#I’m new in this so maybe some things in the ‘comic’ will look a little weird or something

[3rdvoice]

New letter column

--- Question about visual design... I believe that making stuff that’s fun and exciting to you, the author, is hugely important to staying engaged in a project. That said, there are times when the direction that most benefits the work isn’t the one that you’re most interested in. 1. How do you approach finding that balance self indulgent design/writing/whatever (things that you find personally appealing or enjoyable to draw) and design that’s less "fun" but serves a purpose. 2. When are "sacrifices"-- exchanging fun for variety or cohesion or flow-- worth it? How much do you think about "fun" when designing? --- Question about "secrets"... The story may not really be *about* the world’s secrets, but given your considerable, cross-platform efforts to avoid spoilers, them nonetheless seems important to what you’re trying to accomplish. 1. How important do you think "secrets" are to this kind of story. Would it be the same if you had a lore blog where you answered everyone’s burning questions? 2. How do you cultivate the self-discipline to avoid blabbing about your ideas. Maybe you don’t struggle with this, but I definitely do. C * September 9, 2024

I’m struggling a little with this framing around self-indulgence! I maybe don’t think of it in a parallel way to you. The whole thing is kind of self-indulgent to me… like cohesion, everything feeling of a piece and moving forward to build a big structure, this is self-indulgent, this is my aesthetic, basically. In terms of vis dev at least, I definitely HAVE built my approach around things I like to draw. I made this setting with room to mess around in ways I can’t predict… A lot of “staying engaged” for me, I have discovered after some thousands of pages of comics, is about planning in ways that don’t lock me in too tightly, and allowing the whole process to have some room for exploration throughout.

The avoiding revealing setting-details thing is firstly just a big central philosophical principle I have about this stuff, which maybe isn’t as widely-held as it used to be. Any story is about sequential information revelation… I am designing the story in every moment to reveal information in a particular order, and I don’t want to undercut the integrity and cohesion of the story by revealing things elsewhere out-of-order. This feels like a basic principle people making stories have kind of always had to abide by! You can’t rely on a reader knowing stuff about your story that’s outside of the text in question (I am interested in how habits of writers and readers seem to be shifting around this lately however). So it’s not ABOUT the secrets maybe, or calling them “secrets” puts too fine a point on it, but I am intentional with how things are laid out!

This info-revelation thing is maybe a little complicated by the literary device of the “INVENTED SETTING” that figures so loudly in my comics. The way we do invented settings lately depends on a shared illusion of an objective PLACE, with its own existence outside of the story. The TRICK, as a writer, is I think to see this illusion itself as something that serves the story. The thing LOOKS bigger than the story in order to lend gravity and evocativeness to the story, but it ISN’T bigger than the story. Or if it IS bigger, it’s only bigger in my own personal notes and inside my own personal brain, so in no way that is relevant to readers. I know that I have broken the rules and done word-of-god stuff sometimes in the past because the “real beyond the story” thing is compelling to me too! But I aim for this. The “self-discipline” question I don’t really have an answer for; it is always kind of a struggle but I’m interested in making comics because that is how I want to reveal the stuff, so that is how I reveal the stuff!

If I were to do a lore-blog it would be me on-the-spot making up answers to questions based on the broad setting-principles I’ve established for myself. It would probably be useful for me as a writing exercise, but I’d lock myself into all sorts of decisions I would later regret, or I’d agonize over how seriously to take material “canonized” in the lore blog. It would extend the space of the story beyond the bounds I’ve so far established, and make it flimsy and untenable!

Picking up on some of this thinking in an answer to another letter, will post in a few days.

lettercol archive

rice-boy.com

[starkwlkr]

Omfg I need like early on in the relationship between Hugh and marvel!reader where their relationship isn’t public and their papparazzi of them on set together coz they’re visiting eachother and everyone’s thinking xmen X mcu when in reality it’s just them together dating

no spoilers! | hugh jackman

an: ok since their first son was born in 2000 (it’s canon idk what date but it’s canon now lol) and the mcu started in 2008 I’m going to change a few things JUST TINY THINGS like the mcu being in development early on and marvel actress!reader being casted in the early 2000s. does that make sense?? idk this is fanfiction

2005

Getting a call from Marvel was something you never expected. Like many people, you grew up reading the comics and watching the tv shows. But now you had the chance of a lifetime. You were being offered a role in the first movie in the Marvel cinematic universe.

After having a meeting with the marvel executives and your manager, you were asked to keep the news of your casting a secret. The media was already wondering who was going to portray what heroes on the big screen and your name was being thrown around.

While your relationship was still a secret, you often visited Hugh on set of X-Men with Alex and Reese. You tried to keep your little family from the media as much a possible. You would watch Hugh get into his costume and do his stunts. You were always amazed at how much fun it would be to portray a superhero and now you were finally going to be able to.

A few months after you met with Marvel, you found out you were pregnant with your third baby. A girl. Thankfully you weren’t set to film yet since the film was still in development. When it was finally time to film ‘Iron Man’, you were more than ready. Your kids were a bit older so they finally got to watch you beat up bad guys like their dad did.

It was during the filming of ‘Iron Man 2’ when your secret was finally revealed to the world. You didn’t really know how it even happened . . . Your guess was that paparazzi somehow snuck in. Hugh was always careful when visiting you on set. Rumors were already circulating on the internet about a potential X-Men and Avengers team up. It didn’t help that Hugh was sporting his signature Wolverine hair when he visited the set. At least the kids weren’t with you.

“You look much better than me,” Hugh looked at your costume. He couldn’t stop staring, it was starting to make you weak in the knees. “at least you get comfortable suits. Remember the black suits from X-Men? The most uncomfortable shit ever.”

“The kids thought you looked cool.” You reminded him.

“Okay, that makes me feel better.”

As you and Hugh talked, some paparazzi were secretly taking photos. All they could think about was how well they were going to get paid for the exclusive photos. The X-Men joining the mcu? That was big news!

When the photos were published on every magazine, you couldn’t help but laugh. What a way to reveal your relationship. You definitely didn’t want to share the news this way, but you also didn’t want to lose your job.

“Maybe in a few years it’ll come true. You, me, X-Men and the Avengers.” He told you, giving you your morning coffee. The kids were still sleeping so you and Hugh took advantage of the quiet morning. You set the magazine down on the table and drank the coffee.

“It would be nice. Imagine what the kids will think. Mom and dad beating up the bad guys together,” you smiled at him. He took the opportunity to give you a kiss. As he pulled away, you whispered to him. “or it could be me kicking the wolverine’s ass.”

You and Hugh’s characters wouldn’t share the screen until 2024 when Deadpool & Wolverine premiered. Your kids were more than excited to see their parents fighting together.

@kellyxo1 @barnes70stark @ru-kru @flyestvenustrap @evasmlp

[gomu-fer]

one piece men react to you screaming their full name

ft. Ace, Zoro, Sanji

SFW, mentions of alcohol and smoking, gn reader

Masterlist

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

Ace

“PORTGAS D. ACE” your voice resonates through all the walls, rooms and every nook and cranny from the Moby Dick. The mentioned stood frozen at the dinner table fork still full of food, he knew better than to run away

“What did you do now?” Marco asked eyes wide open

“Nothing!… that I remember” Ace scratched the back of his head trying to make memory of his recent activities, searching for whatever may had upset you

Marco laughed in disbelief “You’re a dead man” he said before taking another sip of his drink

You entered the room, stomping your way to your clueless boyfriend “May I have a word with you?” The tone and the politeness of the sentence made Marco fear for his dear friend. Ace nodded before he stood up and followed behind smile beaming in hopes you’ll have some mercy. A chorus of teasing ‘UUUUH’s were heard as you exited the dining room.

“Have I told you how radiant you look today?” Ace leaned over to kiss your cheek but you ducked making him loose his balance

“Don’t start with me Portgas” a shiver ran down Ace’s back, both from fear and… something else.

“You did this” you held a pillow cover in front of his face “You burned my only bed sheets, and you’re getting me new ones even if you end up in debt with everyone on this ship”

Ace was attracted to you all the time, but there was something in the way you would always stand your ground and how gorgeous you looked right now that was knocking him out of his feet. He placed his hand in the one were you held the pillow cover and pulled you in for a hug

“Im sorry sweetheart I’d get you new ones on the next island, you can borrow mine for now” you rolled your eyes and sighed, he got you wrapped all around his finger and he knew it, you couldn’t be mad at him for long

“Of course I’m taking yours, you sleep at my bed every night anyways… but wash them first” Ace picked you up and pampered your face with kisses “You look so hot when you’re angry

Zoro

“RORONOA ZORO” you screamed while exiting to the deck where he was working out, all of the straw hats looked back at Zoro in fear, Sanji holding in a laugh

Few things made this man flinch but he couldn’t help but catch himself lose balance when he heard his full name exit your lips in such an angry tone followed by your big stumps getting louder as you got closer

Everyone wrapped up whatever they were doing and ran off to the kitchen, leaving Zoro to face his demise alone

“What now?” He played it off trying to sound as nonchalant as he could not even looking your direction

“How many times have I asked you to not leave your sake around my desk?” If looks could kill your boyfriend would be a dead man

“Where am I supposed to put it then?” He scoffed crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked at you for a second and his heart clenched at the cute way your brows furrowed and your arms rested on your hips

“Oh! I don’t know maybe, just getting silly here, IN THE PANTRY WHERE IT BELONGS!” Zoros condecency was driving you insane making your tone scale

The swordsman noticed how you were getting tense and teardrops threaten to run down your cheeks, he sighed a little embarrassed he had made you this upset. He cupped your cheeks while he apologized in that soft tone he reserved just for you

“I’m sorry I forgot to put it away last night, it won’t happen again I promise” he drew comforting circles around your cheek as he whispered

“It got all over my notebooks” oh so that’s why you were so shaken up

“I’ll clean it up baby” your boyfriend kissed your forehead as he made his way to the kitchen for a towel, as he opened the door every crew member fell comically on top of each other, they were ears dropping as they do.

Before Zoro could complain, your sweet laugh was heard at the distance which made him smile a little “You should listen to her mosshead” Sanji muttered which made the swordsman’s smile drop and scream back at him

Sanji

“BLACK LEG SANJI” even though you were screaming at him, the cook couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the way you wouldn’t use his birth last name as you knew he despised it and what it stand for, instead raging while using his public name.

You stormed in the kitchen eyes fixed on him, even angry Sanji thought you were breathtaking

“Yes my world?” he beamed a smile at you which you didn’t know if it annoyed or charmed you

“What have I said about smoking indoors?” Sanji felt the air get stuck in his throat, his eyes drifted from yours in shame

“I uhm-“ he laughed nervously as you got closer and closer cornering him against the counter, both hands caging him while they rested on said counter

“You know damn well I hate when my clothes smell like cigarettes, now imagine how I feel when my whole room stinks” you grabbed Sanjis tie to move his face closer to yours without breaking eye contact, you knew exactly what to do to make him a nervous wreck

The blondes heart couldn’t help but skip several beats at the way you were acting right now, he felt bad about upsetting you but he could get used to this side of you

“My apologies love, you know I cant manage to go without a smoke and sometimes I don’t want to leave your side” he twitched when his gaze met yours as he tried to explain himself

“Well you better start to manage” with a torturous slow move you took the cigarette that hanged from your boyfriends lips and threw it on the floor before stepping on it to take it out “Or I’ll move out of the room” you smiled teasingly while exploring his handsome features, stopping at his lips.

The cook turned all shades of red and pink breathing heavily, squirming a “Yes ma’m” before you kissed him passionately and breaking it abruptly

You winked at him before leaving the poor poor man absolutely stunted and a hot mess

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

Hi! This is my first time doing this type of format so tell me what you think and feel free to request. English is not my first language so correct me if I made any mistakes.

[flowerfan2]

Steve has asked to see Eddie in the hospital four times over the past week, and each time Wayne says no.  He’s not mean about it, more like perplexed, and increasingly annoyed.

When Steve tries to sneak in when Wayne’s not there, a nurse kicks him out, kindly at first, and then with a threat to call security.  He’s not family, and Wayne hasn’t left permission for him to be there.

Steve doesn’t think anyone’s being intentionally cruel, he’s just a teenager who happened to meet Eddie a week ago, he doesn’t have any right to see him.  But he did carry him out of hell, and he would really like to see how he’s doing.

Steve’s got injuries of his own, and his head hasn’t stopped throbbing in days, and he hasn’t been sleeping much.  But he still wants to see Eddie.  Needs to see him.  Because sometime in that handful of moments fighting monsters together, he thinks he fell in love.

This seems crazy, he knows that.  People don’t fall in love so quickly, not normal people.  The fact that Eddie is a guy makes it all a little out of left field, he knows that too.  But Steve’s miles past exhausted, and sore with aching, and somehow the thing his brain has latched on to, that will make things just a little bit better, is if he can see Eddie and make sure he’s okay.

Because he’s pretty sure that Eddie feels the same.  He can’t be positive – it was only a handful of moments, a few meaningful looks and a phrase or two that he could well have misunderstood.  But he doesn’t think so.  And he needs Eddie to know he’s still with him, he’s thinking about him, he’s here for him.

Steve takes a new approach with Wayne, showing up every day at the same time and quickly saying it’s okay if Eddie isn’t ready for visitors, please just let him know I came and give him this.  This ranges from a brightly colored get well card, to a comic book, to a tape player and a tape of one of Eddie’s favorite bands.  It takes the pressure off of Wayne to keep saying no, and hopefully at the same time lets Wayne – and Eddie -- know he’s not going anywhere.

Two weeks after Steve dragged Eddie out of the Upside Down, he arrives at Eddie’s hospital door with a worn copy of The Hobbit.  He hands it to Wayne and says his piece, but as he turns to leave, Wayne calls out for him to wait.  

“This is one of Eddie’s favorites,” Wayne says slowly.  “But I don’t think he’s up for reading yet.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry-” Steve says, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.  

“Maybe you could read it to him?”

Steve freezes, his heart pounding in his chest.

Wayne hands Steve the book and claps him on the shoulder.  “I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

A few minutes later, Steve is curled up on the bed with Eddie, pretending to read to him while Eddie dozes in his arms.  Turns out he wasn’t the only one falling in love while fighting monsters.

[loveinhawkins]

Robin’s always had a soft spot for Eddie Munson, but up until recently it had been in a distant kind of way; she appreciated his class clown act, the way it had a domino effect of keeping the heat off the band kids, how he hogged the spotlight for any passing douchebag’s attention.

But then they both literally dive into The Upside Down, and her appreciation reaches a whole new level.

They’re in the Wheeler’s garage, thanking their lucky stars that four bikes exist in 1983 (and yeah, Robin’s sure that if she thinks about the whole time thing for half a second more her brain will promptly melt, so she doesn’t).

Each of them are pushing their chosen bike down the driveway, in a dazed sort of silence—the high of the Lite-Brite worn off in the face of another grim journey through The Upside Down.

Steve is flagging, Robin can hear it: his breathing’s growing laboured as he walks, an occasional unsteadiness to him that’s setting her anxiety off all over again, because what if they were wrong, what if it’s really rabies, and it’s too late, it’s coursing through his veins, and he’s—they’re gonna lose him—

“Hey, Harrington,” Eddie says, swinging a leg over his saddle, “wanna race?”

“… Hmm? Sorry, what?” Steve says.

There’s not even that long of a delay in him speaking, but the pause still has Robin’s heart in her throat.

Eddie’s got one foot on a pedal now, ready to set off. He looks back at them with a shaky grin—like he’s terrified, but he’s still gonna have some fun anyway.

“I’m throwing down the gauntlet, King Steve. Bet I’ll be faster than you.”

Steve scoffs, stands up a little straighter before he mirrors Eddie, balancing on the bike with one foot on the pedal.

“How much are we betting?”

Eddie huffs. “Oh, no money involved,” he says nonchalantly. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “This is just for the glory.”

And God, there’s that spark back in Steve’s eyes; it’s like Robin can physically see his competitive streak giving him strength.

Eddie Munson, you beautiful soul, she thinks, I could kiss you.

“Faster than me? Yeah, maybe in your dreams, Munson,” Steve says.

But Eddie’s already speeding off with a comical whoop; Steve curses as he hurriedly tries to catch up, yelling, “You dick, that’s cheating!”

“Not in my rulebook!” Eddie says with a cackle.

And for a little while, that’s enough to put Robin’s mind at ease: watching the pair of them taunt each other like kids—hearing Nancy laugh at the spectacle as she bikes alongside her.

But then she falls through the Gate, Eddie close behind her, and they freeze when Steve screams Nancy’s name with such fear.

Robin’s plunged back into a mind-numbing panic; she’s sure that her heart doesn’t even begin to slow until they’ve left the trailer park, until Steve’s control of the RV switches from ‘holy shit, we’re on the run, what have our lives become?’ to something more normal—the reliable, measured driving she’s familiar with, taking her to and from school or work.

Finally, she has time to, um… take stock. Of… things.

She wobbles her way over to Eddie, grabbing onto his elbow as Steve takes a turning.

Eddie instantly holds her up, a steadying hand around her waist. “Oh, hi. I’ve gotcha—” “Your music isn’t actually shit,” Robin says in one breath. “I know, um, on balance, it’s probably not the worst thing I could’ve said, but the delivery was—but, you know, considering I thought Nance was literally about to die, I’d say it was, like, kinda calm all things considered, but—”

Eddie’s chuckling. “Yeah, on balance,” he echoes teasingly, “you were pretty damn funny, actually. Uh, sorry for. Um. Screaming at you? Basically?”

“Basically,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, you were like impressively loud. Not quite eardrum-rupturing level, but y’know, I don’t actually know anyone who’s really had that happen to them; Amanda Wallis said she ruptured hers at the pep rally ‘cause she was standing too close to us—the band, I mean, but—”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, that’s bull, there’s no way that’d be loud enough to—”

“—I think she just had a grudge ‘cause David C on mellophone got literally the tiniest bit of spit on her, and he was only—”

“Yeah, well, everyone knows you sit in the splash zone at your own risk.”

“Exactly! She’s had plenty of time to learn marching band protocol.”

“Uh-huh, protocol,” Eddie echoes again, with a giggle.

He’s got a nice kind of laugh, Robin thinks: one where she’s never in doubt that he’s laughing with her rather than at her.

“That stuff you do’s pretty cool,” he says; with his free hand, he actually imitates her mime of playing a trumpet. “You must have good, uh…” She can see the exact moment that he’s having second thoughts about saying it, but he forges ahead anyway, with a hilariously uncertain, “Good… lungs?”

“Fascinating attempt at a compliment,” Robin says. “Luckily for you, I accept insults as, like, equal tokens of friendship.”

Eddie does a double take. He doesn’t go so far as letting out a questioning, “We’re friends?”, but he might as well have said it anyway: his eyes widen for a moment, like someone who’s just been unexpectedly asked out to prom.

Steve takes another turning; he does it smoothly enough, but even he can’t stop the RV from moving with it, and Robin stumbles again, very nearly ends up repeating how she toppled right onto Eddie in The Upside Down.

“Woah there, you’re good,” Eddie says, “just gotta find your, uh, what’s it called? Your equilibrium.”

“I don’t have any,” Robin says, all theatrical devastation, and Eddie snorts.

“Sure you do, Buckley. Look, just take my—yeah, that’s it, then just kinda straighten up… yeah, you’ve got it.”

And yes, after a minute or so, Robin’s footing does feel more certain, but she still keeps a stubborn grip on Eddie’s elbow, just in case.

“God, d’you know what I’m gonna do when all this is over?” Eddie says.

“Pray tell.”

“I’m gonna make a list. What was it you said, Madonna, Blondie…? Whatever, I’m getting all of them, m’never getting caught out like that again.”

“I’m hoping that needing music to evade the clutches of a serial killer from an alternate dimension is, um, strictly a one-time thing.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie says. “Still buying those tapes. Just in case.”

And yeah, it’s said partly in jest, but Robin can hear that he means it. Still, it’s the most optimistic that she’s heard him be so far: making plans for after, like he can really see a way through this. Like maybe he finally knows that they’ll help him get there.

“Need a list of tapes from you too, Buckley. You and Harrington.”

Robin smiles. Her first thought is of singing Total Eclipse of the Heart from the dirt-ridden floor of a mall bathroom, but then she thinks of every car ride with Steve, every time they’ve turned up the radio to belt along, and she knows that there are way too many songs to count.

“Forget a list,” Robin says, “I could fill a book. Same for big boy over there.”

Eddie blinks, like he’s suddenly taking stock, too. “Oh yeah,” he says, laughing lightly, “I did say that, huh?”

“Sure did. I was doubting my ears, too.”

Robin had been hoping they’d long since reached the point of being able to joke around with one another. But while Eddie does laugh again, he also starts biting at his thumbnail, glancing over at Steve in the driver’s seat.

“Um, hey.” Robin manages to keep her balance, briefly pressing her knee against his leg. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Eddie.”

“No, I know.” Eddie huffs self-effacingly. “I’ve kinda got permanent foot-in-mouth disease, my report cards would tell you that.”

Well, if he wants to pass it off as sometimes I just say the darnedest things, Robin would be a hypocrite to deny him.

It fascinates her in a sad sort of way though, how he veers between joking and nervousness—like he’s worried he’s intruding on their group, of overstepping somehow.

She wants to tell him: Look, we all got dragged into this, but we chose to stick around, and you’re no different.

But she no longer has the aftermath of Russian drugs to help bypass her own nerves, to kickstart her sincerity.

“Hey, you’re awfully quiet back there,” Steve calls, and Eddie startles.

Robin shakes her head. “Not us, that’s his—”

“Hello? Henderson, I’m talking to you.”

“We’re not even doing anything!” Dustin shouts back in exaggerated affront.

He’s sat on the backseat of the RV, peering out the window along with Lucas, Erica and Max. Robin stifles a chuckle at the sight; they look like they’re on a field trip—the cool kids at the back of the bus.

“Yeah, well, just checking,” Steve says, amused. “For all I know, you coulda been building a gigantic radio again on, like, the roof of this thing.”

“Cerebro,” Dustin says, just as Eddie lets out a baffled, “Uh, again?”

But then they’re pulling into The War Zone’s parking lot, and any chatter abruptly dies.

Afterwards, Steve gets off the road to park in a reassuringly deserted field. They don’t head outside right away (Robin’s not exactly looking forward to prepping Molotov cocktails), instead staying in the RV to eat junk food they’d grabbed beforehand.

Robin discovers that Dustin’s somehow bought five more cans of Pringles and snorts, declaring, “You’ve got a problem.”

At some point, Steve tries to sneak off to the bathroom so he can change his dressings—“And use actual proper bandages!” Robin calls to him; no offence to Nancy’s resourcefulness, but the torn shirt strips only do so much good.

It becomes a more comical than horrifying event, although she’s sure that’s down to Steve deliberately making it so, like a sleight of hand trick: playing it down as he keeps talking to the kids throughout, never wincing even once.

He ends up having to keep the bathroom door open to continue an argument with Erica over which Scoops Ahoy sundae was the best of all time—then figures that he might as well just step out into the open anyway.

At least the wounds have stopped bleeding—although the sight of Steve cleaning around them with bottled water is one that Robin could personally do without.

The kids are entirely unfazed. They flock to Steve, peering at the glimpses he lets them see like he’s just got a cool tattoo. Robin supposes that after El and whatever nightmare wormy thing was in her leg, they’ve seen everything.

Eddie, however, is another matter. He keeps quiet about it, not obvious at all, but Robin watches his face grow paler and paler before Steve wraps the new bandages around his stomach.

Dustin, bless his precocious little heart, must also notice, because he quickly starts up a seemingly impromptu game of charades, meaning that Eddie is soon distracted by his ridiculously over the top gestures.

“No, Steve, how are you not getting this?”

“I thought the whole appeal of this game was that you’re not meant to talk, Henderson. Dude, watch it, you nearly took Max’s eye out with… whatever the hell that was.”

“Oh my god, it’s Back to the Future, obviously! Ow, Max, I didn’t mean to—uh, yeah, the mime needs to be that big, how else am I gonna project what—”

“Dustin, I swear to god, I’m about to project you out the window,” Steve drawls.

Eddie laughs, hides it behind his hand.

But Steve must catch it, because he glances over at Eddie and winks before he’s dragged back into guessing another movie title.

And Robin’s obviously seen Steve wink before—he does it all the time, so much so that she’s become quite adept at reading when it’s a friendly one for her, or if he’s sharing some kind of in-joke with one of the kids.

She’s also seen his attempts at a ‘smooth’ wink towards some girls at work—and look, he’s Steve Harrington, it’s not like he’s going to be bad at it.

But if you ask Robin, it’s never looked quite right, like he’s always performing to an audience he’s unsure of.

But this wink doesn’t look like it belongs to either of those categories. Well, it’s got something in common with the first: that it looks entirely natural, as if he’s doing it almost without thinking. Like it just feels right.

They go through some more rounds of charades—Dustin’s gestures, if possible, getting even more dramatic—and Eddie gradually goes from contributing a few guesses to none at all, curling up on the backseat. He looks utterly wiped out.

Robin tries to catch Nancy’s eye, and after a few attempts, she gets the message, stands up with a nod.

“Okay, let’s take this outside, guys.”

“Spoken like a true camp counsellor,” Max says.

Nancy acts like she’s offended, but her lips keep twitching into a smile. “Max, never say that to me again.”

“There’s more space outside,” Erica says, “so we can duck out the way of Dustin’s windmilling arms.”

“Hey!”

“I’m bored of charades,” Lucas says. “We could do another competition? Like, I dunno, cartwheels or handstands or something?”

“Oh sure, so I can show you up?” Max returns, grinning.

Steve scoffs. “Uh, if you’re doing a cartwheel competition, I would win.”

“Since when?” Dustin says, an obvious taunt that Steve predictably rises to, flipping him off.

“Save your athletics for Vecna, please,” Nancy cuts in dryly.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” Lucas gestures to Steve’s stomach, a little uncertainly. “You know, considering…”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Under normal circumstances, I would kick all your asses.”

“Sure,” Robin says brightly, “but Steve, if you do literally anything more strenuous than sitting down right now, I’m gonna—”

“Uh, Steve would kick your asses, actually,” Eddie says slowly. His voice is muffled from the way his hand’s holding up his chin, partly covering his mouth. “He did gymnastics.”

Robin, surprised, looks to Steve; he’s doing that thing where he scratches at his cheek unconsciously, seems to be a mixture of embarrassed and pleased.

“How’d you know that?” he asks.

Eddie shrugs. “We didn’t have a cover for gym one time, remember? There was a whole group of us slacking off but you just kept doing, y’know,” he twirls his fingers, “tricks on that box thingy.”

“Vaulting box,” Steve corrects like he can’t stop himself. He’s sporting an almost abashed little smile that Robin’s never seen before.

Eddie shrugs again. “S’all Greek to me,” he says, interrupts himself halfway through with a deep yawn.

Steve’s eyes soften. And then he’s ushering the kids outside, “C’mon, you can do whatever competition you want for thirty minutes before we get to work.”

“Got it, coach.”

“Shut up, Mayfield.”

“I’ll be your stopwatch if you’re doing handstands,” Nancy chips in, bringing up the rear—she catches Robin’s eye again, subtly tilts her head in Eddie’s direction and mouths Stay?

Robin nods.

“Uh, that won’t be accurate at all,” comes Dustin’s rebuttal—he’s outside now, but his voice still carries. “Unless you can like accurately keep time in your head down to the second—”

“Oh my god, Dustin, you’re such a shithead.”

“Nancy Wheeler, I’m heartbroken.”

Steve’s chuckle floats through the open door. “She said it, dude, not me.”

“You say it all the goddamn time!”

And then the voices fade away until all Robin can hear is distant laughs and joyful screams. It’s relaxing, in its own way.

“No gymnastics for you, Buckley?” Eddie says.

“Nope, not since 7th grade. Managed two cartwheels before I broke my wrist.”

Eddie winces in sympathy. He’s slumping a bit more; Robin makes herself comfy in the opposite corner of the backseat, gives him the most space.

She feels a weird lump at her back, behind one of the cushions. A quick investigation reveals an issue of TV Guide Magazine.

“Ooh, we can find out what we missed while on the run,” she says, waggling it in front of Eddie.

He smiles with a small huff. “Doubt it. Says 1981 on the front.”

“What’s a little more time travel?”

Robin flicks through to the crossword. She’s all too aware that Eddie’s still sat more stiffly than anything else. With Steve, it would be so easy; she could prod him in the thigh with her toe, light touches until he took the hint and relaxed.

But even before they’d really become friends, they were tactile: a tap on the shoulder to grab attention, bumping hips to move each other out of the way whenever they were scooping ice-cream at the same time. It’d been done so unconsciously, like they were already learning to read each other’s minds.

With Eddie, it’s clear that a different approach is needed.

Robin had caught onto that after her misstep at the boathouse, a pit in her stomach at the sight of Eddie’s hands shaking.

But her instinct to reach out, to soothe, made her unthinkingly try again; as they walked in the woods, she’d heard his breathing quicken, and her hand lightly brushed his back. She drew back as he instantly flinched at her touch.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly. “Just—just checking you were okay. Sorry.”

Eddie just stared at her before nodding hesitantly.

And Robin wanted to tell him that it wasn’t by chance, that he had people who cared about him; that she did, and it wasn’t a fluke or an accident—she was choosing it.

She keeps her eyes on the magazine, jots down a few crossword answers. It reminds her of summer days spent reading on her grandparents’ porch, not wanting to startle a cat her grandpa had rescued as it approached her. It was always so spooked.

“You’ve just gotta let him come to you, sweet pea,” her grandma would say.

After a couple minutes, she hears Eddie breathe out, the creak of the seat as he lies down. He rests his head right next to her thigh.

“S’good?” he asks, pointing at the magazine.

“It’s pretty easy.” One of the crossword clues is ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the?’ which isn’t exactly taxing. “I’m used to doing the cryptic ones.”

Eddie laughs. He kinda sounds fond. “Of course you are.”

“They’re not that hard, once you know how to read ‘em.”

“Hmm, I doubt that. Lay one on me, Buckley.”

She purses her lips in thought. “Oh, I got this one last week. Condition of Wyoming, five letters.”

Eddie lifts his head ever so slightly to give her a blank look. “Not a fucking clue.”

“State. Get it? ‘Cause ‘condition’ is the definition, and Wyoming is literally—”

“God, I’m surrounded by geniuses.”

“Well, I’ve got the advantage of a summer of code-breaking.”

Robin slowly raises her hand as she speaks—makes sure to do it in Eddie’s line of vision, spots that he doesn’t pull back, that he even gives the tiniest half-nod. She pats his head twice.

Eddie scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, my hair’s gross.”

“It’s not that bad,” Robin says honestly. “Y’know for being on the run, it’s holding up pretty well. I’m getting whatever shampoo you use.”

Eddie smiles. “Sure.”

“Yours is looking way better than mine did after, like, one day getting wrapped up in all this.” Again, without really thinking, Robin adds, “I had all this sweat and blood and puke in it.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed now. He makes an unhappy sound, prods gently at her knee. “You’ve all gotta work on telling me horrific shit. That should not be casual for you, Buckley.”

He sounds emphatic—protective, even. Robin feels unexpectedly emotional.

“Yeah, sorry. Bad habit.”

Silence falls, and by the time Steve enters the RV, Robin has filled in the whole crossword, Eddie dozing by her side.

Steve’s getting another bottle of water—actually drinking it this time. He’s got grass stains on his knees, and he’s sweating slightly, like the ‘stay still’ advice hasn’t once been taken.

His eyes soften again when he sees Eddie sleeping—he doesn’t need to linger, but he does.

Robin watches.

We need more time, Steve, she thinks suddenly. For you to keep looking at him like that—for him to be awake to see it.

Steve tears his eyes away. Lands on her.

She smiles, mouthing What?

Steve rolls his eyes. He imitates her ‘what?’ mockingly, but then he smiles back and taps at his wrist, mimes winding a watch on. It’s what they do whenever they’re slammed at work, wanting to talk, but only able to briefly catch each other’s eyes in the rush. Later.

She taps her wrist. Later, she promises.

He gives her a double thumbs up—what a dork—before heading back outside.

Robin quietly puts the magazine away. Ever so carefully, she lightly strokes Eddie’s hair, feels her heart swell and break at the same time when he sighs contentedly in his sleep.

You’d better look after yourself, Eddie Munson, she thinks. You’ve got people here. People who really want you to stick around.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain. 

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful. 

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go." 

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly. 

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.” 

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly. 

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above. 

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination. 

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!" 

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood." 

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor. 

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in." 

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?" 

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel." 

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight. 

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago. 

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer. 

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week. 

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit. 

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind. 

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person. 

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago. 

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought. 

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted. 

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!" 

"Mhm." 

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh." 

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands. 

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?” 

“Yes, for food. They want options.” 

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?” 

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.” 

…

He loves it when you ride him. 

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices. 

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?" 

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open. 

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim. 

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand. 

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom. 

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know. 

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets. 

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally. 

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight. 

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag. 

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?" 

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?” 

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk. 

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day. 

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?” 

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.” 

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.” 

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!” 

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!” 

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you." 

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella. 

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat. 

But he was never just some guy to you. 

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement. 

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years? 

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be. 

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?” 

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.” 

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?" 

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove. 

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.  

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling. 

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce. 

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips. 

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval. 

"Is it good?" 

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time. 

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin. 

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. 

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse. 

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain. 

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention. 

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts. 

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind. 

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck. 

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in." 

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while." 

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt. 

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls. 

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time. 

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him. 

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much. 

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.” 

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.” 

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure. 

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you. 

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened. 

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed. 

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously. 

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.” 

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.” 

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate. 

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again. 

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers. 

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt. 

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white. 

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller. 

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?” 

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!” 

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there? 

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must. 

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits. 

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck. 

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine. 

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs. 

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes. 

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.” 

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.” 

“What? How am I supposed to do that?” 

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold. 

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway. 

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you. 

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal.  He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?” 

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?” 

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.” 

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything. 

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.” 

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes. 

“I’m not.” 

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.” 

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.” 

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.” 

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm. 

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined. 

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his. 

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him. 

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips. 

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate. 

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.” 

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.  

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole. 

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman. 

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly. 

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed. 

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste. 

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel. 

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Is shattering permanent in the comic (especially with the force fusions and cluster) or can it be fixed down the line like future did? Asking for your opinion on this too bc I found out about it in Future and it makes me feel weird (bc now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension, so haven’t been able to read or write stories). Maybe I’m seeing this wrong? Would love your thoughts

Hmm...

So to answer your first question: The comic for WDAU works on the same rules as canon does. I have no intention to over-write anything canon clearly stated to be true.

The ability to put back together shattered gems is definitely a part of that.

So yes, theoretically, even in WDAU, gems being shattered is not 'the end' because they can be eventually re-instated through the work of the diamonds, IF they someday decide to Change Their Minds like they did in the original series.

That being said...

I want to talk a little bit about something you said, because it tickles my brain in an interesting way:

"now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension"

And the best way to talk about stuff, I've found, is to ask questions about our underlying assumptions. So my questions for you (all) today are:

For us humans, death certainly IS a constant that remains ever-permanent, and thus it's easy to compare it to shattering and draw that parallel... but is that a fair comparison?

In fiction, death is often circumvented and there still remains reasonable tension in things like magic-heavy worlds, vampire novels, sci-fi where almost any sickness is eradicated, etc. Is this not quite similar to what shattering is for gems?

Is the perceived permanency of shattering the only reason it feels like a heavy consequence?

Are there OTHER consequences of being shattered that make it just as interesting, if not more than, to be explored as a plot device?

Must there be an ever-looming threat of something horrible and permanent happening to make a story good?

There isn't a right or wrong answer to these questions, necessarily. I'm not posing these in order to lead you to a singular, 'absolutely correct' conclusion or way of writing.

For some stories, death DOES need to be permanent in order not to make light of what the characters go through! In some forms of writing, there IS no other way around that consequence.

But I daresay SU is not one of those stories.

Let me put it this way - 100 years ago, medicine had only BEGUN to develop into the thing we know it as today. Sure, there were therapies and treatments for diseases, broken limbs, poisonings, etc. Some of them were quite good, even! But overall, the death tolls back then from basic illness were MUCH higher than they were today.

Pnumonia, Malaria, Syphillis, Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, AIDS.

These were things that people died from, with near CERTAINTY, for the LONGEST time. They were considered the road to a permanent black screen.

And today? Even though they are still, without proper intervention, JUST as deadly, we now have new tools and vaccines to combat them. Hell, if you get vaccinated fast enough you can get bit by a rabid dog and live to tell the tale, unscathed! Rabies used to be a one-stop-shop to the afterlife.

Despite this, we still view these diseases with appropriate fear. They are still dangerous - in the right conditions.

In the right conditions, the consequences for a LOT of things can be permanent. If permanency is what you're looking for.

So alright, the Diamonds can heal shattered gems now. Booooring. How easy it is to fix any shattered gem! What a simple solution to anything tragic.

But................... will they ALWAYS do so?

In fact...will the Diamonds ALWAYS be around?

Will the gems who got shattered always be picked up, piece by piece, and be brought back to them, perfectly preserved? Or will they lose pieces of themselves along the way - literally?

And what NEW consequences can we think of, when we stop thinking of the permanency of death, and start thinking of the Impermanence of those tools that keep us here longer and longer?

Just food for thought. 👀

[kujousgf]

WUNDAGORE. 18+. mdni.

pairing: villain!wanda maximoff + avenger!reader

summary: wanda gets rid of that pesky memory block of yours

warnings: angst, emotional and mental manipulation, mentions of murder, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and confused, one (1) mommy, allusion to smut at the end

wc: 1.6k~

a/n: кошечка (koshechka) = kitty

The wind that blows past is frigid and the rocks underneath your hands are sharp-edged and cold as you stare up at the Scarlet Witch or whatever the hell Wanda was calling herself these days from your place on the ground. You’re tempted to try and kick her feet out from under her where she’s standing above you, catch her off guard and send her tumbling down the cliff, but you don’t. You just glare up at her, knowing that even if you managed to catch her off guard, she would never fall that easily. She would rise up like the most beautiful archdemon you’ve ever seen and deal whatever damage you’d dealt to her tenfold. To anyone who might be watching, lurking in the shadows but not daring to interrupt either of you, the look in your eyes is one of pure hatred, disgust in its purest form that mirrors the look in Wanda’s eyes. But you both know it’s not true, that the hatred disguises something much worse. Something you’d never admit even in the emptiest of places, something Wanda would only ever admit in your dreams. Something that would destroy you both if you’re not careful. 

“You’re disgusting.” You spit, icy and cold. “Destroying those universes like it’s nothing, like they’re nothing.” You finally get your bearings back, standing up and clenching your fists at your side, trying your best not to just hit her, punch her, shove her down, anything. “All for what? So you can get back a man who tried to kill you?” Jealousy. “A man who wanted to destroy the universe and start over to create the perfect humanity? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think maybe the two of you really are meant for each other.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Wanda hisses, and you think she might push you down again, but instead she pulls you closer to her by your collar. You can feel her warm breath against your skin and you have to repress a shiver. “You think that you know everything about everyone, don’t you? You think I’m doing this for that man? You think any of this is for him?” She laughs like you’ve just said the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” It’s almost comical to her that you really think that, that you’re so god damn blind that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. She knows why you can’t see it, of course, but she hadn’t always realized how susceptible you were. You can’t see that she’s been trying to find another universe, any other universe where you don’t hate her anymore, where she didn’t fuck everything up and the Avengers didn’t take you away from her. 

She knows she should stop talking, she knows she should shut her mouth before she makes things worse, but she can’t stop herself. She knows how to play the role of the villain to a T now, and if the only way she gets to be close to you again is to make you cry then so be it. “You think you’re better than me because you kill people in the name of the Avengers instead of your own?” She laughs, her grip on your shirt tightening. “I have some news for you, little hero, you’re certainly no better than I am. What is it that keeps you there, anyway? You know you don’t belong there.” It’s a low blow, but she knows how true it is even if you no longer do, “Is it the Russian? Do you stay so you can see the look of approval in her eyes whenever you kill someone for her?” Jealousy. “But you’d do it even if she didn’t ask. I’d say you and I are rather the same, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!” The smirk that curls on her lips makes you nauseous and you push her away from you. You know that she let you, loosened her grip on your shirt so you could feel like you’re even half as strong as she is, but you don’t care. “I think that I know everything? What about you! Acting like you know anything about me besides what my blood looks like on your hands.” Your hands are shaking both because of the look Wanda gives you and because you’re upset that she would ever bring up Natasha. Upset at the possibility that this encounter would taint your relationship with the Russian redhead, that Wanda’s words would burn at the back of your mind like acid. Because it’s not true, what she said is not true. You don’t like killing those people, you don’t like seeing their blood on your hands or seeing the light drain from their eyes. You don’t like it. You don’t. 

Wanda doesn’t have to look into your mind to know what you’re thinking, it’s written all over your face. She knows she hit a sore spot with that comment. “I don’t know anything about you?” She tilts her head, taking a step towards you as you take one away from her. “You always talk,” another step forward, “like you know,” and another, “what you’re saying” and then another, you try to take another step backward, but your back hits the jagged wall of the cave, “but you don’t, do you?” Wanda hadn’t been this close to you since she had nearly torn your heart out of your chest and it was making you dizzy. Had she always smelled this familiar and good? You’re very purposefully avoiding eye contact, not wanting to see the satisfaction in her eyes at having cornered you. Suddenly you feel Wanda’s hand gripping your face and forcing you to look at her, “No, you don’t. I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Wanda’s eyes glow red for just a minute and you feel like there’s a fog in your brain being lifted before your memories crash down on you like a tidal wave. Wanda’s eyes go back to their regular green color and her hand moves to cup your cheek, her darkened fingertips tapping against your skin. She gives you a second, knows this is going to be a lot for you. She did just unlock over 5 years of forcefully forgotten memories after all. She wasn’t going to do this, it will result in everything the Avengers have at their disposal being thrown at her for taking away their leverage over her, but they shouldn’t have let you come alone and she was growing rather tired of hearing you hurl insults at her and seeing the way you beamed up at Natasha whenever she caught the two of you together. This was poor planning on the Avengers’ part, that’s all. 

Suddenly you feel nauseous, every memory you’ve ever had with Wanda hitting you with full force. You feel like you’ve just gotten a metal bat to the gut and then again to your head. You don’t know what to think. Was this real? Did Wanda plant those in your head? No, that didn’t seem right. This would certainly explain the way certain Avengers acted around you and the way you felt when Wanda was near. You were explaining that away as anxiety, nervousness over being so close to someone to dangerous and vile. You lean into the warmth of Wanda’s touch before you can even think about stopping yourself. She can see the way your mind is racing, how your pupils are blown as you try to piece everything together. Eventually, you look up at her with those doe eyes you used to use on her and she almost tears up. “Wanda?” There you are. 

“Hi, кошечка. You must be so confused, huh? I know it’s a lot, but I promise things will be better now.” Your head spins at her words and her tone, that tone… everything is too much and not enough all at once. Too much information, but at the same time not enough. Why didn’t you remember any of that before? Why were you ever trying to hurt Wanda? Why was she hurting you back? Was she hurting you back? Why had she been doing all of those horrible things? Your Wanda would never do those things. Except, well, this was your Wanda, so surely that makes it excusable, right? But if she was your Wanda, why weren’t you with her? Wanda taps against your cheek to catch your attention again, noticing how unfocused your eyes are as you spiral in your own mind. “Those Avengers were so mean to take you away from me like they did, trying to turn you against me.” 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would they do that? I thought they were supposed to be nice, why would they take me from you? Why would… why?” You’re slowly putting the pieces together while trying to cope with the fact that for the past two years you’ve been treating your… your Wanda like an enemy. Your tough exterior is cracking and crumbling as each second goes by, no longer being kept back by the mental barrier you didn’t even know was there. “Oh, my sweet girl, because they’re not nice. They’ve been keeping you like a caged animal, using you like a weapon and tricking you into trusting them.” Wanda’s voice soothes you if only slightly, but the thought of being used like that has you so angry and overwhelmed with all the emotions clashing in your head that you can’t help but let out a quiet whimper, tears forming in your eyes. Wanda coos, bringing you closer and holding you against her chest. She strokes your hair, humming softly before she speaks again, “It’s okay, mommy’s got you. I’ll make it all better, don’t worry.”

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: After roughly taking your virginity, Joel keeps his promise in showing you new things.]

“You have any idea how many times I’ve fought myself to pull out?”

Part 3

Smut

It had been a few weeks now since you so unexpectedly lost your virginity to Joel. The two of you found yourselves having sex any chance you could and anywhere you could. Joel ached to feel himself in you at least once a day as you yearned for him. Ellie knew something was up as she would catch Joel staring at you when you weren’t paying attention like he was in that very moment. Through the window he could see you planting more in the garden you made, he could tell you really enjoyed growing vegetables.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Ellie chuckled sitting beside Joel.

“Huh?” Joel looked over at her with a raised brow.

“You keep staring at her, why don’t you say something, don’t just watch her like a creep” Ellie pulled out a comic book and began flipping the pages. Joel held back a smile, if only she knew just how aquatinted the two of you already were with one another.

“You know what Ellie, I think I will do that” Ellie shrugged just as you walked inside feeling like you had just walked into the middle of something.

“What are you guys doing?” You asked awkwardly as Ellie stood up.

“Well I was gonna go take a walk around the cabin, maybe sit up on a tree and read” she made her way behind you quickly turning back to Joel giving him a wink. He couldn’t help but look down and smirk as Ellie walked out slamming the door shut.

“Don’t go too far!” You yelled out to her.

“Did you say something to her about us?” You asked curiously.

“Of course not” he chuckled as he stood up.

“So what was that all about?”

“Ellie caught me staring you, says im kinda obvious that I have a thing for you” he smirked pulling you against his body.

“You were staring at me?” You smiled looking up at him.

“Little bit” he leaned in and took your lips with his passionately. You moaned feeling him close before quickly pushing yourself back.

“She can come back any minute, Joel”

“I think she wanted to give us some time..” he raised his brows with excitement before conintuing to kiss you feeling him push you towards his bed.

“Are you sure?” You whispered in between kisses, he unbuttoned your pants pushing them off you.

“I wanna show you somethin’” he began to swirl his tongue beneath your earlobe making you moan.

“That feel good?” He whispered.

“Mhm” you nodded. Slowly he pulled back looking down at you, his hands on your hips he guided you to sit down on the bed.

“Lay back” you did as he asked and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt throwing it to the side leaving him in a sleeveless white undershirt. Your hips slightly squirmed at the sight of his bare arms, you could already feel yourself aroused.

Joel leaned over you with his hands by your head, your legs eager to pull him in you.

“Not yet darlin’” he whispered in a way that made you shiver.

“Why not?” You asked with a slight look of desperation making him chuckle. Without responding he bought himself down to his knees at the edge of the bed and unexpectedly pulled your legs toward him.

“What are you doing?” You asked confused as you noticed he placed his face between your legs. His dark eyes met yours as you felt the warmth of his breath against your inner thigh.

“I’m gonna make you cum, baby” and just like that you felt his tongue slide down your slit making you gasp. Parting your lips with his tongue he began to slowly tease your clit. Joel was waiting for the perfect time to taste you not wanting to be rushed. Your legs sitting on his shoulders, his hands squeezing your thighs as he watched you feel his tongue devour you. You’ve had women tell you how good this can feel if a man knew what he was doing and you could definitely say Joel knew exactly what he was doing. Flicking his tongue, you moaned unexpectedly reaching down driving your fingers through his curls with the urge to somehow pull him closer to you.

“Oh yes…” closing your eyes you felt him begin to suck on your clit. He moaned watching you lost in pleasure, his moan making you feel a vibration that only intensified the sensation on your clit. Not taking his eyes off you he reached his hand up beneath your shirt, grabbing your breast in the palm of his hand before teasing your nipple. Joel was a man that loved to provide the pleasure to a woman, watching you cum could get him off alone.

“Just like that” you moaned as his other hand found your other breast now teasing that nipple. The triple sensation only making you squirm uncontrollably, your hips jerking towards his face wanting more. He knew you were about to cum with how you grabbed onto him, that always seemed to give it away, holding onto him for dear life. Flicking his tongue and fingers on your nipples faster he waited for what he knew was seconds away. Arching your back you moaned in release practically squeezing his head with your thighs until your body relaxed.

Out of breath you lay flat for a moment until you felt Joel pull you up to your feet. Quickly he picked you up sitting you on a desk as you grabbed onto him still in a daze.

“That was…”you whispered looking up at him noticing his beard filled with your cum as he placed himself between your legs.

“Oh-you have-“ your finger went on to touch his face but he quickly interrupted you with the sudden feel of him sliding in you.

“Shit-“ he spoke hoarsely feeling how wet you were. Joel wasted no time moving in a rythm that quickly built up the tingly sensation in the pit of your stomach…only this time it was different. It felt a little stronger than you had ever felt before, each stroke bring it closer. He moved faster not breaking eye contact as you felt something intense take over.

“Oh my god, Joel-“ his breathing was loud and heavy as he continued thrusting his hips when you got the sudden urge to push him away, you screamed.

“St-stop-“ you cried out as he pulled out when you uncontrollably squirted on him taking him by surprise. He watched in awe as your body convulsed, your legs shaking as you squirted once more. Joel catching your legs from slipping off the desk as you held onto the table.

“J-Joel” your voice trembled still feeling the waves run through your body, you had never felt anything like it.

“I’m sorry” you panted confused and slightly embarrassed with what had just happened making him quickly look up at you. Pulling your body towards him he slid himself back in and grabbed your face with his two hands making you look at him.

“Don’t be,” Whatever had just happened, you could see it turned him on even more. He continued like he had never stopped. His eyes focused on you while he moved vigorously as you whimpered feeling it begin to build up all over again. Almost feeling like you couldn’t handle it, it was all happening so fast.

You never thought anything else could feel better than when he made you cum but this…this took over every nerve in your body in a way you never expected.

“Oh god-it’s gonna happen again” you cried out as Joel pulled out once more and felt you squirt on him. His hands entangled in your hair, he leaned his forehead on yours as you held onto him.

”That’s it baby, that’s how I want you.” He whispered but you could barely speak. Kissing your shoulder and your neck, your arms wrapped around him as he buried himself in you once more. He moaned in your ear in a way you hadn’t heard before, Joel knew he was about to cum but feeling you pulsating around him he lost complete control. His body moving too fast for you to keep up, you moaned digging your nails into his back when he suddenly stopped and grunted harshly.

“Fuck-“ he choked out. You gasped feeling his heart pounding against your chest, his hips jerking once more as his body slumped against yours.

“Joel?” You whispered confused as he panted still hiding his face against your neck. His release taking so much out of him he held still. Slowly he lifted his face up noticing you puzzled expression, yet he didn’t say a word. Instead he kissed you passionately… his cock still throbbing inside you.

“You alright?” He whispered knowing how new this was for you, he didn’t mean for this to happen like this. You nodded as he leaned his lips on your cheek, slowly he slipped out of you and turned away grabbing a towel. Silently you got on your feet looking down at the mess that was made, before you had even finished cleaning yourself up Joel walked out slamming the door shut.

“Joel?!” You called out for him quickly dressing yourself, luckily as soon as you ran out he hadn’t gone far.

“You’re doing this again?!” You yelled out to him making him turn to you.

“First you take my virginity and walk off like an asshole and now you-“ you found yourself struggling to say the words out loud.

“You..you came in me and that’s it? You walk away again with nothing to say?”

“I lost control, shouldn’t have happened” he responded bluntly without looking at you directly.

“So that’s it, you lost control. Joel, what if I get pregnant? ” his eyes quickly found yours with

your straightforward question. You began to sarcastically laugh as he remained silent.

“Is this what you do? Go around and screw women risking getting them pregnant and acting like nothing-“

“No” he cut you off calmly.

“Or did you think I was too stupid to not know what could happen if you did that? Which one is it-“

“No” he flared his nostrils trying to calm himself.

“Oh no, maybe it was-“ he suddenly grabbed you pushing you against the wall.

“You have any idea how many times Ive fought myself to pull out? How many times I just wanted to keep you close?” His words and aggressiveness catching you off guard.

“Do you have any idea-“ he cut himself off realizing a part of him selfishly did it only thinking about what he was starting to feel for you. A part of him realizing this wasn’t just sex.

“I’m sorry” he whispered with a hint of guilt in his eyes, his hands on your waist gently squeezing you. He knew this was all new to you and confusing and the last thing he wanted to do was complicate anything.

“I don’t wanna lose you” he suddenly blurt out. Joel had never felt this way about a woman so fast, he swore he never would again but something in him took over…something he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried.

“Joel..”you whispered gently placing your hand on his face when Ellie appeared clearing her throat, yet this time he didn’t pull away, he didn’t even look away from you.

“Shit..Ellie saw-“

“So what. Let her see” his response surprising you.

“I’m not hiding this anymore, not from her..not from myself. You hear me?” You nodded silently, Joel left you speechless as Ellie quietly walked by and into the cabin. Looking behind you at Ellie, Joel turned your face back to him and kissed you, you could feel his eagerness, you could feel how he felt for you. Excitement rushed through you yet with hesitation and Joel sensed it but he promised himself he would be more open with you with ease.

“Hey” he whispered tilting your face up.

“I won’t do that again” you looked at him pressing your lips together….secretly wanting him to do so again.

[taegimood]

hi mj!!

okay hear me out soobin and kai.. tag team.

like i know they would most likely never share anything like this but maybe the reader is the only exception in this case. ofc they share they’re favorite games and dramas but sharing kais gf is there new favorite activity?

hope you are doing well :))

-🖇️

nonnie this has me VIBRATING rn you have no idea i’m 👁️👄👁️ ughhhh sookai sandwich EFFF

edit: sorry for the accidental soob focus in the beginning, i got carried away i’m too mf obsessed w him 🤧

──────────────────────

soobin really didn’t mean to walk into kai’s bedroom without knocking, he just didn’t know that you were over… didn’t know that he’d find you getting split in half on his best friend’s cock, your body full nude and beautiful and all on display as he stands clenching the doorknob until his knuckles are white, frozen, eyes so wide that it’s comical. as if his cock wasn’t already getting hard enough in his sweatpants, the fact that the fucked out look on your face doesn’t change when you see him standing there — pools of need filling your gaze, in fact — well, hell; he sure as fuck is hard now.

soobin.exe has stopped working COMPLETELY, however, when he hears his own name fall from your lips in a soft whimper, and his eyes finally shoot to kai’s when the younger pants out, “hyung.. it’s okay, you can come in.” soobin doesn’t even process himself closing the door as he steps forward, doesn’t process how he approaches the bed, doesn’t process how he’s already gripping the hem of his shirt — “a-are you sure?” he whispers to kai, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as he watches his friend drill into it. he even has to stop the drool from trickling past his lips.

“please,” you moan out lewdly, breaking soobin’s momentary trance as his eyes flash back up to your face, your head thrown back as you watch him through pleading, lidded eyes. kai only chuckles and responds, “i’m sure. she’s been wanting this. you should see the way she looks at you, hyung.. isn’t that right, baby? want us both to share your pretty little pussy? hmm?”

soobin’s mouth hangs open at kai’s filthy words; what the fuck happened to his sweet innocent maknae???? but the guttural moan that erupts from your lips in response travels straight down to his twitching cock, and that’s all the confirmation that he needs as his clothes quickly find a home on the floor of his best friend’s bedroom and, in a daze, he’s quickly knelt on the bed beside you.

so thus starts the arrangement; kai kept true to his words, and now here you are being regularly shared between both men.

and you fucking love it.

soobin and kai aren’t new to the concept of sharing; they share video games, snacks, their passwords to anime sites, even some secret hentai links, all their usual favorite things; and now, their newest favorite thing to share is you, apparently.

it’s not uncommon anymore to be spending a night in with your boyfriend and have soobin come join; leaning back against kai’s chest while he tweaks your nipples as soobin languidly eats your pussy. or to be sandwiched between them in the shower, kai’s cock thrusting into you from behind as you hold onto soobin’s shoulder for support with one hand, the other jerking him off as your tongues tangle together. or when they’re busy playing video games and have you take turns cockwarming them — warm mouth wrapped around whoever isn’t buried inside you. later they reward you for being such a good girl when they’ve got you spitroasted on their cocks, your big strong men giving it to you so good, filling both your pretty holes on each end until your eyes are rolling back and your body is shaking. and who knows….

maybe they’ll reward you even better next time by filling all three.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @66sharkteeth

66 is a comic artist and the creator of City of Blank, a WEBTOON original series. They worked in the game industry at companies such as 2K Games before entering the field of comics. They began their career in comics at Tapas, where they worked as an editor and lead typesetter, before being signed to create their own original series on WEBTOON.

Check out our interview with 66 below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

The short answer is yeah, I’ve definitely had one. Overall, I feel like doing a lot of style studies during that time and trying to use new brushes helps a lot. In addition, because I’m a comic artist, I feel like writer’s block is in the same field, and with that, I’m really fortunate that I have an editor that I can work with, who helps me a lot there. Whenever I am stuck at a plot point in my comic, I can always go to my editor, who helps me hammer things out.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Animation. Of course, everyone loves animation. I went to school for game art and design and even did some animation courses, and I am just not cut out for it. I don’t enjoy the process, and I am not good at it. Animation is beautiful, and I admire people who can do it. I’d love for my work to be animated some day, I’m just not capable of being the one to do it haha.

Warm tones or cool tones?

It really depends on the scene! Especially in my comic, I really go with both of them, just depending on the moment in the comic. There was a major character death, and that scene was almost black and white. But normally, the comic is very vibrant, and people really like it, so when I switch it to a more cold tone, it makes the scene that much more impactful.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

Honestly, my current comic, City of Blank, takes up 100% of my time. But recently, I did a plushie campaign where I worked with Makeship through Webtoon to design the plushies and do a little bit of marketing for them. So that’s fun and different from what I normally do!

When planning a comic or a story, what do you do first, character design or character outline?

Normally, I have a design, and I fall in love with the character design, and then I find a role for them. That’s how a lot of my characters have started. Also, that’s how I’ve been tackling new projects that I want to work on after City of Blank. I just came up with a character, and I’m trying to make a story around them.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Meeting readers and realizing how much my work means to some of them. Some of them have started their own comics, having been inspired by mine. Learning that I’m part of the reason they started their own comic journey, the same way I looked to other inspiring comic artists to start mine—it means the world that I’m in that position now.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Let’s see…bright, sparkly colors! I think just trying to make sure that the booth is eye-catching. I ended up making a big shiny banner for New York Comic Con, and I know many people stopped by because it caught their eye and they’re curious about what it is. I know a lot of people are selling merchandise of popular media. Even just a banner of your brand to get them curious about who you are and maybe interested in seeing what you make and taking a business card so they can look you up later. It’s better than someone just buying a pin and forgetting you exist. Lastly, put out a tip jar. You never know just how generous your fans are feeling.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I’m mostly involved in the webtoon sphere! I am definitely inspired by my fellow Webtoon creators, @lark-wren, who created the series Woven. I love their work and seeing them interact with their readers on Tumblr. Same with fellow Webtoon creators, @miranda-mundt-art and @astrobleme-enterprises, who created Lovebot.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, 66! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @66sharkteeth and follow their webcomic, City of Blank, over at WEBTOON.

[theemporium]

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends!

.

You had thought you were perfectly content with love being expressed silently until you met Nico Hischier.

For you, love and silence had always been interchangeable throughout your entire life. You weren’t sure when it clicked, when the realisation had been set in stone in your head and never to be argued with. You just knew that silence usually meant good things, that it meant positive feelings. At least, you liked to assume.

When it came to your parents, the silence meant there was no scolding or nitpicking. They were never shy at the way they pointed out your flaws, your mistakes, your errors. It was hidden under concerns and wishes for you to thrive, but the pressure just felt as suffocating and overbearing as them. The silence was a relief from the constant remarks. 

In school, it was like the teachers and professors just expected you to do well. They saw a bright child, so the second the grades started to matter, the assumption was made that you would just thrive. That pressure returned, and you hated the disappointing and disapproving talks you would get if you did badly. Once again, the silence was a relief, it meant they left you alone and that was what you wanted.

It followed as the same in almost every aspect in your life: in your friendships, in your relationships, in your careers, in your achievements. Silence had become so intertwined with love, success and praise in your life that you knew nothing but. 

Until Nico Hischier. 

Maybe it was the captain in him, or maybe it was just the kind of guy Nico was. It was almost comical to think back upon the early stages of your relationship, when everything was so new and his words left you overwhelmed—but in a good way, in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“You didn’t have to wake up with me,” Nico said as he wandered into the kitchen. 

Unlike you who was still in your pyjamas, he was dressed in some sweatpants and a hoodie—the Devils logo and his number standing out on both. His gym bag was dropped at his feet before he wandered over to where you stood by the stove. 

It was early. Dreadfully early, in fact. And despite every cell in your body screaming for you to stay in your warm, cosy bed when Nico’s alarm blared for his early morning practice, you wanted to do a little something for him for once.

“I wanted to make you a proper breakfast,” you shrugged, letting out a soft sigh as he wound his arms around your waist, his chest pressed into your back as the warmth of him washed over you. “An apple and a protein shake isn’t enough.” 

“It’s worked alright so far,” Nico grumbled, his head dropped to your shoulder as he watched you cook. “But thank you. You’re amazing, schätzi.” 

You snorted. “You mean having a proper breakfast is amazing.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “I mean you are amazing. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

And maybe there was still a part of you that wasn’t used to Nico’s constant praise and affection. You could do hugs and kind acts and thoughtful gifts but, fuck, the words really got to you.

It just baffled you how easily the words could pass his lips. It came so naturally to him, so fucking easily that it made you question how you went your whole life having people struggle to even give you basic appreciation but this boy seemed to be able to praise you for something as simple as making him a meal. But it went beyond that.

 Nico did it with everything. 

You look gorgeous, baby, that dress was made for you.

Fuck, schätzi, doing so good f’me. Just like that.

I’m so proud of you.

You’re doing the best you can, baby, you’re so strong.

He wasn’t shy about his appreciation for you. He showed his love in so many different ways that made him the absolute perfect boyfriend, but the words that left his lips were the most consistent and—though you didn’t have the courage to say it yet—your favourite.

“You’re a sap in the mornings,” you commented, because whilst you were used to hearing them, it would still take time to fully accept them and not deflect instantly. 

He knew that. If anything, he thought it was adorable. It prompted him to do it more often just to see how flushed you got, just to see the way you were somehow caught off-guard every single time.

“Maybe you should wake up with me more often,” Nico retorted, swaying your bodies together in the chilly kitchen. “I could use a shower buddy.”

You snorted. “You would never make it to practise on time.”

“That is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Nico shrugged, but you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You’re gonna set a bad influence, captain,” you teased, shaking your head.

Nico let out a low groan. “Don’t start calling me captain, I have to leave in fifteen.”

“Think of it as motivation to do well,” you countered as you plated up your breakfasts and lightly nudged him so he would allow you to place them on the breakfast bar. “I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

Nico shot you a look. “You’re a temptress.”

You grinned back.

“A gorgeous, sexy temptress that I can’t wait to come back home too,” Nico continued, pleased at the way your face flushed in response. 

“Dick,” you grumbled but you happily accepted the kiss he placed on your cheek as he thanked you for the breakfast.

And, much to his delight, you were in bed waiting for him after he had come home from practice, eager to climb in with you.

.

[brooklynisher]

Hey all, you ever hear of Jaunty?

[x]

Do you WANT to learn more about Jaunty?

Well I dug deep, and found some things I never thought I could find. I'm really excited to share what I've found with y'all. This post is sort of a little journey of how I found Jaunty.

There's a few sections to this.

Skip to But where does Jaunty come from? If you just want answers

Is Jaunty even a real character?

Jaunty, from what I originally found, is SUPPOSEDLY a Steam Powered Giraffe character. But where have we seen this character before? Was it the comic? Was it the timeline? Maybe in a song cover? Does the band ever talk about Jaunty?

And to answer all of your questions, no! At least not that I knew of. The only source of Jaunty’s existence is here.

The Steam Powered Giraffe Wiki

So that makes this whole thing pretty complicated right? The wiki has info, and it’s not too inaccurate most of the time, but some of the lesser known/more nuanced information tends to get scuffed.

It really doesn’t help knowing that David has mentioned before that the information on the wiki wasn't that accurate.

What I’m saying is, the only proof we have for the existence of this character is on what might be one of the more unreliable sources of SPG information.

But despite that, this page is special in the fact that SUPPOSEDLY it was uploaded by Steam Powered Giraffe themselves!

[x]

However, there isn’t really much of any information on this user at all. All we know is that they founded this wiki, added a few characters and a bit of information, and then became inactive. Really our biggest reasoning for believing that this was an actual SPG member is the fact that they are the founder and have been around for a very long time.

Okay, suspicions aside, let’s see what I found about this thing.

What the wiki tells us

One, this image was touched by the founder of this wiki twice, it was uploaded in 2011, and in 2014 they protected the page, which means only the administrators can edit the page.

[x]

Both are pretty major years for SPG being the year Upgrade left the band and the year Rabbit transitioned, but there’s not many connections you can make with that.

This user was first active in 2010 and last seen in 2015 [x]

Cool dates to have, but not a lot to work with. It mainly gives us a clear vision of what SPG was looking like at the time of the creation of this page. I can see this thing being used for a special, slightly themed show.

Of course, the information the wiki alone offers is very limited, but we know two things for sure. One, this character is a robot being under the category of robots, and two, these photos were taken by Cineria.

[x]

So, here's the problem, you'd think that by having the name of the photographer, we could get far with that, but unfortunately, it is such a vague name, that there is just no way we could figure out who Cineria actually is. It really doesn't help that they don't seem to be a professional photographer. The only page I could find that connects both the name Cineria and Steam Powered Giraffe is this one.

Useless information

I started searching for stuff by reverse searching it. It wasn't really successful, as I was expecting, but I did find one thing.

A different source.

This source doesn't go anywhere must you know. The ORIGINAL site, florist.buketbunga.com is still up an active serving as an Indonesian site for selling flowers, but this very specific link is broken, and the Wayback Machine doesn't know a thing about it.

The good news is, the link title alone gives us a ton of stuff to work with! Appropriately, the last part of this link translates to "Flower Bouquet Florist Shop Address Nearest 24 Hours Online", which makes sense.

What DOESN'T make sense is everything else coming before it. Specifically the Team Fortress 2 Wiki. This made me believe that someone used these sites to create a scam link, but it's weird because somehow, it's relevant?

Yandex was able to match these images of Jaunty to this site, and what's crazier, Jaunty is in the title of the link! But it's not just Jaunty, it's the Jaunty Explorer.

I did some searching, and discovered that the Jaunty Explorer originates from a TF2 livestream charity event called Tip of the Hats! Donations can earn you medals known as the Jaunty Explorer ($10 Donations), the Jaunty Ranger ($30 Donations), and the Jaunty Mountaineer ($100 Donations). They can come in many different color variations, but here are the main ones.

[x] [x] [x]

There are TWO connections between this and SPG. One, the shared name of Jaunty, and two, hats. Steam Powered Giraffe is pretty big on hats. But, bad news, these are completely unrelated. Main reasoning? The image of Jaunty was posted to the wiki back in 2011, while Tip of the Hats as an event started back in 2013. Can't even take the "SPG was inspired by TF2" route with that.

Okay, but what even IS it?

Now we get into the visual aspect of this!

I tried to see if there was at least any way to identify what this is, but that solely relies on observational skills. There are two images of this thing, but the image with the blue background is much easier to make out.

[x]

There's a lot that's going on with the design of Jaunty. Unfortunately, I'm not smart enough to identify what half of the doodads are. This machine, whether it's an actual machine or just a prop, is definitely a one of a kind as I couldn't find anything like this.

I talked with @boneinator about this, and he was able to read the text: "STAND CLEAR!" on the top of the doors of this machine which lead him to believe that it might be a time machine of sorts.

What we both managed to agree on when it came to the design of this thing however, was that it looks like a cabinet.

Now, like I said, this thing has a one of a kind design, so it's not going to look exactly like one thing or another, but it has similar features to other things such as to this cabinet

[x]

Two longer doors on the upper half, and two smaller doors/drawers on the bottom. Is that actually what it is? I didn't know, but there is a resemblance.

One thing that's REALLY interesting about this machine is the intense amount of steam it lets out.

[x]

So it's definitely a very active machine.

But where does Jaunty come from?

Something I've been wondering is how much of this is actually connected to SPG.

Is it theirs? Is this a part of a bigger thing? Is it just associated with them?

A bigger thing. There is one example of a big SPG show that comes to mind, and it was not just them.

During their 15 Year Anniversary Livestream, the band was asked about their favorite memories. Bunny mentions that one of her favorite memories was at a show called Clockwork Vaudeville. This was one of the band's first time having a massive audience. According to her, this was a time traveling show, and they performed alongside others.

I looked into it and found that the full name of this performance is called Clockwork Vaudeville Circus Cabaret. And there, I found a little advertisement for it as well!

The Kickstarter for this show started in late 2010

I did some more searching and realized there is a bunch of video from this show out there though all these clips are recorded at random intervals. Assuming that the uploader posted these clips close to the date of the actual show, we can see that this show took place in February of 2011!

About one month after this show, this page was added to the wiki.

I checked the clips, and guess what.

[x]

Right there in the corner, there was Jaunty.

But that's not all

Not only have a found a video that contained Jaunty, I found a video that contained Jaunty in action!

[x]

Unbelievably enough, it was a video of the band performing Honeybee alongside a pole dancer. And thanks to the title, we now know that this show took place February 19, 2011

Which all this confirms 100% that Jaunty IS a time machine.

Now with all things considered, Jaunty is not necessarily an "SPG character" as in they didn't create it. It's hard to say if Jaunty is even a character at all at this point! But it does exist in their world and they actively interact with it!

Who cheered? I cracked the code!

[icejjfishesz]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ❜

chapter no. 001!          

𝗈𝗈𝗈.               ⠀CONTENT : paige “with” another girl (for the plot). reader is so terribly down bad. also, i don’t proofread so if you see typos or grammar mistakes i’m sorry. and this chapter is kinda boring but it's necessary soo.

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀      WORD COUNT : 1.5k

𝗈𝗈𝗈.   ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : yall seemed to like the prologue so i hope yall like this too!!

THEY’RE KISSING. and she’s enjoying it, by the looks of it. you can tell because she’s doing that thing where she pulls the other person closer like they could never be close enough. the thing she used to do to you. 

it’s almost comical that the first time you see paige again, she’s kissing some other girl with eyes like yours outside the diner where you and the girls were. she thinks she’s being sneaky (she’s not). she always thought she was sneaky, you remember that much. in fact, you somehow remember everything about the blonde except what her lips tasted like. so of course you’re a little jealous, feeling a bit out of the loop. that’s normal. right? and maybe definitely it’s stupid to mourn so deeply over a relationship that you ended but, whatever, you can’t help that you miss her.

there was nothing human about the feeling, it was more like a typhoon or a volcanic eruption, something so completely out of your control. it was purely sickening…but whenever you see the peroxide-blonde with someone new, you  find yourself apprehensively scanning their hair, their skin, the words that they would say –– always finding a hint of yourself within them. the delusional part of you wanted that to mean she still wanted you, but logic said that maybe she just started having a type. but then you’d think back to before…the paige before you never had a specific type. but since you? there’s an unmistakable one. but that’s not enough proof that she still feels for you. in fact, it’s nothing. it’s hard not to see yourself when you’re actively looking for it. you’d keep up with the torture by staring at paige kissing that girl through the window but then you feel a sharp kick to your shin from underneath the table. 

“stop staring, perv.” nika mutters, rolling her eyes lightly. although nika was one of the few people who knew about the dead relationship, she didn’t know that your feelings for paige still lingered. she only knew what paige told her, that the two of you were friends.

“i wasn’t ––”

“you were.”

okay –– maybe you were. you sigh silently to yourself, taking a sip of your milkshake. this is the first time you’re actually hanging out with your friends together rather than just one on one (which you only did because you didn’t want to see paige). the two of you agreed to be friends but that was clearly not going to happen. however, you felt bad for denying your friends every time they asked to spend time with you. so, you sucked up your pride. you could spend an hour in paige’s presence, it wouldn’t kill you. at least not literally.

angel, a redhead who shares a dorm with nika and a major with you, is sitting in between azzi and you. she’s eyeing you carefully, after all, the two of you are very close and she knows why you and paige broke up. she also knows that you still care about her. her gaze is simultaneously suffocating and protective.

“...are you okay?” she whispers only loud enough for you to hear. you simply nod, munching on your fries trying not to look out of the window again. in truth, your head was spinning. you haven’t seen paige face to face since the breakup. you were hoping you’d never have to again…

then she finally enters, walking up to the booth. every step she takes is just as confident as they always are. her hair is down, running across the length of her back. her eyes meet yours, they’re more familiar than your own name. her beauty is still unquestionable –– but you wouldn’t admit it. it would make looking away from her even more difficult. so instead you pretend not to look as she sits down at the booth right next to nika…right in front of you. she pokes nika’s side just to piss her off  before snatching a fry from angel’s plate and dipping it in her own milkshake. angel rolls her eyes but says nothing.

“that’s disgusting.” nika turns up her nose as paige bites it. 

“don’t knock it till you try it.” paige dramatically licks her fingers. nika makes a fist, gently hitting the table a few times with her knuckles. you chuckle at nika’s attitude.

“what are you giggling about? you used to like it too.” paige mutters, smiling lightly but her words send a pang to your chest. nobody else seems to catch the bitterness in her tone….but you do. her eyes look almost guilty when she sees the sharp intake of breath you take. but before she could say anything else, you look away. you avoid her eye contact like it’s deadly.

nika clears her throat, eventually sensing the tension, and turns her attention to azzi whose eyes are close and head is rested against the booth. “you okay?”

“mhm…just really tired.” she mutters, opening her eyes to sip her lemonade. 

you chuckle. “i bet you are, we stayed up all last night studying.”

“finals?” angel questions.

“yeah…” azzi mumbles.

“can we please not talk about that right now?” paige groans.

“says you, scholar athlete.” azzi mutters, rolling her eyes at the blonde.

“she’s too busy with that girl to focus on studying these days.” nika chuckles. angel looks over at you for a quick moment but you keep your gaze steady on your plate.

you nearly jump out of your skin trying to relax your tensing shoulders before someone notices. you ended things with her…she couldn’t even call you her girlfriend. so why did it hurt so much to even hear of someone else in your place? this wasn’t exactly the plan, you were meant to move on by now. but seeing her…again…all you can wonder is what she’s thinking about right now.

“who? cleo?” paige snorts. “we’re not talking about that either.”

cleo. cleo. the girl who just had her tongue down paige’s throat no less than ten minutes ago. you feel sick to your stomach at the mention but you hide it well, then you feel sicker when you think about how pathetic it is that you even felt this way to begin with. it’s just another indignity among many.

“why not?” nika mutters. “it’s more interesting than talking about studying.”

“true.” azzi adds.

paige looks over at you, her way of saying that she’s not going to talk about another girl in front of you. “where’s aubrey?” 

you appreciate the conversation shift even if you know it’s in vain. they want to know about this mystery girl and honestly, so do you.

“late.” nika mutters.

“i ordered her food for her.” angel smiles softly. 

“and she’s gonna wanna talk about the girl too.” azzi chuckles. angel’s leg shakes underneath the table, she’s clearly empathetic for you. she knows the girls don’t mean to hurt you but she also knows that it is hurting you. you wanted to relax her, make her feel less guilty for not saying anything even if she wasn’t participating in the conversation.

so you chuckle lightly, pretending to be completely fine and say, “can you please be still?”

“can you please be still?” you sigh softly, braiding her hair in its signature style. paige is sitting in front of you on the bed with her legs crossed. she has a game later, and she asked you to braid her hair for her. 

“you’re pretty.” paige mumbles as you finish up her first braid, still squirming at your touch. 

for a second you almost forget yourself, paige being damn near sickeningly sweet. she seems to notice how her words have temporarily struck you, pride swelling within her since she loves making you happy. 

you shrug it off and remember that her back is facing you, so you chuckle at her commenting on your appearance. “you can’t even see me.”

“i don’t have to. i’m thinking about how your face looks right now.” she turns back to look at you over her shoulder. “pretty.”

you bite back a smile, turning her head back so you can braid the other side. “you’re corny, you know that?”

“i’m enamored.”

“oh, someone learned a new word.” you snort, continuing braiding her hair, being as gentle as you can with her. (though it gets increasingly difficult when she won’t stop moving).

“shut up.” she mutters. “i’m super smart.”

you finish braiding her hair, tapping her side to let her know that you’re done and she can go look. she stands up from the bed, long legs taking her to the dresser which has a mirror over it, she eyes her braids carefully. “they’re a little crooked, babe.”

you roll your eyes. “cause you wouldn’t stop mo––”

she turns back your way, walking back to you. paige towers over you while you sit on the bed, she puts a hand under your chin and kisses you. “i’m joking. they’re perfect. thank you, baby.”

“anything for you…” you whisper back and your words make her smile. it’s wide and toothy –– the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

[thehighladywrites]

THE AIRHEAD CHRONICLES

…AND THE MEETING

-> Pairing: Cassian x bimbo/ditzy reader

-> Summary: Cassian remembers the first time he met you. He truly forgets what a mess you are sometimes, but you’re still his mess.

-> Author’s note: This is going to become a series where I add new headcanons and little drabbles. I love the idea of a bimbo/ditzy reader who’s a real sweetheart but isn’t really the brightest. No worries! As long as Cassian is here, you won’t have to worry about your safety (not that you were before) among other things. Also I’m either gonna make something where Azriel joins them once or I’m gonna make his own series.

part two part three

- Cassian honestly wondered how you were still alive sometimes. You’d do things that made his heart stop and you acted as if it was nothing at all.

- For instance, he’ll never forget the day that he met you.

- Cassian found you walking around in the middle of the night, all by yourself. He looked at you as if you were crazy, clad in a little black dress that was tight around your ass and almost had your tits spilling out. You walked right past him, not even noticing him staring at you.

- You were skipping around in the dangerous parts of velaris seemingly unknown about the dangers lurking around.

- This time of day, drunkards, rapists and robbers were everywhere though that thought simply wasn’t in your head

- No, you were looking up at the stars, admiring the different shades of violet, completely oblivious of the fact that you had caught the eyes of a group of men.

- They quickly made their way over to you when you stopped to pick up a flower in a nearby bush, you couldn’t help yourself, they looked so pretty!! How could you walk past them?

- “ Hey there baby, what is someone as pretty as you doing out here all alone?”

- What a nice man! You give them a sweet smile and explain what you’re doing.

- “ Oh hello! i’m just going for a walk. The sky is so beautiful tonight. I think starfall is near, don’t you?”

- You miss the predatory glint in their eyes, happy to be making some friends, something that happened quite often.

- “ Yeah, sure. How about you come with us and have a drink. We could get you something really delicious.”

- “ Really? I’m quite thirsty, that would be perfect! thank you guys!!” Wow, these guys were nice. One of them even had a hand on your lower back to guide you.

- But, wait- isn’t the bar that way? Maybe there’s another bar behind this alley. It was very dark but you were sure it was around here somewhere.

- Cassian had been following you and decided to intervene. Perhaps you already had a few drinks because no sane woman would willingly walk with these males into a dark pathway.

- “ What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a booming voice echoed through the alleyway.

- “ Mind your own business, Illyrian. We’re just taking out this lady out for some drinks, isn’t that right?” The males all nod and grunt in agreement. But you’re not paying attention to them. You’re looking at the towering man infront of you.

- Your glossed lips part in surprise, eyes growing comically large. You had never seen such a handsome guy before, totally your type!!!

- This guy was like a powerhouse—muscular, with huge battle-scarred wings. Wasn’t there a saying about Illyrian wings? And oh his eyes? Intense and a bit playful. Dressed in Illyrian leathers, he was the epitome of strength and confidence. He radiated authority and dominance.

- “ I think you better get out of here. Now.” He stepped forward as the others subconsciously took a step back. Only the guy that was talking to you remained in his position.

- “Yeah? Or what? You filthy low-born.”

- You were shocked at how quick this male had changed. He wasn’t the sweet guy that wanted drinks. Maybe-

- Before you could finish your thought, the tall Illyrian had punched him clean across his face, making you gasp. Your heels clicked against the cobblestones as you took a step back.

- The guy started got up but he didn’t fight back, he and his friends just ran away, leaving you behind. How rude! You really wanted your drink.

- “ Are you okay? You know, you really shouldn’t be walking around this late, especially alone.”

- How dare he lecture you after scaring away your friends like that?!! You scowled at him, your perfectly glossed lips pouting at the intruder.

- “ I was doing perfectly fine, in fact they were about to buy me refreshments before you so rudely chased them away.”

- He looked at you as if you had told him pigs could fly. With furrowed eyebrows, disbelief showed in his eyes. His frame was towering over you as he took a step closer to you.

- “Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, you do know why they took you here to this empty alley.”

- This male was crazy. You tilted your head, your jewelry jingling as you looked at him with confusion.

- “They were taking me out for drinks and we were looking for a bar. What could you possibly mean?”

- He stared at you for a while, deciding if he should tell you. Maybe you really didn’t know. While he wanted to warn you about following strangers into dark, creepy alleys, he also didn’t want to be the one to burst your bubble. He simply couldn’t shatter your innocent view and it made him surprisingly protective. But why was that? He didn’t even know your name, let alone enough about you to be feeling like this. Yet something in him told him to not let you go.

- “ How about I just take you home, you seem to have had an eventful night.”

- You pondered over it but accepted it nonetheless. Some company would be nice.

- The way back to your apartment was comfortably quiet. As you reached the door, you stopped and turned around. You offered your hand out for him to shake.

- “ That was a really quick walk. Oh, also thanks for walking me home. I’m Y/n by the way.”

- “ No worries, I’m Cassian.”

- He shook your hand and suddenly, everything brightened up. His entire world shifted as that golden thread snapped in place. There was a moment of clear truth, a chance for genuine happiness and authenticity to shine through.

- “ Oh, what a cute name. You should definitely have a nickname. Hmm, let’s see… I really like the sound of Cassie. I think it’s super adorable!” You looked up at him again, doe-eyed and blushy.

- He just stared at you wide-eyed, not able to form a single coherent sentence. Usually people loved talking you but this guy just kept quiet. You fidgeted uncomfortably because you really wanted his attention and if he wasn’t gonna give you some, you’d tease him a little for it.

- “ Um, alright, good night then Cassie. I hope to see you around since you now owe me a drink. Also you’re like really hot.” You pressed a quick kiss on his cheek and turned to open the door.

- Before he could respond you had already closed your door, leaving him behind with a flood of emotions, a beating heart and million questions.

[candycandy00]

The most hilarious thing in the world to me is watching all the right wing morons freaking out over X-Men 97 being “woke” and accidentally revealing that they have in fact never read an X-Men comic book and if they watched the old cartoon at all, it was only in passing and they never paid attention to it.

I’m not even talking about the fact that the X-Men have always met their definition of “woke”, even from the very beginning. No, I’m talking about the utterly baffling number of straight up factual errors I see them spouting. It’s absolutely embarrassing. They present themselves as fans, and are the exact type of guys who would gatekeep comics and assume any random woman in a comic store is a “fake fan”, but they have no clue about some of the most iconic elements from both the comics and the old cartoon!

I watched a video by a guy who had no idea Morph was a character in the old cartoon, and had never even heard of the Age of Apocalypse (one of the most famous X-Men stories in existence). I watched another by a guy freaking out over Storm’s Mohawk, not realizing it’s part of one of her most iconic looks from the 80’s. He showed a picture of her in her first costume from the comics (on a cover of X-Men Classic of all things) that looked way sexier than she was normally drawn when wearing that costume. Then said they “toned down” her look for the original cartoon, not knowing that her cartoon look was an exact replica of her look in the comics when the cartoon was made. They didn’t tone down anything. That was just what she looked like in the comics at the time.

The new cartoon is great. And I say this as a person who was totally obsessed with the old cartoon to the point that it worried my parents. To the point that I (a super calm and well behaved child) threw a massive tantrum when I realized the VCR had failed to record a new episode while I wasn’t home and cried on the couch for hours. To the point that my entire family still, to this day, knows every character’s name (and real name!) without ever watching the show because I talked about it so much.

I’ve never had a problem with “fake fans” of anything, because I figure if you fake something like that, odds are good that you’ll end up genuinely getting into whatever you’re pretending to like. And more fans of something is always a good thing in my book. But when those fake fans are actively trashing something I love just to grift to their narrow minded audiences, using completely false information, it’s ridiculous.

Honestly I wish I could just force these guys to read any storyline from Claremont’s 80’s run. It doesn’t even matter which one. They’re all solid gold. But maybe reading something so freaking great would open their tiny minds just a little bit.