definition of a low maintenance girl. Cuts her hair short and likes the way she looks in a sports bra and baggy clothes but has yet to find out what non-binary is

-Robb Homecoming King football captain you get the gist. Sincerely nice and is the one jock who’s on good terms with literally everyone in his classes. Tries his best to defend Jon (it is so hard) Has dated around but his most intense relationship is with his drug dealer burnout bestie Theon. They get jealous when the other starts dating a girl (both of them have yet to find out what bisexualism is)

-Joffrey is a grade A bitchass. He’s on the soccer or lacrosse team only because Cersei bribed the coach. No one really likes him but they hang around him anyway because he has a sick ass house and his moms hot. Thinks he’s smarter than he actually is, maintains a C- average

-Bran is that freshman you only see in khaki shorts and graphic t-shirts about bugs or some shit. Completely lives in his own world (autism slay!) and has trouble interacting with other kids. Besties with Meera and Jojen tho who just get him. Reads big ass philosophy books in his spare time

-Aegon is Dany’s cooler cousin. He’s way more popular than Jon and the two have a one sided rivalry that Jon made up in his head. Pretty nice to other people but he thinks he is such hot shit. His superiority complex is kinda crazy

-Theon graduated last year but still hangs around campus. Goes to Robb’s football games and sells drugs under the stands. “Where’s my hug at” guy. Drives a beat up Honda civic that’s on its last legs. Has multiple misdemeanors on his record. Robb thinks he can fix him

-Loras is Robb’s teammate who’s also mister popular. Already has a scholarship to a D1 school and is every teachers favorite (he takes advantage of this to skip class). Smart but doesn’t really try that hard in class. A classic DL gay guy who is in a situationship with grad student Renly after lying about his age on grindr

-Davos is everyone’s favorite History or English teacher. Gets invested in the students wellbeing. Gay kids LOVE him, he never can have a lunch period to himself those kids who are looking for a father figure are always eating lunch in his classroom. Has a loving wife and kids but is down bad for the eternally suffering Vice Principal Stannis

-Robert is the football coach and in most American schools you have to be a teacher to be a coach so he probably teaches health or sex Ed or some shit. Half asses his classes so he can go over film with his football players instead. You can hear him yelling from across campus. He is so loud

-Stannis is the vice principal who absolutely no one likes except Davos. Even the teachers don’t respect him. Has wanted to be principal for years but keeps getting fucked over by administration. Wants to move to a different school district so he can get a pay raise but the sexy Spanish teacher Mel is trying to convince him to blackmail the school board instead

-Tywin the principal. Used to be a AP US history or AP economics teacher but then discovered that he hated kids so he bullied and bribed his way into the principal position. Kids run when they hear him in the hallway with his walkie talkie crackling and his keys jangling. Lets Joffrey get away with everything bc he’s the principals grandson

-Cersei as the head of the school board. Always shoveling funds to her kids school instead of any of the other ones in the school district. Probably is in some sort of tax evasion or bribery scandal that Tywin is trying to cover up. Number one passive aggressive hater on Facebook

[lino-lov3]

my side - b.c

two — (776 words)

MASTERLIST to be added to the taglist fill out this form!

warnings: swearing

content: crack, fluff

danceracha goes to the studio with chan and help sage & jenni set up the auditorium

a/n: filler chapter since i’ll be double updating tomorrow

This work is NOT to be copied, reposted, translated or plagiarized. Please remember to reblog and leave your feedback if you enjoyed it! - pls do not spam like! you will be blocked.

with the showcase being tomorrow night, danceracha, some of the art and design students and 3racha are going to be setting up the auditorium after school.

which also means you and the rest of danceracha are going to be practicing extra hard tonight. minho has been trying to perfect every move and even came up with a back up plan in case anything goes wrong.

sure, it was stressing you guys out. mainly because the showcase wasn’t just for fun, it’s actually apart of your finals for the semester. but it was still exciting. getting to dance in front of an audience always was for you. it was your dream to do it professionally, but this would have to do for now.

——

after your ap chem class ends and your free period rolls around, you start heading over to chan’s studio with minho, hyunjin, and felix. jisung decides to tag along as well since he had nothing else to do while he waits for his next class. he’ll probably stay until then.

“we’re all going to the auditorium later, right?” felix asks

“mhm. we’re helping jenni and sage set up a little bit and finish the rest tomorrow morning i think.” you reply

“ugh, do we have to?” minho groans

“why are you whining so damn much? all you’ll probably have to do is mic checks and moving props.” hyunjin rolls his eyes at the older.

“shut up. i wanted to take a nap before my next class.”

you pat minho on his shoulder, “min, chill. you’ll be able to take a nap after we’re done. we have a quick stop at the studio to listen to the tracks and probably pre record. then head over to the auditorium after school.”

“that doesn’t sound quick, y/n.”

“yeah, knowing chan we’ll be in the studio for a while. you know he’s a perfectionist.” jisung laughs

“yeah, yeah yeah. come on you four, let’s hurry then.”

—

you shot chan a quick text as the five of you headed up the stairs.

you: hey, we’re down the hall. make sure the door is unlocked

chan: 👍🏻

as soon as you get to the room, jisung swings the door open and plops himself down on the couch. it scares chan nearly half to death since he had his headphones on.

“uh, uh. how come he gets to relax!?” minho huffs

“he doesn’t,” chan answers “ji, get up. i need your help with something.”

“ugh, why?”

chan glares at him, “come on, ji.”

“fine.”

“okay, now that everyone’s in here i’m gonna play the tracks for you. let me know how you like them or if i need to tweak anything and then we can get started. good?”

the rest of you nod. each grabbing a seat and getting comfortable.

the tracks were all amazing, as to be expected. chan had made them so of course they were.

he had given you and the other danceracha members a packet with your lines and highlighted them accordingly.

there were going to be three songs the four of you would perform. wow, taste, and dawn.

they were all more of a sexy beat, which your dance unit favored. it gave felix the chance to show off his abs, hyunjin the chance to stun the crowd with his sensual moves and charming looks, minho the chance to show off his thighs, and you to throw ass if you wanted to.

wow and taste were mostly vocals and you had already heard previews of the lyrics ahead of time so you somewhat new what you were working with. and dawn was a short dance break to go in between those two. like the others, it was slow, sensual, and just your vibe.

chan was amazing.

—

you guys ran threw everything a couple times, pre recording vocals before finally calling it a day and getting ready to leave.

“damn, chan. these are great!” jisung complements

”wasn’t all me. they’ve got the vocals for it. i just write and make beats so what can i say.” chan shrugs

“all jokes aside, you four did great. can’t wait for the show.”

there was about 30 minutes before everyone needed to get to their next classes so you and felix decided you’d go walk around campus in the mean time.

jisung stayed back as planned, minho went to one of the common areas by his next class to nap, and hyunjin went to go meet up with one of his other friends.

“you wanna go off campus and get some food?” felix asks, not looking up from his phone.

“yeah, why not. we have some time to kill anyways.”

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dadonbabysworld @lynanist @lix-ables @xhazmania @strayingawayy

PREV / NEXT

[chasing-chimeras]

it’ll be okay bestie. fuck that prof honestly he’s probably already forgotten ab you being late bc i imagine he’s got lots to do and remember and this is def something small to him, so why should it be big to you! if it makes you feel any better i was late to my grandpa’s funeral bc i pregamed it w my sister (btw i’m not 21) and we had to call our cousin to pick us up bc obvi we couldn’t drive and mind you he was already at the funeral home so that was a 40+ minute round trip for him and i was one of two people doing a eulogy that day. also during my eulogy i threatened god and everyone i talked to after said the priest sitting behind me gave me a dirty look and iced me out for the rest of the funeral AND to make it worse at mass the next day he tried really hard to give me communion and i had to refuse bc i’m not confirmed and he squinted reaaaaal hard at me and looked super stern n shit bc that’s when he knew i wasn’t religious. when we did the peace be w you stuff he was a total dick ab it too. imagine being hated by a priest just bc of your personality lmao

but here’s an actual story about me sleeping past my alarm: i missed a really important group presentation for an AP class in high school bc i slept past my alarm. my group was furious with me (i was friends with all of them, they weren’t just people from class) and my teacher (who’s the chillest guy ever) said he was disappointed in me. it really sucked. and that year i had a friend who picked me up every morning and she was also in my group so i woke up to dozens of texts and calls from her and i felt soooo incredibly guilty for making her late too.

but yknow what these two stories have in common? i don’t care about it anymore. the situation is over and done with and there’s nothing i can do to change it bc shit happens. i honestly really hope you feel better, sometimes you just gotta let things like this go. life goes on. be a goldfish

🥺🥺🥺 sorry this took me so long to reply to, i queued a bunch of moodboards and then got completely sidetracked but you’re so sweet and this was incredibly helpful lol oversleeping sucks but you’re absolutely right it’s over and it doesn’t matter anymore. btw i showed this to my bf and every time i’ve gotten stressed about something the past day/two he looks at me and says “be a goldfish” and it’s actually working lol(also sounds like one hell of a eulogy, i’m sorry that father downer didn’t appreciate it 😕)

[cyarsk5230]

Kendrick Hates Drake: ‘euphoria’ is Deeper Than Hip-Hop Beef

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In the world of Hip-Hop diss tracks, time is of the essence. So the three weeks since Drake dropped “Push-Ups” in response to Kendrick Lamar’s “Like That” verse feels like a relative eternity not to hear back from K. Dot.

So when the Compton emcee dropped his much-awaited response “euphoria” Tuesday morning, those of us who’ve been waiting with bated breath stopped what we were doing and scrambled for the headphones. 

Blackness in your inbox daily. Subscribe to The Root.

Indeed, “euphoria” is what many of us were waiting for: A scathing, incisive 6-minute 24-second heat rock that’s killing productivity in workplaces nationwide as I type. But it also demonstrates that Drake and Kendrick have completely different approaches to rap beef.

A recap of how we got here: After years of trading subliminal shots toward each other, Kendrick finally upped the ante in March with pointed disses in his surprise appearance on “Like That” on Future and Metro Boomin’s album “We Don’t Trust You.” Drake responded three weeks later with “Push Ups,” and again the following week with “Taylor Made,” a track on which he used AI voice filters of 2Pac and Snoop Dogg to urge Kendrick to respond. 

While everyone was speculating when – or if – Kendrick would respond, he sent a simple, understated tweet of a YouTube link and the track title on Tuesday, officially putting the battle into full motion.

While Drake fires his shots with the steely calm of a sniper reloading the chamber, Kendrick Lamar is closer to Tony Montana, yelling while dumping clips from his machine gun. That’s not to say that Kendrick’s rhymes here aren’t intentional or calculated — both rappers are at the top of their game. But on “Push Ups,” Drake used witty, dismissive punchlines and a catchy, patronizing chorus. 

In contrast, “Euphoria” is a relentless, snarling assault — more than six minutes of insults making up for lost time.

Disses by Future, A$AP Rocky, and Rick Ross in recent weeks have shown that there’s plenty of ammunition to send Drake’s way. Kendrick doesn’t offer much as far as new information (other than alleging that Drake tried to a file cease and desist order for “Like That”) in “euphoria,” but he brings a tenacity to their feud that Drake’s other foes haven’t while presenting “euphoria” as a disambiguation of all anti-Drake sentiments. 

Kendrick pokes fun at Drake for not responding to Pusha T’s “Story of Adidon,” retreads Push and Ross’ insults of racial insecurity, disses him for getting help writing his rhymes, repeats the viral accusations of him having fake abs and labels the Canadian rapper a misogynist.

In true K. Dot fashion, there appear to be a few jewels beneath the surface. The song is six minutes long — a sly reference to Drake’s nickname 6 God. “euphoria” is the same name of the TV show Drake produces that has been criticized for its sexualization of minors — allegations that Drizzy himself has battled for years. There’s even a clip circulating on social media that translates the reversed audio in the song’s intro. 

But perhaps the funniest and most telling lyric is the most pointed: “This ain’t been ‘bout critics, not about gimmicks, not about who the greatest / It’s always been about love and hate, now let me say I’m the biggest hater,” Kendrick raps. “I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk / I hate the way that you dress I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it’s gon’ be direct.”

 Kendrick doesn’t just want to battle Drake for rap supremacy, because he already feels like he has the top spot. He can’t stand Drake, and he’s thrilled by the opportunity to take him down.

Blackness in your inbox daily. Subscribe to The Root.

[meowzfordayz]

Ripp, hopefully you got some progress done on that paper and did well on your exam? 🥺 I totally feel ya with chem- my AP exam is coming up fast 😪 I think I got somewhere in the 50% range on my mock which earned me a 3, so hey I’m still probably passing the real thing at least! 🥲 Istg I went into this class fr thinking I could get a 4 or a 5 and got humbled RQ as the year progressed LMAO. Oh well, I’m just desperate for that college credit atp haha 💪 I did recently get a 100 on an in-class history essay tho, so pretty proud ab that at least! ☺️

Ah yeah, that’s a topic that can get pretty messy and heated 😬 Glad you’re not going to entertain the hate tho, and hopefully it‘ll be your last!! 😌

I’m doing alright for the most part; just dealing with some cliché academic stress and a bit of boy drama (especially now that prom season is here 😖), but I’m managing- tysm for asking!! 💕

Where I’m at it seems like we’re finally getting over a bout of chilly clouds and rain (a bit sad since that’s my type of weather 🌧️) and headed into warmer weather that actually feels like spring/summer! ☀️🏖️ I’m definitely excited since school’s almost done, but also nervous since I’m going to be focusing and stressing on more on college-related matters and possibly my first real job?? 👀 I feel quite wistful looking back at all my past summers when I could be completely carefree without the pressure or responsibility of almost being an adult, but time flies fast and sooner or later we all have to grow up, right? Lmao, hopefully that doesn’t sound too pretentious- 😅

- 💜

P.s. Tysm for the kind words in your shoutout; it means a lot! Ty as well for always being such a lovely person to talk with!! 🥺💕💕

Hiya! 😁

I finished my paper ~early last Friday (@ 5pm — it was due 11:59pm 😏), and got a C on my orgo chem exam. 🥳 As long as I get C’s (or higher lmao) on exams, and A’s on everything else, then I’m guaranteed a B overall (aka how I’ve earned B’s in all my chem classes thus far lol). 🤓 AP Chem sounds HARD. 😭 I’m rooting for you !! 🤞🏽 (and I’m proud of you & your 100 😍)

It’s almost summer — hang in there !! 😤☀️ But ooh boy drama ????? 👀 I made a deal w/ my friend freshman yr that if neither of us had dates, then we’d go together. 🤝 We ended up getting sushi beforehand 😋, and then attending prom afterwards. He’s still a friend, and I’m grateful for him. 💞

Your first real job?! That’s so exciting !! 🫢 I started working @ 16, so I’ve actually been working for… 7 yrs now (through college). 🥲 Adulthood’s def glorified when you’re younger, but (imo) don’t let ~reality bog you down too much either !! 🤪

It’s absolutely a give & take, gains & losses — lots of growing, some bits wonderful, and others bittersweet. Being aware of my privilege and opportunities has been super helpful for me in terms of not taking things for granted, as well as developing a strong work ethic + putting forth effort that *I’m* proud of myself for. ☺️ Never be afraid to ask for help, but also try your own best first and foremost❣️

I hope the future treats you kindly, and that you trust in yourself and your choices. 💗 Sending you almost-Friyay vibes !! 🤗

P.S. College does matter—it’s an amazing privilege and opportunity—buuut at the same time, it doesn’t determine the rest of your life, so don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

[passivenovember]

First chapter in Brush Fire, my shovel-talk fic wherein random adults and people in Billy’s life give Steve the shovel talk as the two fall, painfully, in love.

--

One: Carol

--

Thing is, Billy’s just Nancy Wheeler painted in contrasting shades of bullshit.

And Steve can’t pinpoint the day Hargrove turned into Billy, into a kaleidoscope that bleeds beyond asshole and dickwipe and evil step-brother, but really it’s all a side effect. A symptom of what’s coming, like a cough he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. 

‘Cause at the end of the day Billy’s smart and Steve. 

He’s got a thing for Brainiacs. 

The kind of smarts that could win bar trivia. Pay for a vacation to Europe with the money from an episode of Pyramid. Even better if the guy’s got claws. Pretty eyes that narrow alongside cheeks that blush pink and red, like gumdrops. 

“Help me write my essay,” Steve tells him, waiting outside Billy’s Advanced College Placement class with his collar popped. 

Billy’s smiling before Steve speaks to him. He’s chatting, limbs soft and smile wide, dorky, and then he hears that voice. Goes shocked still. Looks like he’s gonna piss his pants.

“I’ll, uh, see ya later, Bills,” Says that girl. Barb Holland. She pokes at the bridge of her glasses and disappears around the corner, shooting these worried little glances at Billy like he can’t take care of himself. Like he isn’t Hawkins High’s resident bad boy, player, macho-nacho–-

“What do you want, Harrington?” 

Billy’s teeth were pretty, Steve notes, when he was smiling. When he was happy. Now he's got this searing little twist to his lip, saddled with this sudden crash to reality. Steve shoves off the locker to make room for a pee-wee dork that says excuse me, calculating the way Billy’s baby blues have gone dry.

He’s exhausted and tired of it. Sick down to his fifteen-pack abs. 

“I want you to write my essay,” Steve repeats, thinking if he’s more direct Billy will go for it. 

Hargrove puffs out his chest. Squares his jaw. “Fuck no.” He says. Needing the fight.

“Wasn’t asking,” Steve says.

“I’m not writing your essay for you, dickweed.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“'cause no one’s gonna believe you can spell multi-syllable words,” Billy spits, “And I’m not dumbing myself down to whatever kindergarten level class you’re taking–-”

“God, you’re a menace. You’re a forest fire.”

Billy’s cheeks flare at that. Bright red, freckles punching through like holes in notebook paper and Steve knows it.

He’s got him. Hook and line, just like Nancy, but then Billy’s walking off down the hallway. Leaning in a little hard with his boots, stomping holes into the cement. 

Steve follows after him. Says, “I’ll pay you.”

And Billy says, “I don’t want your money.”

That makes Steve laugh. Loud and sudden. “Everyone wants my money.”

“Everyone wants you, right? King Steve. Whole place’d probably shut down if you graduated, right? Need the golden boy around. The gold eggs he lays in the shit-covered green just outside B-Hall,” Hargrove leads them round the corner, stopping to dial and yank his locker open. “God, you’re a fucker–”

“And you’ve got the highest marks in AP English,” Steve says. He leans against the metal closest to Billy, foot propped to pass the time. 

He'll wait.

He’s already won. He’s got what he came here for, but Billy needs time to work it out for himself. All those brains behind pretty blonde princess curls and Billy devotes all his energy to the glare Steve's pinned with. Billy hisses and spits like a drowned kitten, thinking he’s tough. 

“Not wasting my time on you, Harrington,” Billy says. Like it’s supposed to hurt. “You’re a lost cause. Might as well get Wheeler to suck your dick and write that shit for you-–”

“Watch your mouth," Steve says gently.

 Gotta be patient. Give the boy room to think it over, run it back, mold his pretty pinks into an apology. 

"Nancy and I broke up," Steve says, like it matters. 

Like the way his voice still hitches a little, at the end, shaky and vulnerable, will make a difference.

It does and it doesn't. "What would you even write about," Billy demands, ignoring him. "Being rich? How it feels to be born with a silver fucking spoon in your mouth?"

Steve tenses all over, poised to take the heat of Billy's onslaught if it'll get him what he wants.

Billy lens in presses harder. "Oh, what about the way you're a washed-up beauty queen? You gonna cry about the hours and hours you put into impressing the cows around here only to have them run right over your perfect hair to get to the next freak on the list?"

Steve won't bite. "You think my hair's perfect?" 

And maybe that's a step too far. 

Billy grips the metal locker so tight the thing almost groans, baby blues laced with a challenge. That little lip twist has turned into a snarl and Steve.

Almost backs away. 

Almost backs down.

But the flush is packed on like fresh snow, glittering and saturated with pinks and magentas. Steve really does need help with his essay, so he leans closer. Says, "What can I do to get your help on this?" 

And waits for the walls to crumble around them.

--

“You’re not fooling anyone, Harrington,” Carol says. "You think you've got this whole school wrapped around your fingers but I see what you're doing."

And Steve knows it's Carol without having to look up from the pin-lanes scribbled in red across his essay. Knows it without swallowing the tucked-away mashed potatoes at the corner of his mouth. Knows her voice like he knew the chimes that signaled the end of nap time, all those years ago. The stick of a bandaid peeled from her skin and patted, harshly, onto his before another go on the tire swing. 

He doesn’t look up at her to point out that, “If I were smart enough to fool anyone I wouldn’t need help editing this fuckin’ thing.”

But Carol doesn’t stop. Keeps rolling on. Says, in that special shade of periwinkle irritation that she used to save for Tommy, “You could’ve asked someone else.”

Steve glances at her. Notices her hair’s different. “What do you mean?”

“Billy,” Carol spits. Word travels fast. She looks over her shoulder. Scans the lunch room as if afraid that he’ll spring up from the linoleum. Knock the tray out of her fist, or something. She turns back, eyes narrowed. “You could’ve asked anyone else–-”

“He’s got the best marks in English.”

“So?”

“Like I’m gonna hinge my future on someone with anything less than a perfect grade,” Steve chuckles, trying to change its tune somewhere in the middle so Carol doesn’t take this as a notice of war. “Look, the guy’s my ticket outta this shithole.”

“Harrington, you’re stuck. Like the rest of us.” Carol says.

And the thing is? Carol was the first girl who proved chicks could be cool and dangerous and three-dimensional. They were flirts at one point and friends, way before that, giggles and weekend sleepovers stretching all the way back to a blue, cloud-covered room Steve can hardly remember, so. 

He knows Carol. 

Maybe not as well as he used to, but. He knows the girl. Feels like she’s got his neck in her fist, from how tight she’s gripping the lunch tray. Senses that if he makes one step out of line, she’ll dig her fangs into him. 

“What’s your deal, Perkins?”

Carol’s eyes could melt through bone. 

Steve takes the last bite of his mashed potatoes before shoving his tray to the other side of the table. “You got a crush on him or something?"

"What?" Carol says, incredulous.

"Look, I know you're sweet on him--"

"Harrington, you're such a skeez if you thought, for even a minute that I'd ever do that to Tommy--"

"Alright, you're friends will Billy, then," Steve says, exhausted from the theatrics. "You're like his scary big sister, protecting him from the wolf in GAP clothing."

"You're such a dumbass," Carol groans, like Steve's whole thing is getting old and she wishes he'd call it a day. "Why don't you beg Wheeler to tutor you?"

"This conversation is melting my brain."

"Seriously, it's not like she'd say no," Carol says, "She's still got a soft spot for you even if Byers is stuffing her full on a daily basis--"

"--Billy's got a better grade than Nance--"

"--I mean, seriously. Couldn't you pick on someone in your own academic caste?"

"Jesus, Carol, why do you care so much?" Steve drops the act, the good-natured small talk for old time's sake, and lets his words land like fists on the rickety table top. 

All at once, Carol looks older. Wiser and mean and so, so worried. 

"You know what your problem is, Harrington?"

"Enlighten me," Steve says, bored.

"You've never been told no a day in your life."

Billy walks through the lunchroom doors, then, a copy of Moby Dick under one arm and a spiral notebook snatched under the base of his lunch tray. His arms, stiff with forced swagger as he scans the crowd for Steve, jerk when they spot one another.

His cheeks are pink. 

From a million miles away, swimming through a river of pissed-off Perkins, Steve can see it. 

"That boy isn't any different from the rest of us," Carol says tightly. She grips her own lunch tray, and says, "He's sensitive."

Steve opens his mouth to shit all over the floor, and.

"He is," Carol tells him. "Think whatever you want to but I know him. Billy's rough around the edges but he's smart. Too smart for his own good--"

"Smart enough to deal with me?"

Carol's mouth snaps shut, frowning as Steve moves his lunch tray and Billy floats into view. 

"Harrington," He says sharply. Then, to Carol, "Perch Perkins, looking frosty today."

"Fuck off, Malibu Barbie," Carol says, but there's a softness there that takes Steve back to kindergarten. 

He swallows against a pang of jealousy, tracking the way her eyes go warm for this asshole.

Billy tacks a wet kiss to her forehead and then plops down onto the bench across from Steve, flipping to a blank page in his notebook, and Carol sulks away, looking every bit like she'd burn down the world to protect him.

--

Steve wishes he had been smart enough to recognize that conversation for what it was.

The first in a long line of people that, in the pit of themselves, for better or worse, whether they knew it or not: loved Billy Hargrove.

[ushidoux]

tw: minors dni, this is short smutty crack lol enjoy

While you love him, Ushijima can be terribly hard to live with.

He can be rigid and particular with his routines, often oscillates wildly between being overly attentive to your person but also completely unaware of your emotions at times, and most irritatingly, has a tendency to intermittently vanish into thin air, particularly when there are pressing deadlines, whether sports or sponsorship related.

He’s a busy, busy, busy man.

You try to be understanding of course, because your professional athlete’s more extreme qualities are part of what made him so successful in his craft, and you love all parts of him, not just the parts that are easy to love.

But damn, he can really piss you off.

When he rushes into the apartment to grab a manila envelope off the dinner table and a banana for a quick snack off the kitchen counter without giving you anything more than an affectionate nod before rushing back out, you decide to go nuclear.

A sex strike.

It’s immature that you’ve decided this is your way to retaliate, especially when he does make it into bed before you’ve passed out around midnight, presses a kiss to the back of your neck, and hooks an arm around your waist, only to be told quite harshly that you’re “not a walking fleshlight.”

He is taken aback, but he understands no is no and retracts the hand that had been inching towards your sweet pussy. Maybe you wanted to feel his touch, maybe you craved it after all this time, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna back down now that you’d dug in your heels.

Days pass, and while he continues to try to touch and hold you whenever he is available, you rebuff every advance and he doesn’t make a single complaint. He is a gentleman, after all.

A couple of weeks pass, and he starts to realize you mean business, and the ache in his cock becomes almost unbearable when he sees you running around the house in intentionally skimpy and provocative daywear, and straight up lingerie for bed. 

It’s a low blow.

He knows exactly what you’re doing, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

There is a climax when you make your way back home in the early evening and swing the door open only to find him, all 6′4 and 200 pounds of him, standing in the doorway, somehow more naked than he’s ever been in his life and with a very obvious frown on his handsome face.

You almost drop your groceries.

“Toshi, what the fuck-” you start, then trail off, remembering that your apartment is in the middle of the hallway and you have neighbors that will come out if you scream.

The simple fact that Wakatoshi is completely indecent and anyone can see him does not seem to faze him for a second.

In fact, his eyes are narrowed and dreadfully serious, almost as stern as he is on the court, and his thick arms are crossed over his chest as though he’s legitimately disappointed in you. Your eyes slide to the equally girthy, neglected cock that stands up at attention, pressed against his sculpted abs.

“CAN YOU NOT-”

It’s only now that you can suddenly hear the blaring music behind his completely stoic form, and a terribly pointed chorus suddenly fills your ears:

Suck a n***a dick or something x 4

(Plain Jane by A$AP Ferg, exactly 1:32)

[earlgreytea68]

have you ever thought about twin skeletons as a peterick song? it fits so well

YES.

Okay, this *brutal, brutal* song.

Usually when you can discern Peterick in Pete's lyrics, it's soft and sweet and magical. Patrick is golden and sunshine and true blue.

But once upon a time these two absolutely self-destructed together, and this is the spin-out song, this is the song where it's disintegrating inside their hands. This is the song where Pete feels the inevitability of their collapse (this is "our fate"). He feels bad about the whole thing, like, how did they get here, let's take a moment to feel sorry for ourselves (it "deserves our pity"), but at the same time he wishes he could forget it, especially since he blames himself, all those promises he made if (Patrick) would just stay, he doesn't want to remember them now.

This song's first verse has the sexiest, lustiest lyrics and they just absolutely kill me, there is such depth of ardent longing in the lyrics, such willingness to put up with absolutely anything for a few more minutes with (him), just enough of (him) to dull the pain. You know how Pete says they communicate using cryptophasia? The term for a language created and understood by twins. That's he wants: to be twins again. Sure, it's about sex, but sex is never actually about sex in Pete's lyrics, Pete's lyrics are always yearning for more than sex. He wants comfort, he wants connection, he wants the end of the artifice, to be stripped bare and just *be.* The "saints just swimming in our sins" can be a pretty little sex allusion, or it could just be that he wants to be all of himself, both halves, and have that be okay, have the other person jump in and join him, no judgment.

But he can't get there. There's a jet black crow droning on and on and on and on and on and that verse ends with what reads as this hesitant, halting declaration of love: "Keep making trouble 'til you find what you love." And is there any more devastating line in all of Pete Wentz's lyrics of rejection than: "I need a new partner in crime, and you? You shrug." OH MY GOD THAT LINE. I will never, ever get over the absolute brutality of that line. "Keep making trouble 'til you find what you love," thinks Pete, and looks across this room in New York City at this person who can get him through the night, and he says carefully, "I need a new partner in crime," I need someone else to make trouble with, be that person with me, he reaches out--and THEY SHRUG OH MY GOD. Like that is so much worse than saying no. That utter and complete indifference to the level of emotion that these lyrics are drowning in, CONTINUING TO KILL ME.

The second verse reads to me like determination in the face of that rejection. "Oh, yeah? Well, fuck you. Every death is also a birth (and vice versa) and I've been to hell and back but this won't keep me down, and YOU, and your SPIRAL OF SHAME, LET ME DIE LAUGHING ON IT." Okay, maybe *that* is the only other line as devastating. I CAN JUST DIE LAUGHING ON YOUR SPIRAL OF SHAME. The knowing, sardonic disgust in that line, HONESTLY, THIS SONG, IT IS RELENTLESS. I don't think Pete is actually cruel enough to have mocked Patrick's ultimate spiral, but I do think Pete, when hurting, when faced with a shrug, is definitely capable of lashing out and being like, "NO TIME FOR YOU NOW, BUDDY." DEFINITELY. This is the Pete who insisted through most of the hiatus that he would never play for Fall Out Boy ever again.

And this is also the Pete who appears to have conveniently forgotten that he was ever that vicious, because for all of its anger and vitriol, this song isn't actually called Hotel in NYC. In the end, this song isn't *actually* about that. This song is called Twin Skeleton's. This song is named for the references of linked togetherness: of being stripped away to your essential self and having the only other person there who understands you. These are the twin skeletons on the cover of the Believers Never Die albums, the two curled together for eternity (who, incidentally, turned out to be two guys). But it's not just twin skeletons, it's possessive: Twin Skeleton's Hotel in NYC. The Twin Skeleton, a duo that is in fact a single entity, and *their* hotel in NYC. Where a lot of stuff went down but you know what? It was *theirs,* and you know how this song ends?

Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on...

I always think of this song in the same breath as "Hum Hallelujah," only because in my head they are both songs where every single line is a tour de force lyric that just bangs and bangs at you. But the way Patrick *snarls* these lyrics just sets it apart, and then the way he sets up those "hold on"s at the end, and carries all of us out with them, the way, in the repetition, it becomes not a lyric out of Pete but a promise out of Patrick. I cannot imagine what it was like when AB/AP dropped and the last song on the album was...that. Like...mic drop.

[adam-banks2024]

Deja Vu

Part 1

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly

He’s insufferable

He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.

He is insufferable.

And I have to deal with him.

Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago. 

I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.

Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.

When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.

“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.

To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness. 

I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.

Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say. 

“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?

He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”

I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.

“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.” 

Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.

My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”

He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”

“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work

Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”

I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”

Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.

“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.

He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--” 

“That I’m not good enough…”

He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.

“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”

I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.” 

He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up. 

Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.

“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.

The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.

It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?

“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”

I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.

He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”

I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”

I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”

He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face. 

I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path. 

“What do I get out of it?”

The audacity.

“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”

So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”

He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Watch it.” His voice was stern.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”

Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

S3 ep5

Current emotional status: FEAR

Cthulu Max has been on the rampage for a whole week!?

Ew, the narrator

Oh man, are they sending the airforce after him?

I really like Cthulu Max's design

Momma Bosco 💗

Oh hey, Norrington and Papierwaite are alive.

Superball are you saying you tried to send the Maimtrons up Max's--

Also he's acting president while Max is... deposed of.

Superball is only giving Sam until 6am :(

Featherly!

"Wandering around the moleman tunnels is no fun without Max."

"You got it all wrong, we're trying to help Max." "We will help him... to a generous serving of ass whooping."

"That is one rabbit who will be multiplied... into 2,000 smoldering pieces."

Carol ran off with Blustet

"I only want her to be happy, is all." Aw, Curt

Superball just admitted to having separation anxiety from Max

Ok Momma can't come but Papierwaite and Norringron can.

I like Norrington :)

GASP

Is it?

It is!

SYBIL!!!!

RETURN OF THE QUEEN

Oh, she is very pregnant

She was a wizard at one point?

She's gonna help!

Superball there's no such thing as acceptable losses

Abe has his body back

"Four score and seven tons of raw power"

HE CAN FLY NOW!?

Sybil, I love you, but why did you mod someone else's car???

Grandpa Stinky I love you

Oh, he just handed us the recipe for once.

Asdfff the spore maxes swarming Grandpa

They stole Grandpa's hotdogs

"We must feed the host! Piglets and sphinkters make us stronger!" "We regret nothing!"

Grandpa hasn't slept in three years

Sam just casually taking the last of Grandpa's corndogs

The spores are trying to get it

Lol Sam slapped them

Sal's alive!

He's hiding from Sam :(

Lol we can control Cthulu Max with Corndogs

Ew, the cornstarch got mixed in with the giant puddle 🤢 Looks gross

Love how Sybil completely ignores the Flaming Max head

Also the look of disappointment on the spore's face made me laugh

Fifth trimester???

The way the one Max spore by Grandpa's truck is bobbing in circles with his mouth open is making me laugh.

Sam showing concern for Sybil because she’s preggers 🥺

Her being pregnant with Abe's child implies that statues have working genital in this universe

She put a weiner scented airfreshener in the desoto

At least Sam and a Max spore seem to like that (of course they do)

"Sybil you're the best!" Hell yeah she is!

Sam's mind went to the color bar codes to prevent being traumatized by Sybil's oversharing

We drowned the desoto

Asdfgh Sam just botched slapped one of the spores for trying to say "that's none of your damn buisness."

Ew, Max's spine is pointing out

Oh hey, Satan and Jurgen

Why is Jurgen wearing his old fashioned clothes instead of his emo clothes?

Lol Sam snuck into frame to shout "Go Mets! New York rules!"

"--besides it's just a good and noble thing to do." "You're not familiar with my previous work, are you?"

"Sam, what happened to you to make you so cynical?" Gee, Jurgen, I wonder what could have possibly happened.

Oh so the water tower counts as vegetable oil because Momma did something to it

Pfft we can replace Satan's microphone with a corndog

Omg they jumped off the building to avoid Max

Oh, they're fine, and the oil is in the giant puddle.

I'm thankful to Featherly for giving us an egg but I'd have preferred not to watch him lay it. Granted it was just in a cartoon way but he still made weird noises

Also TRANS FEATHERLY 2021

"I desperately wanted to see that, sir. Ask him if he'll lay another one."

Oh hey, the Flaming Max heads helped heat up the giant desoto corndog

Since I'm playing this in 2021 the Maimtron's song references are super dated, which defeats Superball's efforts

Oooh! A unique opening sequence???

Oh this music is jazzy af

Sam really doesn't like the Max spores

Sam how do you already know what Max's insides look like???

"Even when he's not a collasal monster Max's food comas can last for weeks."

Ok we wake Max up with the coffee beans, right?

Yup!

The gi Max spore is so sad he doesn't get to come 😢

"But I'm a horrible monster!"

"I suppose Max's brain always looks like a living room?" "Well, Max is host to all kinds of weird parasites, and he likes to he a good host!" WHAT

No really, this brings up so many questions about lagomorphs. Are they some kind of Symbiote or something?

And a previous episode confirmed Max is amphibious

Max has tumors!!!

It shocked Sam!

"Eugh! Get away fake Max!" "Do you find my warmth... alarming, Sam?"

"What do nightmares taste like, anyway?" "Pepsi"

Max wants to be author 💗

He also writes fanfiction about Flint 🤣

I'd unironically read his books.

Tina Belcher voice: Friend fiction

Max has an experimental fusion jazz band???

"He just killed a great white shark--"

Max being completely unable to describe a woman is very gay of him. Good for him.

Max's brain teleported everyone to different parts of the body.

Found Sybil in the gym/legs

The brain is broadcasting Sam's thoughts???

Sam couldn't think of a joke for the medicine balls :(

"Wow Max is looking pretty buff. Would it be too weird if I asked him to turn around?"

Sam! Stop thinking bad things about Sybil's pregnancy she can hear you you putz!

She's upset with him now

"Can you believe this guy?" "I find the entire situation to be very contrived and misogynistic." Same spore Max, same.

Sam stop being so mean omg!

"I changed Sybil, I totally get the whole parenthood thing now." "Really now?" "Tax deductions."

In Max's inventory now

Y'know, I never really thought about it as a storage house

Hit The Road reference :3

Baby roach hatched in

"Pa..papa?" "Now I am little champion, now I am!"

Max has a Maximus shrine

Sam turned into a roomba!

Aw, he named it Sam Jr 🥺

We won Sybil back through his love of Sam Jr

Found the conjoined twins

Huh, Max lost as eye. Does that mean he has a glass one, or do lagomorphs have regenerative abilities?

Pfft we have to play twister to control his arma

The brain is messing with things again

Oh, we need a roach to operate the game because of radiation

Well, let's kidnap Sal

Oh, poor Girl Stinky. She's really going through it

Aw, Sal feels bad

Sal?

Honey, are alright?

He's dying???

He's not immune to irradiation!?

Oh no, he's gone

I'm so sad 😞

Gotta pick up Sam Jr. Before I control Max

They mad Max do a magical girl pose

Ugh the narrator is back

Wait, what?

He's Max's brain??? SUPEREGO???

WHAT

"I was always ignored" Yo if my super ego was as pretentious as you I 'd ignore it too 😤

He wants to kill himself and Max???

I know Max had a self loathing complex but holy shit

The super ego is perfectly fine with destroying half the east coast what a jerk

Just noticed Sam's tie is red. Had no idea about this while drawing PI!Sam lol

We have to help Max get his memories back to use the ASTRO projector

Skunkapes has three Sam clones imprisoned

Sam had canon ocd?

Gasp Gordon???

No, it's Sammun Mak

I love him, little child tyrant

Just make him a mobile brain in a jar and let Sam and Max adopt him

Why is Grandpa here?

He isn't talking like Stinky

Too polite

Sam sees it too

He's a space gorilla

They switched brains?

Found the cloning g chamber

Let's go to Momma's first

CONE OF SHAME CONE OF SHAME CONE OF SHAME

Superball is "wracked with guilt"

"Keep it together Superball. Sam will be able to save the day. He always does."

Ok, let's go to the cloning facility

I'm still thinking about poor Sal yo

FLIIIIIINT!

He's punching space apes!

Girl Stinky really playing up the evil Mistress role

The doggleganger has a bomb on him!!!

Wait so Girl really is a mermaid??? I thought that was just her aestetic

God I love Flint

Haha we tricked Skunkape with scooby doo villain tactics

Got the robot

Her water broke... and it was pennies

Max wants to save Sybil! 😭🥺💕

Super Ego is here

Oh now he wants to save Max

The only thing here are those records

Super Ego waved goodbye

Cthulu Max is cute when he cries

Wait What?

His head is on fire!

The maimtron hit him!

He waved goodbye... and teleported away.

He exploaded!!!!

He promised he'd take Sam with him and he didn't!!!!

AAAAAAH

I thought the dead Max thing was popular angst fanon fic thingy!

We're cloning Max?

It didn't work 😭😭😭😭😭

Superball ran off crying

Oh God the credits are just Sam walking sadly what the hell

He's not even stopping to fight any crime 😢

💔💔💔

God the way he's clinging to himself

What?

The elevator???

MAAAAX

he's back???

Past Max???

He blew his Sam up???

Wait hold on I'm glad they're together again but this doesn't fix anything

There's so much trauma from this season

All the horrible things that happened during 301-304 happened in like 3 days tops, then Sam had to deal with Max being a monster for a week before watching him die!

And the new (?) Max had BLOW HIS SAM UP!!!

And they left the franchise like that for a decade????

What the hell?

I want to be happy but this shit is going to consume my brain for the next week at least what the hell

Aaaaaaah!

Like maybe they really do just brush it off but it feels unlikely

I know Max has a connection with his other selves so it'll be easier for him to adjust but certainly Sam is going to notice the discrepancies since he doesn't get the same deal

Someone told me there were multiple endings hold on

Aw, they walked off into the sunrise together

But still

AAAAAAAAH

[mrs-hatake]

Hello! Can I request hc for Zoro, Law, and Ace realizing they are in love with their female best friend and how they’d confess

Zoro

• oh boy, where do i start with this one? homeboy is clueless AF about his own emotions.

• let’s face it, zoro isn’t like all the other men. he isn’t into romance and he isn’t the type to get jealous at all.

• hes also the kind of man that knows that you can depend and rely on yourself so he doesn’t really see himself as your provider or savior.

• which is perhaps that’s how you caught his attention. your fighting skills, your bravery and quick thinking on your feet was very admirable. he starts to notice you more.

• it starts simple and innocent. him asking you to work out with him. then, hed help you train by engaging in close kombat mock fights. sanji is livid by this because “DON’T HARM THE PRETTY GIRL, YOU GREEN COLORED APE!” but zoro pays him no mind.

• after your many training and workouts, one day finds you resting your head on zoro’s chest while taking a nap on deck. usopp and chopper were chuckling at how oblivious zoro was because he didn’t want to move you and risk waking you up, you’ve been working too hard.

• these kind of interactions go on for a very long time and neither of you discuss your emotions to each other but, one night, after celebrating the defeat of some navy fleet that tried to arrest you, you and zoro found yourselves heavily making out.

• the day after that found you in zoro’s bed, naked and in his arms.

• “so, does this mean we’re a couple now?”

• zoro shrugged.

• “gues we are.” you replied through a yawn and fell back asleep cuddled up to zoro.

Law

• law offhandedly noticed that you had attractive features but didn’t think too much of it.

• it wasn’t until later when he started to get to know you and have a good idea of what kind of person you truly were did law notice a shift.

• he realized that he was crushing on you, hard, though he stomped on those feelings. he was still traumatized after what had happened with corazon. law didn’t allow for himself to be vulnerable like that ever again.

• it was hard. it was hard to spend every single day with you and pretend that he didn’t love you. to carry on with your days as captain and subordinate.

• he wasn’t the type of person who would lose sleep or appetite over the matter but he does obsessively think about it whenever his mind wasn’t focusing on something crucial.

• it wasn’t until after his fight with donflamingo and law had witnessed your tear stained cheeks as you watched his ripped arm get reattached did he finally succumb to his emotions.

• it was a dramatic and slightly cliched confession of love. his dry hand cupping your cheek as his thumb wiped away your tears.

• “i’m sorry.” hed apologize in a soft and hoarse tone of voice.

• he was met with a passionate kiss on the lips.

Ace

• ACE IS A HOPELESS ROMANTIC YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND.

• seriously though, it’s love at first sight for this boy.

• he takes advantage of this opportunity to get closer to you and he’s so annoying????

• cheesy pick up lines, bad puns and dad jokes galore.

• hes always trying to impress you whether with his abs, fighting skills or his award winning smile.

• but ace has a soft side. he’s a sensitive man and he didn’t open up to you as easily as he thought he would.

• it took time to get through the thick walls that hid a bundle of insecurities and self loath.

• he was ashamed to feel this way, ashamed that you knew he felt this way.

• but, he allowed himself to heal. not because of you, but because of himself. you were there for support and comfort and he appreciated it immensely.

• ace would probably give you a promise ring or a locket with a picture of the both of you smiling before he sets off to find blackbeard.

• he writes to you whenever he has the chance. his letters, though full of grammar and spelling mistakes, were filled with love.

• he’d write about his brief adventure with luffy and his crew, how proud he was of his little brother.

• how much he misses you and can’t wait to be in your company again.

• he ends the letter with something cheesy that has you playfully rolling your eyes.

• it was sweet, it was pure but it was never lasting.

[mythgirlimagines]

DVHS Reread: Chapter III.I

I don't care about missing this investigation. It's not like there'll magically be an exit. There'll be nothing that can bring her- all of them- back.

I don’t think it’s often that protags miss an area investigation, but I definitely think it’s warranted for Camila this chapter.

Of course; both parental friends sent me notes. 

I’ve come more recently to refer to Sasaki and Yasu more as older-sibling friends than parental friends haha

Abe freezes a step after passing, looking back with a critical eye. I step more inside, hoping that if he saw me, he doesn't say anything. I'm still mad at him, mad that he was right and that I'm hurting so much, though that's more Maeda's fault than anyone else's. 

This part really hits me a lot, since Abe and Camila have a really on-off friendship/allyship throughout this. One of them always ends up pulling away from the other, but I do think post-canon or nondespair they would be good normal friends.

On the complete other hand, I can barely draw a hand turkey. 

One of those details I should really write down before I inevitably contradict myself. I actually probably have already.

I rub my temples, trying to make my oncoming headache subside. "Unless you have a reason for being here, I suggest you get out."

His tone quickly turns mocking. "Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you follow the rules."

I freeze, trying to figure out what I did wrong. Nothing comes to mind. "What rule did I break?"

"Like ya don't know! Area investigations are-"

"-not in the rules," I finish for him, crossing my arms. Wish I could punt him into his stupid camera. "Look for yourself."

One of the only moments Monokuma gets to shine with Camila lol

MONOKUMA THEATRE X 

This is brought to you by what I learned in AP Psych that week

I just keep walking until I find myself in the gym, staring at the podium and waiting for Monokuma to show his toy store reject face. 

And here we see one of my favorite Monokuma insults.

"You know what? No. Fuck you." Yoshida's anger could match my own, but the difference is that she acts on it. She storms the stage and grabs Monokuma with her good hand. "I'm done with you and your motives."

Monokuma's sick smile grows at her words. All of a sudden, a high-pitched beeping fills the air, growing faster and faster with each second. It's Abe's voice that rings out: "Throw him! Now!"

Yoshida pulling a Mondo and me subtly saying that Abe might know what would happen to Monokuma. I technically didn’t need a scene like this, but I did want it, just as a throwback. It also marks the first time the f word is fully said in DVHS.

"Just know that there's no food for anyone until the next death." He puts an emphasis on anyone as though that's the most important part. 

AKA a throwback to the wording of one of the V3 motives with the “forced into the killing game” part, except opposite. Even Mr. Mastermind will be forced into the motive.

Unfortunately, he opens his door before I can make the decision to leave. His voice is tougher than it was when he tried talking to me this morning. "Ishikawa. Is there a reason you're here? Did you realize that I was-"

"Right. You were." There's no look of triumph at my hollow words as I suspected there would be.

It feels a bit mean for this to be a FTE, but then...

His eyes seem to look right through me. "I see. But you don't fully believe that, do you? You wouldn't be you if you did." I don't know what I believe anymore. I don't respond, and he hesitates before continuing. "Look. Let me tell you a little about my sisters. They took care of me for a long time after my parents died. One is more optimistic, an idealist. The other is a realist like me. They're my grounding forces; the right blend of their thoughts is perfect. So-" here he hesitates again- "maybe by blending our thoughts, we'll be able to overcome any despair Monokuma throws at us. What do you say?"

...The foreshadowing about his sisters/backstory for the FTE content.

"Synesthesia? Basically I can see colors and shapes when I hear certain notes or sounds- that kind is called chromesthesia. I also associate letters and words with colors- that's grapheme-color synesthesia."

I’ve found synesthesia incredibly interesting since reading the book A Mango-Shaped Space as a kid, and learning more about it in AP Psych helped me out with it!

As I expect, he's the only one in here, peering into one of the lockers. "What are you looking for?" I ask, trying to look over his shoulder. I don't think we checked all of the lockers individually, did we?

"Nothing." He shuts it and puts the wooden key back in its place. There really must be nothing in there, otherwise he would've taken the key for himself. He shoves his hands into his pants pockets, looking at the wall before talking again. "Tell me what you remember."

Can’t say I remember what I was going for but I think maaaaaaaybe he was looking to see if the laptop with Alter Ego was there? idk

That's...sweet? I guess. "I promise, just us two." I even make the motion to cross my heart to show him I'm serious. He doesn't smile, not even when I offer my pinkie. "C'mon, you know it's legit if I pinkie swear."

He rolls his eyes a bit, stares at me, but eventually clasps my pinkie with his. It's done.

That moment between Kyoko and Makoto in the anime is solidified in my brain.