#and no one wants to watch that anime and they’ve already seen this one and and abdbjcjch fuck it all just hurts and I can’t do anything

[soxcietyy]

Uhuh, I got it, maybe everyone being surprised when yuta deals with you being a crybaby

Like maybe you have a reputation for being a cry baby. A scrap your crying a sad movie crying you store ran out of your favorite drink you holding back tears while telling the clerk "no it's ok"

I imagine this being modern au but do as you want 🤣

Alright alright I think I got it🧍‍♀️

Nobody is surprised when you start crying. You were known to be such a sensitive person and nobody blamed you for it. The jujitsu world was harsh but you tend to cry over the smallest things. That being a sad movie, seeing old people eat alone, seeing stay animals on the streets and worst. Your friends where so used to it that sometimes they watched you cry or waited for Yuta to come along and console you. They’ve never seen it really happen though. Usually they would leave the two of you behind and go on with there mission/day.

Then Yuta had to suddenly leave to Africa and well you were a mess. They had absolutely no idea on how to deal with you. Maki would try to make you feel better by being positive.

"We’ll look at the bright side you saved yourself twenty bucks." Maki said as the both of you watched a 13 year old take the last makeup product you were really looking forward too. It was trending all over Japan and you were dying to get your hands on it. You had to wait for pay day to come in so you could get your hands on it though.

You turned to look at Maki with eyes already watering.

"But I wanted it for days now! What’s a kid going to do with makeup?" Tears start to roll down.

Maki looked at you and then the little girl contemplating the solution in her head."Fine, I’ll fight the little twerp." Maki said pulling her sleeves up.

You quickly grab your arm and shake your head telling her it was fine. Maki panicked not wanting to cause a scene in the store. She then patted your back and continued to say more positive things but nothing seemed to work. At the end you both went home as you cried.

Panda and Inumaki tend to try to make you laugh. As you guessed it doesn’t work. It seemed like everything they’ve done has failed.

Then the next year rolled around and Maki would pray that someone would be able to put up with you. That also didn’t happen sadly. The first time they witnessed you cry was over your Ice cream that fell onto the ground. They all looked shocked and looked at the second years for help.

Today you decided to cry over a failed test grade. You held the paper in your hands as you looked at the biggest 69 smacked on the paper. Gojo made sure to emphasize that you failed by putting a crying cat sticker on it.

Panda turned to see your eyes watering. He slowly turned his paper around to hide his passing grade. "It’s okay y/n I also failed."

You look up at him with such a sad face. "You’re the worst liar!" You cry harder. Everyone knew panda was one of the smartest. Before Maki could even step in to try to help out she was stopped by a hand. They all looked to see it was Yuta who was back. Panda wanted to yell that he was here but Maki punched him in the arm. It was a blessing that Yuta came back early from his trip. She didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

He came in from behind you and gave you a tight hug. Trying to keep your hairs away from your face at the same time.

"Wow y/n you almost passed! You’ve improved so much since I left." Yuta said as he looked at your paper with tear drops all over it. "I already took this test when I was abroad and flunked it. (Biggest lie ever) Do you think we could study together so we can score higher?" Yuta asks looking at you for approval.

You give him a small nod as you wipe your face. you didn’t know who you were talking to but you were okay with studying with someone else. "No more crying okay? You won’t be able to see what you got wrong while we go over it." He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped your face. He tends to always carry tissue because of you and well it comes in handy. Maki almost jumped out of her seat when she saw you stopped crying.

You finally look at him with red eyes. Then your eyes widen when you noticed who it was."Since when you were back? You where gone for so long and- and I was so sa" You say as tears started to roll down again not being able to finish your sentence. He laughs and hug you tighter than last time.

"I just got back! No more crying y/n, if you stop crying we can go get that makeup product you kept writing to me about." He says as he pats your head.

"About that, it’s pretty much sold out everywhere." Maki said

"Then we’ll just preorder it, or wait till it drops again. It’s not gone forever, for the mean time we can try out new products." Yuta said as he held you. You were still crying but not because of the grade or the product. It was because of how much you missed him and he understood that. He was going to make sure to spend the whole day with you no matter what.

Really short and sweet :)

[redvdress]

A/N: Just to see you smile, Captain Levi could even listen to Connie’s stupid jokes. Isn’t this what we call pure love? No warnings, Levi is a secret softie

SHITTY JOKES

The mess hall buzzed with the quiet hum of conversation, the air thick with the scent of the evening’s meal—a simple stew with fresh bread, a rare treat. After a grueling day of training, everyone was feeling the strain, yet these shared meals were one of the few moments that brought a sense of normalcy to the lives of the Survey Corps. There was a comforting routine to it: the clatter of plates, the low murmur of voices, and the occasional burst of laughter, even in the face of all they had seen.

You sat wedged between Sasha and Connie, both of whom were already on their second helpings, having devoured their first plates in record time. Across from you sat Captain Levi, his posture as rigid as always, his hand loosely gripping a cup of tea. Even in these rare moments of respite, he was ever-watchful, his sharp eyes scanning the room. He never fully relaxed, but tonight, there was a subtle softness in his gaze, especially when it flicked toward you.

Down at the end of the table, Hange was her usual animated self, talking rapidly and gesturing wildly as she tried to explain her latest theory to Commander Erwin, who listened with a mixture of patience and amusement. “I’m telling you, Erwin! The Titans aren’t just mindless—they’ve got patterns we’re not seeing yet!” she exclaimed, her hands slicing through the air with each word.

Erwin, calm as ever, nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his mug. “Interesting, Hange. We’ll have to look into that further.” His tone was even, though it was clear from the twitch of his lips that he was used to Hange’s more… enthusiastic outbursts.

Back at your end of the table, Connie leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Hey, guys,” he said, grinning as he looked around. “Want to hear a joke?”

Sasha groaned immediately, her head dropping into her hands as if she already knew what was coming. “Connie, please no. Not tonight. I don’t think I can take it,” she mumbled through a mouthful of bread. “Your jokes are almost as bad as the food ration days.”

Despite yourself, you smirked, waiting for Connie’s inevitable attempt. His jokes were terrible, everyone knew it—but somehow, they always managed to bring a laugh. Connie, completely ignoring Sasha’s protests, carried on, his grin widening. “Come on, this one’s actually good! Just trust me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sasha said, shaking her head but smiling. “This is going to be painful.”

Captain Levi, who normally would have shut down any nonsense in an instant, remained silent, watching with an unreadable expression. His eyes, however, occasionally flicked toward you. He wasn’t known for indulging in small talk or jokes, but something tonight—maybe the subtle tired smile on your face—made him hold back. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was permission enough for Connie to continue.

“Alright, alright,” Connie said, rubbing his hands together as if preparing for a grand performance. “Why did the Scouting Legion recruit the scarecrow?”

Sasha groaned loudly. “I don’t know, Connie. Why?” She sounded resigned, already bracing for the punchline.

“Because he was outstanding in his field!” Connie announced, his face lighting up as if he’d delivered the cleverest line of the century.

The table erupted into a chorus of groans, Sasha burying her face in her hands again, but this time she was laughing despite herself. “Connie, that was terrible!” she managed between chuckles, shaking her head. “How do you even come up with these?”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, your exhaustion lifting for a brief moment as the silliness of it all sunk in. Across the table, you caught Levi’s eyes again. His face remained stoic, but there was something softer in the way he was looking at you—something protective, almost fond.

“You look like you’re about to kill him,” you whispered to Levi, leaning in slightly.

Levi’s eyes flickered with a brief spark of amusement before he shrugged, the smallest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “If it makes you laugh,” he said, his voice quiet but warm, “I’ll tolerate his idiocy.”

It was such a rare response from him, but somehow, it felt perfectly in character—gruff, practical, yet tinged with a hidden care that only surfaced in moments like this.

Meanwhile, Hange, having heard the punchline, let out a loud, cackling laugh from the end of the table. “That’s great! Outstanding in his field! Connie, you’re on to something!” she said, wiping a tear from her eye as Erwin smiled softly, clearly entertained by Hange’s enthusiasm more than the joke itself.

“You’re just encouraging him,” Sasha muttered, though she was still laughing.

“I think you’re just jealous, Sasha,” Connie shot back, grinning. “At least I’ve got a talent for something other than eating.”

“Hey!” Sasha protested, her face mock-offended as she shoved another piece of bread into her mouth with dramatic flair. “Eating is a talent! I’m ensuring we don’t waste anything. Very noble of me, really.”

“You’re like a vacuum,” Connie teased, but there was nothing but fondness in his voice.

As the laughter slowly died down, the mood around the table remained light. The shared jokes and banter, though simple, were a rare gift in their harsh world—a brief reminder of normalcy amid the chaos. Levi, his gaze now fixed back on his tea, allowed himself a rare moment of calm. His mind never wandered far from the dangers they faced, but tonight, in this small moment, he let his guard down just a little.

The night deepened, and one by one, the squad members began to retire to their bunks. Hange was the last to leave the table, still rambling to Erwin about Titan behavior as they disappeared into the hallway. Sasha and Connie left together, still bickering playfully about whose skills were more valuable to the team, their laughter echoing down the corridor.

Levi remained at the table, his eyes flicking toward you one last time before he too rose to his feet. He didn’t say anything, but his silence, as usual, spoke volumes. For all his cold, distant demeanor, moments like this were Levi’s way of reminding you—without words—that he was watching, and that in his own quiet way, he cared.

[gorefreaklintjrwi]

Ah, rats!

Lint and Troy find three rats that were dumped by an old owner. Troy insists that he doesn't want to keep them, but he cannot resist the love of the rats.

fuck it post 670 word lintroller fic at 3am. there is probably grammar/spelling mistakes but im too tired to care right now. will probably post this to ao3 some other time

“Lint, broski, we can’t keep those things. Those are freakin’ rats!”

“But they’ll freeze out there, it’s too cold! We can send ‘em back to a pet store later, man.”

Troy doesn’t have time to protest before Lint is already out the door and rushing to a pet store to get supplies. He takes a seat next to the small cardboard box, because what else is there to do? And suddenly a small gray head pops out of it, making him jump. Black, beady eyes staring back at him. It’s kind of freaking him out.

Lint mentioned there being multiple of them in there, so Troy takes a peek in the box to see what they all look like. And there sit three little rats. A  gray one with a white snout, which he’d already seen, an albino one, and a dark brown one with white feet. They’re all huddled together in a corner trying to keep warm, and the white one looks scared.

Troy blinks, and before he can even do anything, he feels the claws of a rat running up his arm and onto his shoulders. And it feels so cold. So cold. He feels bad for these small animals, they’ve been out there for who knows how long, just trying to keep warm. How could someone do this? They seem so sweet, why would someone want to give that up? He feels the rat sniffing his ear. He sees in the corner of his eye that it’s that little brown rat. Troy sees a bit of himself when he looks at that rat, when he felt it running up his arm so quickly, it’s like when he’s steamsledding. And hey, that gray one there sort of reminds him of a steamsled! And that tiny little albino rat, it’s white like a cloud. Like cloudspire. And Troy thinks those are great names. Troy Jr., Steamsled, and Cloudspire. They could just call him Cloud for short. But it’s not like they’re gonna keep these rats, anyway.

Some time later, Lint comes home with a small cage, it’ll be temporary, and some rat food. When they walk through the door, he’s shocked to see that Troy, who said that he couldn’t care less about these rats, was covered in them. The brown rat on his right shoulder, the gray one on his left, and the albino one hesitantly crawling onto his hand.

“I thought you hated rats, man!” Lint called out from the doorway.

“I do, broski, but Troy Jr. here climbed up on my shoulder super quickly and the other two followed him out! And I couldn’t just put ‘em back, man, they’re cold and I’m freaking, like, warmer than them, or something. So they wanted to keep warm!” Troy defended himself, although it’s very clear that at the very least, he doesn’t hate these rats.

Lint stifles a laugh. They don't think they’ll be getting rid of these three any time soon, considering Troy’s already named them.

-----------

And he was right! A few days later they were returning the small cage to the pet store and replacing it with a larger one fit for three wonderful rats. They got more supplies, more toys for the rats, and soon they’d both forgotten about the fact that they were going to give these rats up. Every morning and night, Troy just watches the rats eat their food. He likes the sound they make. He likes to watch the way they act around each other. He likes seeing Troy Jr. lay on top of Steamsled, he likes watching those two fight while Cloud sneaks up and steals whatever they’re fighting over. Even if he hates most rats, these ones surely have a place in his heart.

It’s always just been Troy and Lint, but now it’s not just them. It’s Troy and Lint, and Troy Jr., Steamsled, and Cloud. Neither of them even know if rodents are allowed in the apartment, but neither of them care either. It’s all worth it.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Morpheus' Adventure with Animal Control

Morpheus' Adventure with Animal Control: Morpheus gets picked up animal control and sent to the local animal shelter. Matthew sends you to the rescue.

Warnings: Meowpheus, Language, Nudity.

To Note: Morpheus x Reader.

Word Count: ~4.3k

How dare these humans assume that he is just another cat on the streets! Morpheus is fuming, naturally. He’s been wandering the streets of your hometown, tending to the dreams of the cats, when some mortal picks him up and stuffs him in a cage! How dare they think he’s just another stray! But there’s nothing the Endless can do, as he’s currently barred from shifting back to his human form or using his power due to an agreement with his sibling. It’s a temporary agreement, but nonetheless, he’s stuck as a cat and in the hands of mortals!

Sharp blue eyes glare at the metal grates confining him in a box. Morpheus lets out a displeased rumble. The mortal sitting in the driver’s seat glances at the black feline and chuckles.

“I know, buddy, living on the street was probably freeing, but now you can have a home and not worry about where your next meal will come from!” Morpheus’ eye twitches, and he lets out another huff. The mortal thinks she’s doing him a charity! He has no need for such things nor does he need a home. He already has one within the Waking World. Your home.

Grumpily settling in place, Morpheus turns his eyes to the window above his cage and watches as buildings pass. Help will come, much to Morpheus’ distaste. Reduced to a stray feline... The rest of the car ride to the animal shelter, Morpheus is subjected to subpar singing and baby voices from the woman.

When the woman gets out of the car and carries Morpheus towards a building, his claws dig into the plastic beneath him as he’s jostled. He makes more sounds of an unhappy feline but only receives more babyish cooing from the woman. Never again, he promises himself, he will never allow himself to be in such a compromising position. He’s jostled some more as the woman moves from room to room until the Dream Lord finds himself in a large room that smells of chemicals and other felines. The box is placed on a table, and Morpheus eyes the metal grates when more voices join the woman.

“Where did you find this one?”

“Near the park where we found the others last week. This one seems to be well-fed, so I don’t think he was born feral.” Feral? Morpheus bristles at being called feral... but the conversation only grows worse. “I didn’t see anything that signaled he’d been abandoned, so maybe he ran away.”

“We can check for a microchip. You got the scanner?” A device is passed between the mortals just as the metal grate in front of Morpheus opens. A face appears before hands reach into the cage and grab his body. Morpheus is too stunned by the utter audacity of the mortal to do anything other than let them haul his large body from his confines.

He’s a very large cat. Far larger than the mortals expect, and by far the largest they’ve ever seen. And entirely black. Placed on his feet, Morpheus eyes the mortals as something is waved over his neck.

“He’s not microchipped.” A deeper voice says while Morpheus lets out a disgruntled meow and tries to sulk off the cold table. Hands stop him, pulling Morpheus right back to the center of the table.

“Not microchipped. We can put out a notice with his picture, see if someone recognizes him.” A mortal speaks while hands press against his body. Morpheus reluctantly allows the prodding, not wanting to react in any way other than what’s expected of a feline. He’s beginning to get short-tempered with the touches but withholds lashing out with his claws and teeth... that is until the vet tries to take his temperature...

You haven’t seen Morpheus within the Dreaming in several days... he’s also stood you up on your visits to the park. Not the worst thing in the world, but you’re slightly upset because you sort of kind of have a crush on the Endless and him ghosting you hurts. But you’re not dating, and he doesn’t seem to be romantically interested (at least in your mind, he however…). So you’re morosely sipping a hot drink while staring out a window in your flat, trying not to be depressed. That’s when a black blob flies into your window with a loud smack, startling you.

“What the hell?” You gape, setting your drink down and standing up. Had that been a bird? It’s a little big to be one of the crows you occasionally see in your housing area. As you step up to the pane of glass, you catch sight of a very dazed Matthew sprawled out on the ground just outside. “What the hell, Matthew!” You exclaim, running for the back door of your flat. Exiting the building, you scurry up to the downed bird in confusion.

“I think I scrambled my brain,” Matthew groans while you collect his body. “Totally thought that was an open window.”

“Nope, that window doesn’t open,” you tell him as you carry him into your flat. Depositing him onto the table, you check the rattled raven over for injuries and are happy to see that he has none. “So... why’d you try to fly in here in such a rush?”

“Oh yeah!” Matthew exclaims, snapping to and scrambling to his stick-like feet. “WE’VE GOT TROUBLE!” The raven thunders in your face. You’re about to tell Matthew to tone it down, but he isn’t done. “So the boss is kind of stuck as a cat right now and can’t shift back for a little while, and he just got picked up by animal control!”

You blink, your mind trying to process what Matthew has shouted at you with such fervor.

“Sorry, what was that?” You question, your eyebrows scrunching together.

“Morpheus is stuck in his cat form and the animal shelter is going to neuter him!” Matthew screeches in a bluster, not knowing if the shelter would actually neuter the Endless... but at this point? It’s not out of the realm of possibilities. That’s the usual routine at shelters to reduce the feral population. Only Morpheus isn’t feral. Neither is he a cat.

“How the fuck did that happen?” You blurt out. Matthew waves his wings.

“Fuck if I know! You gotta save him before he gets the snip-snip!”

“Right, probably should do that,” you mutter to yourself, frantically looking for your car keys. You’re out of your flat and in your car in under twenty seconds, not giving Matthew a chance to even tell you what Morpheus looks like as a cat. The raven only hopes that you’ll figure out which cat is Morpheus... and that you make it before his boss loses his dignity.

You’re well frazzled by the time you barge into the town’s local animal shelter. They all look at you in surprise before someone approaches and asks if they can help you.

“My cat,” you blurt out loudly. “He’s— I lost my cat... I was told he was taken here, but I—” You don’t know what to say, because you’ve never seen Morpheus in cat form. You don’t know if he looks like a specific breed, what size he is, or if he has any identifying marks. You know nothing. Luckily, the shelter volunteer doesn’t ask you any questions and simply leads you to the holding room full of cats. You’re overwhelmed; the room is a storage area with several cats sulking about. Shit. He could be any one of them.

“I’ll leave you here to be reunited with your kitty,” the worker tells you. “Doc’s calling; I’ll be away for only a bit.” You watch them walk away and whimper, fearing you won’t be able to pick out who Morpheus is because none of the cats have an ‘Endless’ vibe.

Dropping into a lone chair, you slump your head into your hands with a defeated sound as a few of the cats come up to sniff you. You try to find Morpheus among them, you really do, but none of them act like Morpheus or look like him. Would cat Morpheus even act like the normal Morpheus you’re used to? While you’re almost ready to break down into tears at the thought of Morpheus being stuck as a cat and heaven forbid, neutered, the worker returns.

“Did you find— Oh my, no! Bad kitty!” The worker exclaims, much to your confusion. You look at what they’re staring at, only to find an enormous black cat with a cone of shame standing in front of you and staring into your eyes with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. You know that gaze. The cat jumps into your lap and rises on its hind legs to plant its paws on your chest. Relief floods your body because you know this is Morpheus.

Then you notice the bandage wrapped around his hind leg.

“Morpheus, what did you do!?” You sharply exclaim, your hands reaching for the clearly wrapped injury. No wonder he’s wearing the cone of shame! Morpheus begins softly purring to reassure you and assert that he’s fine and there’s no need for you to worry.

“Oh! Is this your cat?” The worker asks as you peer at the feline’s injured leg. It’s tightly wrapped, and most likely the reason for the cone. You look at them and nod.

“Yes, he’s my cat,” you stutter out, your fingers unconsciously running down the feline dream lord’s back. He finds your touch pleasurable and arches his back into your touch. “I... I didn’t realize he’d gotten out.”

I am pleased that you came to rescue me from these deplorable mortals.

“They’re just doing their job,” you automatically chide Morpheus as he lets out a disgruntled meow. “Don’t complain.”

They tried to accost— You cut off Morpheus’ accusing words.

“Not right now,” you tell him before your cheeks grow hot. The worker probably can’t hear Morpheus speaking to you, so it would be odd for you to argue with him while he’s in cat form. What kind of nutty human talks to their cat like this? You clear your throat. “I’m so sorry if he caused you trouble. May I ask what happened? He wasn’t like this last I knew...” The worker waves you off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. He seems quite attached to you, and some cats just don’t like people other than their owners.” Your hand, which rests on Morpheus’ back, presses down to stop him from going off on a tangent about him being an Endless and no Endless have owners. He doesn’t speak but certainly lets out a rumbling growl to air his displeasure. “When we were giving him a check-up, he didn’t like having his temperature checked. He hurt himself trying to escape the exam room, so cone of shame for him.”

You eye Morpheus with a raised eyebrow, and he just huffs and presses himself further against your chest, practically laying on you. You pat the space between his ears to calm him down as he eyes the worker with a clear warning.

“He’s not usually so mean,” you nervously say, running your fingers down Morpheus’ long back. His fur feels so soft and silky, but you honestly wonder why he’s so big.

I am not mean... and get this deplorable mortal contraption off my neck! Morpheus demands, his eyes staring into yours like pools of cerulean water.

You ignore the grumbling Endless and wrap your arms around his body to hold him against your chest while you stand up. He’s heavy, as expected given his large size... but the Endless decides to help you out by wiggling upwards and placing his paws on your shoulder, holding himself up as best he can with the monstrosity around his neck. He’s graced with a very nice view of your ass and takes that as part of his consolation prize.

“Is there any paperwork I need to do before I take him home?” you ask, wanting to get the grumpy and injured Dream Lord back to your flat before he causes any more chaos or mayhem.

“Just some sign-out paperwork,” the worker cheerfully replies before guiding you to the front desk. While you’re filling out the paperwork, Morpheus reluctantly has to be placed in an animal carrier to be transported back to your flat. You try to ignore his angry yowls and hisses and certainly the threats and exclamations that float into your mind. There are many threats of ‘you dare...’ and ‘I will darken your dreams with nightmares...’

When you get back to your flat and figure out what the hell is going on, you know Morpheus is going to be in one of his moods. It wouldn’t surprise you if you had nightmares tonight. Sighing, you finish the paperwork and return the pen before looking at Morpheus, who has his razor-sharp claws digging into the soft cardboard of the disposable cat carrier that only just fits his size.

“Morpheus!” you exclaim in exasperation. The yowling cat freezes at your call and looks at you, as do the workers trying to get him into the carrier. “Just let them put you in, the sooner you do that, the sooner you can go home.”

I will not—

You point at the carrier more firmly, and Morpheus ceases his grumbles and struggles almost instantly. He doesn’t wish to argue with you or make trouble, so he goes limp and lets the mortals stuff him into the box and close it. They’re shocked by his sudden compliance.

“Wow, he sure listens to you,” the receptionist says as you hold your tongue and dread the retaliation you’ll get for yelling at an Endless. “What kind of breed is he? He’s so big! I’ve never seen a cat with such pretty eyes. He’s a handsome boy.”

“I think he’s got some Maine Coon in him,” you vaguely mutter, taking the offered carrier and glowering cat from a worker. You can hear Morpheus’ soft grumbled hisses about the babying he’s being subjected to. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him. He’s not usually so grumpy.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’s just stressed out and wants to go home.” You give the workers a thankful smile before lugging Morpheus back to your car and quickly putting him in the passenger seat.

“Let’s agree to never do that again,” you speak, pulling out of the shelter’s parking lot.

Release me.

“Not now.”

Y/N, you will release me from my confines.

“Not while I’m driving!” Morpheus huffs and tries to get comfortable within his small confines. He’ll be free soon enough. So he stares at you through the little holes in the cardboard box, watching your face scrunch up in concentration. It’s only a short drive to your flat, but by the time you park in your driveway and are lugging Morpheus into your house, the sky has opened up and it’s pouring rain.

Stumbling into your flat, you set Morpheus down and let out a deep breath. You’re soaked. Morpheus is apparently stuck as a cat. This is above your pay grade and you’re not even paid! First things first, get Morpheus out and rid him of that cone before he rages at you. Crouching down, you push your dripping hair over your shoulder and undo the little tabs to open the cardboard box. The moment you do, Morpheus awkwardly shoves his coned head up at you with insistence.

“The receptionist was right,” you murmur to yourself. “You are a very handsome cat.”

While I appreciate your sentiments, this is but a temporary form.

You blink and feel your cheeks grow hot. Right. Morpheus can still hear you perfectly well and communicate just the same.

“Speaking of which, how long are you stuck like this?” you ask, your fingers working to undo the collar. When you have it off, Morpheus jumps out of the box and shakes out his body.

The deal shall wear off in hours, or perhaps a day or two. I know not the exact time, but it is soon. Morpheus explains to you, turning in a circle and shaking the leg with the bandage around it. It itches and he finds the cloth irritating.

“Don’t do that,” you scold him, reaching back to stop him from shaking off the bandage.

It is but a mere scratch that will heal once I return to my mortal form. The Endless promises you, sitting down and staring into your worried eyes. You sigh and raise an eyebrow at the Dream Lord. I would not lie to you.

“Okay, just—keep it on for my sake, please?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing once more. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” As you speak, you reach out and brush your fingertips between Morpheus’ ears. The Endless purrs and bumps your fingers, pleased that you’re not terribly upset. He would be despondent should you be upset over such a thing.

Looking down at your soaked attire, you pull your wet shirt away from your skin and grimace.

“Well, now that that has been sorted, I am going to take a shower and get ready for bed. It’s been a long day.” You rise to your feet and begin peeling your clothes off, not really thinking about the fact that Morpheus is in your flat and will definitely be getting a view. The Endless himself is rather in awe of what he sees as you dump your wet clothing in a hamper, now only wearing undergarments. You are an incredibly beautiful human, and oh how he wishes he had the pleasure of acquainting himself with it.

He plans on it. He’s been slowly wooing you over the last few weeks. You both regularly meet at a park, which he consequently missed because of his current condition, and the Endless is now itching to simply declare his intentions with you before someone else comes along and snatches you up. So he follows the route you walked through your flat and then slips through the cracked door into the steamy bathroom.

The shower is on, and you’re humming under your breath as you bathe. Morpheus likes the sound of your voice, your hums even more. He jumps up onto the bathroom counter and sits on the edge, happily listening to you. Waiting. You don’t take long in your shower. You just want to warm up and give your hair a quick wash, nothing too extravagant. When you turn the shower off and draw back the curtains while reaching for your bath towel, you are not expecting to see Morpheus the cat calmly sitting on your bathroom counter, staring at you. With a loud yelp, you quickly cover your naked body with the towel.

“Morpheus!” you hiss at him, mortification now singeing your cheeks. His dark head cocks to the side unperturbed.

We need to speak. You stare at him, wondering if he really just barged into your bathroom and waited for you to get out of the shower. Apparently, he had.

“Do we?” you repeat, craftily maneuvering the towel around your body to better cover yourself. “I’m tired and almost brain-dead. Your little stint at the animal shelter drained me, and I’m still wrapping my head around you being a cat.”

I have many forms... but if you wish to hold off the conversation until the morrow, I will humor you.

“How magnanimous of you,” you dryly reply, walking past him to your bedroom. You make a point to shut the door in his face before he can sneak in so you can change without him peeking at you. This displeases the Endless, and he scratches the door with a paw to make it known. Very known. “I’m changing!” you call back to him, rolling your eyes. He really is acting like a cat.

And I fail to see why you must do so behind a closed door.

“Because I’m naked! That’s why!” Again, he doesn’t understand why you’re being so modest about your body.

You have one of the most beautiful bodies in all of creation, Y/N. Again, may I reiterate my failure to understand why you must have this barrier between us? Morpheus really doesn’t understand why you’re so shy about your complete and utter beauty. If you would just allow him the chance to explain how in love he is with you, then none of this would be necessary! He scratches at the door again, this time with both front paws. Scratch, scratch, scratch. You open the door, dressed in a shirt and underwear, and stare down at the Endless feline in exasperation.

“We are not in a romantic relationship, Morpheus,” you tell him with cheeks aflame. “And I am plain in comparison to those you’ve come across in your life. Let’s not pretend that you’re interested in a mortal, okay?”

I do not appreciate your words of self-demean, Y/N. You have no idea what has gotten his tail in a twist, and you’re not interested in having your heart ripped to shreds by an Endless, so you roll your eyes and go back to drying your hair. Once your hair is moderately dried and ready for bed, you climb into bed and turn out the light with a sigh. Tomorrow, you’re sure that things will return to normal and your odd relationship with Dream of the Endless will go back to the way it was. Just... acquaintances... maybe even friends.

Padding over to the side of your bed, Morpheus jumps up onto the soft surface and walks his way over to your face. You blink at him in confusion.

“You don’t need to stay here while I sleep, you know. I’m sure there are other places you’d rather be.”

I am exactly where I wish to be. Morpheus tells you, rubbing his face against your shoulder to mark you. Then he turns in a circle before settling down next to your chest. You will talk in the morning, and you will finally understand why the Endless spends so much time with you.

“You better inform Matthew that you’re alright,” you murmur, your eyes closing. Your fingers reach out to gently stroke Morpheus’ soft body, and he begins purring. “He was really worried about you.”

Sleep. Such a bossy feline.

You always wake up hot without fail, smothered by blankets and uncomfortable. So when you yawn and snuggle back into your cool mattress, you’re almost keyed into the fact that something is off. But you’re so comfortable and drowsy that you pass off that confusion in exchange for more snuggles with your bed. Then you realize that you’re not exactly sprawled on your mattress, and the coolness you’re feeling is coming from someone else. Dragging your eyes open, you stare at the wall opposite your bed for a few moments in confusion. Then it hits you that you’re half on top of someone, clinging to them with your arm.

“Do you feel rested?” Morpheus’ voice is like a battering ram in your ear, jump-starting your heart and making you physically jerk in place and scramble around so you’re on your hands and knees staring at him. Oh. My. God. He blinks at you expectantly, patiently waiting for an answer. He’s been up since returning to mortal form and has been waiting for you.

“You’re back to normal,” you comment weakly.

“Indeed,” the Endless agrees, tilting his head to the side. “I returned to this form some hours ago.”

“You’re still here,” you dumbly point out. His eyebrow goes up.

“I wish to speak with you regarding a sensitive topic. You asked to wait until the next day to do so, so I have waited.”

“You are naked!” you whisper-shout, trying not to combust or turn into a tomato. God, your body feels so hot at the moment! “And I just slept on you, and you let me!”

“You were deep within your dreams, blissfully resting. I did not wish to tear you from such peace,” Morpheus points out before raising a hand and gently stroking your chin. “Now, before you come up with some other excuse to avoid speaking with me, I shall simply inform you of what has been plaguing my mind these last few weeks.”

You tremble in place, hypnotized by his starry blue gaze that you are more than grateful keeps you from openly gawking at Morpheus’ naked god-like body.

“Okay?” you ask hesitantly, slumping onto your shins.

“I feel for you most ardently, Y/N, and wish to ask permission to court you should you be so willing.” Your brain short-circuits for a few moments as you comprehend what Morpheus has just said. Heart pounding in your chest, you force yourself to remain calm.

“And... you felt the need to tell me this when you are naked?” Morpheus’ lips quirk to the side.

“I believe we have skirted around this topic long enough and the opportunity presented itself.”

“You could have gone back to the Dreaming and gotten changed, or just magicked yourself an outfit,” you point out, your fingers twitching against your bedsheets. It’s getting harder not to look.

“Perhaps, but you were most comfortable and I dared not disturb you.” In essence, he’d returned to human form and let you sleep on his naked body for a good chunk of time. How embarrassing. Clearly, he likes seeing you squirm.

“I should have left you at the shelter,” you gripe at him for teasing you. You receive another smirk as Morpheus teasingly brushes his thumb across your lower lip.

“A lie, surely.”

“Next time you get stuck in cat form? You’re on your own.” You’re all bluster, he knows it. You know it. The entire Dreaming knows it.

Date Published: 7/12/23

Last Edit: 5/28/24

Sequel: The Endless’ Adventure with Animal Control Masterlist

Morpheus Masterlist

[literaila]

listening ears 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: in which peter is terrible at keeping secrets. and socks. 

warnings: idiots to friends to lovers, no angst just pining, arguments, fluff, ahhhh

a/n: heres the link to the playlist. for a real time experience, listen. (this makes it sound like an amusement park which i think is funny)

word count: 10k

the first time you meet him, you're listening to sad music. 

it's unclear which song--being that it's late enough that they've begun to blur together, instrumental shifting to piano and soft sullen voices and heartbeats you can't hear but feel--but it rings in your ears as he walks by. 

as spider-man is suddenly in front of you, suddenly right in front of your bench, flashing blue and red and ego and playing with some weird white string between his fingers. 

you're also fairly certain that he's cursing. 

so, quietly, you hit pause on your phone, taking out an earbud. you watch him, hoping that he's already noticed your presence. 

hoping that maybe he'll leave and there will be no questioning--from either of you--about what you're doing out this late on a night like this. 

the snow on your head has melted, turning your hair several different forms of wet. 

and when spider-man has not looked up, or any other place he might be mugged, you, graciously, clear your throat. 

alerting him of your presence and beginning an attempt to beg him to leave. 

spider-man, unsurprisingly, jumps back. 

his white eyes are wide, but that might just be the costume. 

you smile and wave. 

"wha--" he looks around, behind himself, like you might be waving at someone else. "when did you get there?" he asks. 

his voice is quieter than you've heard it before. less animated. maybe a bit rough, or sore. 

you tilt your head, lifting a brow. "about an hour ago." 

spider-man stares blankly at you. "no." 

you contemplate laughing, or maybe tripping him with your leg as he peers closer at you, but ultimately hum. "okay." you drawl, "maybe i didn't." 

your smile is soft. your voice is abundantly sweet. 

you do not doubt that if spider-man wanted to, he could make both of you disappear in an instant. 

not that you're afraid, of course. you've seen the news. and experienced an average day in new york. 

spider-man tries again to pull his hands apart. fails. 

"sticky?" you ask him, swinging your legs. 

you think--but really just know--that spider-man glares at you. 

and then, with the subtleness of a child, he leans up again, straightening his back. clears his throat like he's got a lot to say. "what are you doing out so late?" 

his voice might be even deeper now, as some method of intimidation. 

unfortunately for him, you got over your fear of spiders a couple of months ago. 

"i could ask you the same thing," you respond. 

spider-man does not find this amusing, apparently, because he just stares at you. waiting and watching. 

eventually, maybe just to evade some awkward silence approaching, you sigh and relent. "i was drawing," you say, gesturing to the notebook you set aside. 

you don't tell him about the music, or your sore eyes. 

or about how when he first showed up you almost fell off the bench. 

these are things he probably doesn't need to know, you think. 

spider-man must frown or something because he grumbles out his next question. "drawing?" he repeats. "at three in the morning? in the dark?" 

"there's a light right there," you point to the streetlight above your head, the picture of innocence. 

you continue to smile at this man, if only because he seems to find it immensely irritating. 

"aren't you cold?" 

"the weather?" you furrow your brows, criticizing him. "c'mon, i thought you were better than that." 

"it's snowing." 

"i hadn't noticed." 

"your paper is getting wet--" he points to your notebook, to the soiled edges. 

it's the first thing to make you frown since he's shown up. 

"shit," you whisper, brushing some snow and lead off of the paper. "i liked this one." 

"sorry." spider-man clears his throat again. he bounces between feet like he's freezing. 

"is spandex warm?" you ask him, leaning forward. 

"i'm fine."

you frown. "are you always this grumpy? or is it just cause i scared ya?" 

"you didn't scare me." 

"must be the hands then," you say, leaning over so you can try and see the hands he's kept hidden behind his back. 

but spider-man pulls them out--two of them--wiggling his fingers. 

you frown. "how'd you do that?" 

spider-man doesn't answer. instead, he looks around, probably for someone to rescue him. 

unfortunately, everyone else went to bed hours ago. 

you grin at him, suddenly and smoothly, holding your notebook out to him. "wanna see?" 

spider-man is definitely judging the mess of a journal you have, but he takes it from you anyway, if a bit hesitantly. "whoa--" he says, turning it over. and then he pauses. 

he looks back to you. 

you smile. 

"this is a penis." 

you and maturity have never gotten along. 

you make an effort to keep a blank face--snickering internally at the dry way he says it--and shake your head. "no," you say, "if you turn it over it's a smile." 

spider-man does so. 

and surely behind the mask, he's doing a slow blink, probably scowling at you. 

"do you like it?" you ask him, keeping your voice soft and sincere. 

he hands it back to you, sighing. "you should head home." 

"so, no?" 

"really," he says, almost gently. "you'll get frostbite. there's a reason no one else is out." 

you blink, leaning back. "except you?" 

spider-man swings his arms back and forth. he looks away. "except me." 

"you can't get frostbite?" you guess. 

and spider-man, despite himself, tries to smother a laugh with a cough. but you hear it clearly enough. 

you furrow your brows as you peer at him. 

and so he points a finger at you, stern. "get packing." 

"what if i live on this bench?" 

he doesn't laugh this time. he just starts to walk away, eyes still on you. "if you're not gone in five minutes i'm swinging you home." 

"you don't know where i live," you say, calling his bluff. 

but he turns around, waving nonchalantly.

you watch him, maybe surprised or irritated. 

either way, you call after him. 

and he spares you a glance. 

"maybe i'll draw you next time," you say. 

and then he's gone, and you're switching playlists. 

*

when peter runs into the bathroom he's not really thinking about germs. 

or toilet seats or washing his hands, or, obviously, checking the stalls for anyone else in there. 

the fire alarm went off two minutes ago; anyone who remains, peter thinks, is probably not going to connect any dots between him and spider-man. 

and when he unzips his backpack, digging his suit out of one of the pockets and cursing as pencils and pens fall onto the ground, he wonders why he didn't iron it this morning. 

why he even tried to do laundry yesterday, considering that he's not very good at it and may has definitely noticed. 

still, he kicks his shoes off. 

the floor isn't wet this time, peter's thinking, so thank god for that. 

he swings his jacket off of his shoulders and hurries to unbutton his pants. 

there's a gentle buzzing of a fan in the corner, only slightly drowned out by the siren that is giving peter a headache. and flashing lights. and people running by. 

and lots of chances to get caught, but not enough care in the world. 

and if peter focuses enough, he can hear some type of music playing, somewhere close. 

loud bass, quick rhythm. 

he almost pauses to think about it, and then decides against it.

he flings his pants onto the floor, folding his shirt over his head. 

it is very cold in this bathroom. 

still, peter slides his socks off, hating the tiled floors, and internally screaming when one of the socks falls under the stall, disappearing to places that peter does not have time to look in. 

and then he's squeezing into a very irritating suit. 

trying to remind himself what the greater good is and blah blah blah. . . 

but his arms are sore as he tries to zip it up, jumping to reach. 

peter is insanely grateful for doors and peace and quiet and advil, of course. 

and finally--finally--when he has the suit on, he scrambles to pick up everything he left on the floor while also putting his web-slingers on. 

a good effort, really. 

he sticks his backpack to the wall, promising himself that he's not going to forget it. 

and then he unlocks his stall, beginning to step out when he catches a glance of you. 

standing right in front of him, white earbud dangling toward the ground, proud smirk as you hold his sock up. 

peter pauses. he stares at you. 

you tap an innocent finger on your chin. "aren't you supposed to check the bathroom before you change?" 

peter's first move is to try and grab the sock from your hand. but you, swift on your feet, duck away, humming to yourself. 

"you're gonna go save a bunch of people with a sock in your hand?" you ask him.

peter thinks for a moment--not about socks, thank god--if you were standing in there when he walked in. 

if you had paused when he burst through the door, not thinking about what bathroom this was or any person who might've stuck around. if your eyes were wide and mischievous--as they are now--when he quickly ducked into a stall. 

but he knows, really, that you weren't there. 

because, peter recognizes, he wouldn't have been able to miss you. 

still, you're smirking at him. 

"better get out there, spider-man," you say, gesturing towards the door. 

and peter doesn't have the time to curse at you because you're right. 

he doesn't bother to try and grab his sock again. 

and when peter opens the door he can hear it--

your laugh. 

and a gentle throbbing of another one bites the dust coming from your headphones. 

*

you're trying not to laugh. 

really, it's an extreme effort as you store the snort deep inside your chest, trying to melt the smile off of your face. 

you are squirming in your seat as your sternum begs for some sort of relief. 

and you contemplate leaving the library before this goes too far. before you start cackling in his face, unable to hold back--even if he gives you a weird look and everyone else around you starts complaining. 

there's not much you can do to stop it, honestly, not when you've been sitting here, studying, for the last hour, music lulling you almost to sleep. and not when the boy who is now sitting in the cubicle next to you kicked his feet out, revealing some scruffed up converse. 

and of course, some mismatched socks. 

when you looked down--in a moment of weakness, dropping some type of pencil--you had to do a double take. 

not that you can judge this boy, who you've been studying for the last five minutes and his choice of attire. you lose your own socks all of the time. 

but there's a grey sock, plain and casual and not unlike your own. and then, just a couple of inches over, there's another sock. this one with a striped, colorful pattern, and words on the other side that you can't really read--for lack of view--but recognize almost immediately. 

because, coincidently, you have the same sock in your backpack, awaiting a certain visitor. 

and so, as soon as you looked up at this boy, the amusement crowded your not-so-subtle eyes. 

he's got brown hair, a frown on his face as he reads a textbook that looks much more than dreadful. his chin is jutted out, his teeth idly munching on the lip between them. a headphone in one ear.

and, of course, this boy doesn't look over. he seems almost unaware of your presence. 

and maybe that's what makes this so funny. 

being that you've experienced this a couple of times now, and it's getting really hard to not say anything about it. 

synchronicities, you know, can only go on for so long. 

and this boy--this strange, somewhat attractive boy--is blissfully ignorant. 

and you can't believe that he's wearing those socks in public.

you clear your throat, smile unstoppable now. 

but he doesn't look over. 

and you cover your mouth, shaking your head and turning yourself completely so that when he finally does decide to look over, he will know that you've been staring at him. 

he will know that there's no avoiding this interaction. 

which, for some strange reason, you're getting immense pleasure out of. 

if you listen close enough you can hear the music he's playing. 

some melancholy guitar music, completely what you would've assumed from him. 

it makes you smile even wider. 

you clear your throat again, leaning forward, legs crossed on your chair. 

you kind of want to make him jump. 

"excuse me," you say, softly. good enough to not draw any attention in this library. 

though, your smile might be enough to raise some eyebrows. 

the boy looks over, eyes wide and attentive. 

you note his face as he takes you in. 

"i was just wondering," you continue, innocently, "where you got your socks?" 

you have rendered this boy speechless. which you seem to do a lot of. 

you cough. "i mean, sock." 

he looks down, to his feet, and then to you, seeming to understand. you catch a smudge of panic in his eyes, carefully glazed over as he opens his mouth, trying to say something. 

he scratches his neck. blinking, with his mouth open, like he's trying to make sure that you're actually there. 

and, to be honest, this is exactly what you imagined of him. 

"lose all of your other pairs, too? or do you just like the look of clashing colors?" you blink at him, leaning back. 

he takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry?" 

"i mean," you shrug, turning back to your desk, "if it were me, i probably wouldn't wear those. especially when someone might have the exact same sock. but, to each their own." 

"you--" he awkwardly laughs. "i just, um, found this. in the bathroom." 

"was it in a backpack stuck to the wall?" you look back to him--his wide, scared, doe eyes--polite smile on your face. 

"actually, i bought them yesterday. they came like this." 

"interesting design choice," you respond. 

and the boy, who is still staring at you, though not quite as breathless now, ducks down, leaning closer to you. "what do you want?" he whispers, eyes glaring. 

"excuse me?" you whisper back.

"i'll--whatever it is, i'll try and get it. just don't--please don't tell anyone." 

you frown, resting your head on a hand. "tell anyone what?" 

"what you--" he looks around for anyone who might be listening. "what you know." 

you tilt your head, questioning, and amused eyes. 

"about me," he clarifies, almost hissing. 

you lean back, studying him. "we just met," you say, with a hand to your chest. 

he glares back. 

"i won't spread your questionable fashion choices around the school if that's what you mean." 

this boy still doesn't laugh. just like the first time, and the second, he seems to find you distasteful. almost annoying. 

and honestly, that might be the only thing fueling this fire in your veins. this want to mess with him until he drops. 

"seriously," he says, angry, "what do you want from me?" 

"just to know where you bought those." 

and then, as quietly and quickly as possible, you bend down to dig into your backpack, smiling in satisfaction as you find it, and then leaning back up, handing it to him. 

"i wouldn't leave those around," you whisper. "you never know who might try and copy you." 

you are almost threatening him. 

the boy glowers. "i don't know what you're talking about." 

you shrug, turning away again. 

but he grabs your arm. "what?" he demands, again and again. 

his eyes are angry, his face is hard and he's leaning away from you like you might reach out and turn him to dust. 

but you only smile, asking sweetly "what's your name?" 

he stares for a moment, blinking. "what?" 

"i think maybe we have met before," you answer. "you seem familiar." 

the boy grinds his teeth together. 

but you wait, shoving that chuckling down your chest. 

"peter," he says, the word mad and tough. 

"peter," you repeat, looking away from him. "nice to meet you. i'm y/n." 

you reach to shake his hand, and he stares at it like it's poison. 

you roll your eyes. "don't worry," you add, softly. "i haven't forgotten. i still have to draw you." 

his frown increases. 

and you laugh as you turn away, thinking about secrets. 

and listening to the music in peter's ears, still drifting over. 

*

peter is not really paying attention tonight. 

he roamed around all day--because there was nothing else to do--talking to strangers and not having to smile for pictures, just hoping for something to pop up. 

and it did, and then it didn't. 

when the problems are easy to fix, peter knows, they're less enjoyable. 

still, the distraction was nice. 

and you are not as you sit on a bench in front of him, smiling. 

you've got that look on your face--the one that makes peter want to run away. 

especially because you know who he is. 

because he's been especially reckless the past couple of weeks, and as a consequence, you have shown up. you have smiled at him, whispering gentle words and even gentler promises. 

and you've got a pencil in your hands. 

a glint in your eyes that peter's seen somewhere before. 

"fancy seeing you here," you say, amused. this is the same bench he passed by on the first night--when he was thinking about going home but didn't. 

peter curses his own stupid decisions; the difference that they could've made. 

"are you going to threaten me again?" peter asks, not really joking, though his voice gives nothing away. 

"i don't know what you're talking about." 

you're shrugging, looking away from him as your lips curl at the corners. 

and then you look back up. "you never did answer my question about the socks, though." 

peter rolls his eyes, though he doesn't miss the way he moves forward, trying to catch a glance at the surely explicit picture you're drawing. 

curiosity is a curse. 

"aren't you cold?" peter merely repeats. 

"it's not snowing. so, no." 

peter grunts. "another body part?" he nods toward the picture you're drawing, the thing you've chosen to look at instead of him. 

"a foot," you grin up at him, eyebrows raise. "though, if you wanted. . . i could get started on my picture of you." 

peter wishes you could see his frown. 

still, he takes another step towards you. "how much?" 

"hmm?" 

"how much are you charging for it?" 

peter watches you stifle a laugh, feels the pin-prick of pleasure in his chest. "only a smile," you say, head tilted. 

"no thanks, then." 

"c'mon, spider-man," you complain. "you're so much nicer to everyone else." 

"everyone else hasn't threatened me." 

you pout. "i won't tell anyone," you tell him, eyes wide, "if that's what you're worried about." 

peter doesn't answer, just stares at you. looking for any tells. 

"i mean," you continue, shrugging. "not that anyone would believe me. you've got enough frown lines to put me to shame." 

as if to prove your point, peter frowns. "what's that supposed to mean?" 

"well, i don't think anyone else has ever heard spider-man so much as grumble. so you. . ." you scrutinize him, nose wrinkled. "you couldn't be him." 

peter narrows his eyes. 

but you smile again, patting the bench next to you. "sit." 

"i can't. i'm working." 

you roll your eyes, sighing. "i'm the only one here. wouldn't you be better off watching me? just to make sure i don't do anything." 

you smile at him, and it's more vicious than kind. 

peter notes your eyes and the secretive glances you're giving him. 

you might be right. 

so he shrugs and moves to sit down next to you. 

he's been closer, anyway. 

you flip to another page, looking up at him, then down. 

and so it begins. 

you hum as you draw him, and peter taps his fingers on the bench, feeling nervous and uncomfortable, and mostly, hating that he's allowed himself to do this. 

maybe just to keep in your good graces. 

"what classes are you taking?" you ask him after a couple of minutes go by. 

"what?" 

"last week," you say, head tilting. erasing something on the paper. you've tilted it up on your knees, leaning against the arm of the bench, so peter can't see. "you were studying. that textbook looked horrible." 

peter lets his lip perk up. 

"what were you studying for?" 

"a chemistry midterm." 

you look at him, eyes just a bit tired. "you're into science?" you ask, almost doubtful. 

peter crosses his arms. 

"i mean, no offense or anything--" you smile as you say it. "--but i would've picked you for a music major. or business." 

peter understands the implication. he doesn't say anything. 

"gym major?" you ask, stealing a glance at his arms, laughing to yourself. 

"what about you?" he asks, suddenly leaning forward. "i didn't realize there were classes on how to manipulate someone." 

"that's called law," you respond, dryly. "and i'm an art major." 

peter is sure you can feel his raised brow. 

you roll your eyes, sighing as you relent. "fine. undecided. but i'm figuring it out." 

you smile again like you know something he doesn't. 

another minute passes, peter listening to the wind and your pencil as you scribble against the page. 

"how long is this going to take?" peter asks, looking up, wondering how long he's been here. 

"you can't rush art." 

"i can when it's annoying me." 

you don't look at him, but peter watches as you tense. he almost catches himself--the words he's just spoken and accidentally let out--and decides not to say anything. 

maybe you'll forget about it. 

"so," you drawl, after thirty seconds of awkward silence. "you're a chemist." 

"engineer." 

you scoff. "sorry, but that means the same thing to me." 

peter snorts back. 

"how old are you?" you ask him, brow furrowed as you concentrate. 

"i'm not telling you." 

you raise a brow, but don't look at him. "why not?" 

"you'll just add it to the file." 

you don't say anything. 

"the file of things you know about me." 

there's a quirk on your face, the clearing of your throat. "i was serious," you tell him, again. "i'm not going to tell anyone. i respect your privacy." 

peter gives you a dubious look. 

"i respect your anonymity," you revise, giving him a grin. "and if you keep moving your face i'm going to mess up your portrait." 

"are you actually an artist?" peter asks, "or is this a ploy to get unsuspecting strangers to stop?" 

"guess," you say. 

"i'm going with the latter." 

you shrug, not looking at him. "i've been told worse. but i think you're really going to like this."

peter doubts that, but he doesn't say anything. 

and another tens minutes pass--in which you scrutinize everything about the suit he designed, snorting when he argues back--and then you're tearing out a page, smiling at him.

"i mean it," you tell him, "next time i see you i want a smile." 

"i could be smiling right now." 

you stare at him. 

"just give it to me." 

you laugh, putting your notebook in the bag next to you. "just don't look until i'm gone, okay?" 

"you don't want to watch my reaction?" 

"i don't think i need to." 

and peter watches as you put everything else away--pencils and erasers and stick of charcoal. he pauses when he finally notices the headphones you tuck into your bag. 

"you were listening to something before i got here?" 

you just nod, zipping up your bag. 

"what?" 

you look up at him, eyes daring. "guess," you say. 

"kanye?" 

you scoff. "please." 

"miley cyrus?" 

you tilt your head, "i would be more likely to listen to the hannah montana soundtrack." 

"metallica?" 

you nod, lips pursing. "you got it, spider-man. i'm a metal kinda girl." 

peter could've told you that. 

but you're smirking before he can respond, pulling the pencil back out, flipping over the paper, and concealing it with your hand so that he can't see. 

"there," you say, after forty-five seconds of scribbling. "now it's finished." 

you put the pencil away, standing up. 

"i'll see you soon," you say to him, nodding. "and that smile." 

peter snorts. 

and then you're walking away, waving an idle hand goodbye as you turn the corner. peter watches until you're gone, making sure that you're not going to pop back out when he least suspects it, and then he slides over on the bench, finally grabbing the paper. 

he flips it over to find a black-and-white picture of himself, every slope and curve of his suit that he recognizes in the mirror. 

and he knows, for sure, that you lied to him. or he lied to you. 

it wasn't the latter. 

still, somewhat amazed, smiling under his mask, his eyes drift down to the words you've written at the corner of the page. 

you are a call to motion, it says. there, all of you, a verb in perfect view. 

and then another foul "smiley face." peter almost laughs. 

when you move, you've written, i move. 

and your number at the very bottom, scribbled a bit recklessly. 

peter memorizes the numbers before he swings home.  

*

you get the first text three days later. 

your phone vibrates in your pocket as you're waiting in line at a coffee shop, watching the people around you move with creases in their brows. 

your fingers itch for the notebook in your bag. 

and when you read the screen, you're a bit confused. 

a text from an unknown number, and all it says is: 

you lied. 

you frown, thinking of who you might've irritated in the past couple of days. 

it only takes a couple of seconds to recall the boy who you've messed with the most. 

peter and the scowls he's given you. 

you smile, knowing what he means. 

and then you send him the spotify link to enter sandman. 

*

peter rolls his eyes when he gets the message. still, he clicks on the link, plugging his headphones into the jack. 

he walks while he listens, wincing at the words. 

and when it's finished--when peter officially decides that he's finished with you--he sends back another link. 

one to the song you wrote out for him, the song you happened to lie about. 

are you flirting with me? he asks, trying not to let himself regret it. 

or smile as he sees the little bubble at the bottom of the screen, letting him know that you're still there. 

you send an emoji of a spider back and peter's smile fades. 

*

you're laughing as you type, you still owe me a smile. 

you move up in the line, trying not to stumble over the shoes of the person in front of you, scowling when peter sends you a scowl back. 

not literally, of course. but it's been two minutes since he read the text, and he has not answered. 

which, you think, is very rude. 

is that a no? you type out. 

peter merely says: you owe me a song.

so you send him knee socks, by arctic monkeys. 

and you forget what to order when you get up to the counter.

*

peter begins to look for you before he walks around any corner. 

he's avoided that bench, thinking that if he gets too close, too soon, you will get bored. 

that you might've already after you sent him that song and he had nothing good to send you back. 

he's been thinking about it for the past couple of days. 

while he studies, and showers, goes to class, and swings from building to building, staring down at tiny people and thinking that one of them might be you. 

but you haven't shown up. peter thinks maybe you've been hiding out too. 

maybe worried because he hasn't texted back. 

but then he corrects himself; he can't imagine you worried about anything. 

still, he peeks around the corner before he moves, waiting for your cheeky smile and irritating laughter. 

instead, he finds a crowd of people that he doesn't know, and who don't know him. 

not that you do either. 

peter is listening to music as he walks. trying to pretend that there is no correlation between you and this song. 

he moves around the people, keeping his eyes low. he says hello to anyone who says anything to him. he smiles at strangers and reminds himself how to be polite. 

he thinks about how mean he's been to you, and wonders if it just comes naturally. 

and when he gets home, kissing may on the cheek and walking up to his room, happy to finally put down his backpack and all of the books in it, he's still thinking about you. 

thinking about the picture he's put on his wall, and your simple handwriting underneath it. neat and smooth, nothing like he'd expected it to be. 

he's thinking about you as he gets undressed, sliding on his suit and staring at the socks he's left on the floor. 

when you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked. . . 

peter shakes his head, kicking them under his bed. 

but, right before he leaves, he grabs his phone from his bed, angrily clicking on a playlist. 

and then he sends you another link, about a week later. 

and he doesn't have it in him to question it. 

*

you awake from your nap to a text. 

the name at the top of your screen just says "itsy bitsy," because you were a little bit delirious and thought it was hilarious when you put him in your contacts a week and two days ago. 

you almost smile at the notification, and then catch yourself. 

spider-man, peter, has sent you a link to love grows (where my rosemary goes). 

you click on it, smirking as you do so. 

and then two minutes and fifty-four seconds later, you finally text him again. 

are you busy tomorrow?

*

"you're my muse now," you say to him, pointing to a stool. 

you sent peter the directions to an art studio, about three minutes off campus, and told him to come at noon. 

it is 12:23 and you haven't stopped smiling at peter since he walked in. 

"any song suggestions?" you ask him, wide eyes and tilted head and that devious smile that runs goosebumps up his arms. 

peter clears his throat. 

"no," he says. "pick whatever," 

you asked him to pose for you. told him that he owed you at least that, if not some laughter. 

and peter disagreed, but didn't argue. 

and now he's not quite sure why. 

you put on some soft guitar music, going to a shelf in the corner of the room to grab something. 

"how's my bench?" you ask him as you move back over to him and sit on the ground. 

peter frowns. "i don't know." 

you pull out a notebook, scoffing. "you're telling me that you haven't checked it once in the past week?" 

"nope." 

"aren't you supposed to be like the protector of new york city, or whatever?" you blow some hair out of your eyes as you say it. 

"that typically applies to people." 

"except me," you grumble, under your breath. 

peter's lip twitches. 

"what are you doing, again?" he asks. 

"well, i figured since i drew spider-man, the least i can do is also draw peter." 

"you said i was a terrible statue." 

"you are," you laugh at him, "but you've got a nice face." 

peter pretends not to feel it as he flushes. 

"i won't show anyone," you tell him, "if you don't want me to. but it would be nice for my still art class." 

"so you are an artist," peter says, attempting to evade your subtle question. 

"only in my dreams. i'm also taking algebra, economics, and philosophy 101." 

peter frowns. 

"i'll declare next year," you tell him, frowning as you erase something. 

"as an art major?" 

you grin at him, but the peter that's on the paper. "wouldn't you like to know?" 

peter doesn't answer that. 

he watches you as you draw him, peeking an eye on the side of his face every couple of moments, and smiling when you catch him staring at you. 

"what's your last name?" you ask him, breaking the silence. 

another song plays, and peter still doesn't recognize it. 

"parker." 

you snort. "figures." 

his brows furrow. "what does that mean?" 

"of course, you would have a superhero-ey name." 

"what's yours?" 

"y/l/n." 

peter laughs. 

you frown. "what?" 

"of course, you would have an annoying-sounding name." 

you glare at him, but peter doesn't miss the twitch of your lip. "don't copy me, parker." 

"don't make it so easy." 

and you don't say anything back, instead choosing to focus down at the paper, but peter notices the little chuckle that falls from your mouth. the silent sneer in your eyes. 

"what?" he asks after it doesn't go away. 

"i think that was the first time you've actually teased me." 

you don't say the rest of it. and peter doesn't acknowledge how comfortable he feels, sitting on this stool as you stare up at him, watching you as you look back. 

"you can use it," he says, suddenly. 

"what?" 

"the picture. for your class."

you don't say anything, but nod in acknowledgment. 

and peter feels like an idiot as the silence drifts. feels like he shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have agreed to this.

and the song changes again, a soft, melodic sound. 

peter almost smiles. 

"is this opera?" he asks, heavily judging you. 

you grin, dropping your notebook on the ground and standing up. you take a step closer to him, leaning in. 

"shut your mouth and see," you whisper to him. 

peter is almost offended, brows furrowed as he stares at you and how close you are. 

but then someone else echoes the words back, and you begin to dance, holding a hand out to invite him to join. 

peter does, memorizing the slow movement of your hips as he stands up, feeling like his limbs are heavier than they were only four minutes ago. 

and the two of you dance to only angel like no one's watching. 

peter listens to you sing the words under your breath. 

i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine.

*

you are humming to yourself when you get the phone call. 

when your hand stumbles, pencil creating a harsh line over the drawing you've spent the last twenty minutes hating. you scowl at your hand, and then your phone, for interrupting. 

until you see peter's face on the screen. 

the picture you took of the picture you drew of him, scowling at you like he seems to do a lot of. 

you don't smile, but bite your lip as you press the little green button. 

"hello?" 

"hey," peter says, voice soft. he clears his throat. "what're you up to?" his voice is suddenly louder like he's using a microphone. 

you smile, glad that he can't see it. 

"just laughing at this picture of you." 

"from last week?" 

"yup." 

"really?" 

you roll your eyes, hoping he can feel it. "no," you drawl. "i was just working on something new. what's up?" 

"do you like movies?" 

*

after that, peter doesn't have to avoid you. 

he doesn't look for you around any corners, because you've already leaned forward, already allowed him to see your smile and guess what you might be thinking about. 

"hey," you say to him as you match his stride. "how was class?" 

"boring," peter answers, accepting the earbud you hold out to him. 

"of course, it was," you grin at him, "i wasn't there." 

and peter just barely laughs, feeling a bit light when you smile back, face full of some sort of victory. 

you play a song about being cold, and peter completely understands.

*

"i can't believe you got me to agree to this," you say to him as you open the door. 

you're wearing a dress. pretty and flowing and completely surprising peter, if his face says anything. 

"wow," he says, coughing. then clearing his throat. then coughing again. "it's--you look nice." 

you scowl. "i look terrible." 

peter just chuckles, looking down again, then at your eyes like he's forgotten something. 

you just glare at him, waiting for him to tell you that you don't have to come. 

but peter holds his hand out to you. "ready?" he asks. 

"no. because i'm not going." you try and close the door in his face. 

peter pushes it back, just smiling softly at you. 

finally, you understand why he's been so irritated and cruel to you. if your smile is anything like his, then his reaction is completely rational. 

"it'll be fine," peter coos, reaching a hand out to comfortingly--and condescendingly--rub your shoulder. 

"it's a banquet," you say, just barely getting the words out. "for science." 

"it's a party for engineering majors. i invited you a week ago and you didn't say anything--" 

"all of your teachers will be there," you correct him, staring daggers. "if there are adults there, then it's not a party. and you made it sound fun." 

"we're adults." 

"i'm an adult, peter. you are a child. you are childish for tricking me into this." 

"tricking you?" peter laughs, eyes gleaming. "i don't remember that part of the conversation." 

you, suddenly, smile sweetly at him. "i don't know if you've heard," you whisper, smoothly, "but this is going to be terrible." 

he grabs your hand, rolling his eyes. "it'll be boring, maybe, but not terrible. i'll stay with you the whole time." 

you frown. then say again, in the same, all-knowing tone, "i don't know if you knew this about me, peter parker, but i'm terrible at boring. or being serious. or talking to people." 

"you talk to me just fine--" 

"as soon as anyone says anything i'll start laughing. it's a nervous reaction, i can't control it." 

"i'll put a hand over your mouth." 

"that's a violation of my boundaries." 

peter snorts, "look, not that i'm not enjoying this--" 

you pinch his arm, shaking your hand out of his. 

"--but we're going to be late. we can talk about your chortling on the way there--" 

"chortling?!" 

"witch cackle, guffaw, whatever," peter corrects. 

"you are not making me want to go with you." 

"c'mon," peter whines, catching your hand again. "you're my plus one. everyone will think i'm a loser if i show up without you." 

"they already think that," you hiss at him, moving back again. "and anyway, i can't walk in these." 

you gesture down to the heels you dug out of your closet. 

it took you two hours to get ready, simply because you were stressed out enough to absolutely ruin every outfit you put on. 

"i'll die, peter," you say, staring at him desperately. "die." 

he raises a brow. "you can put on different shoes." 

"you're a man." you wave a hand, scoffing at him. "what do you know about fashion?" 

peter shakes his head. "okay, if your feet get sore, i'll carry you." 

you stare at him blankly. "i highly doubt that, noodle arms." 

the smile that appears on your face is one of satisfaction. 

but peter rolls his eyes and doesn't bother to correct you. 

"look," he says, pulling his phone out. "i brought my phone so we can listen to music. i'll let you pick." 

you look away from his eyes to the strand between his fingers. then back to him. "you promise?" 

"sure," peter says, almost snorting. "and anyway, i heard that there might be karaoke and you know that--" 

as soon as he says the words, you're turning around, grabbing your purse from the table by your door, and locking it. you shut it, reaching for peter's hand. 

"alright," you smile, easily. "let's go." 

peter laughs as you begin to drag him along. 

you sing along to sexy silk while you walk with him, just to keep the smile on his face. 

*

"hey," you say to him as you pick up the camera on his desk. "you didn't tell me about this." 

peter looks over, noting your frown and the furrow between your brows. he's sitting on your bed while you canvas his room, making fun of everything he's got in there. 

not to mention the way you almost died of laughter when you saw your drawing on his wall, telling him that he's a dirty little liar, then smiling a secretive smile at it. 

not that peter noticed.

still, he sits up, watching as you click on some button. 

"there are lots of things i don't tell you about," he says, smoothly, and smiles at you. 

your scowl grows. "you've got a camera?" you ask. 

and then, after peter doesn't bother answering that and another moment passes, your jaw drops. 

"you've taken pictures of me?" you demand, pointing to a moment he got a week ago, minutes before he met you for lunch. 

"that's not you," peter lies, and goes to take it from your hands.

but you pull away. 

"when did you do this?" 

peter hesitates for a moment, but he sees the look on your face. "last week." 

"why didn't i notice?" 

peter smiles. "because you are particularly unobservant." 

you glare. 

". . . and because i was about twenty feet away, and ten minutes early." 

"peter," you complain and whine. "why wouldn't you tell me about this?" 

"didn't want to steal your thing." 

"i don't have a camera." 

he shakes his head. "no, art, or something." 

"you're lying," you say, peering at him. "that's your lying face." 

he holds a hand to his chest, mock offended. 

but you don't say anything as you put the camera back on his desk, frowning at the window and avoiding his eyes. 

peter watches for a moment, at the pout on your face and how soft and smooth your skin looks. 

he thinks about you dancing and almost forgets that you're mad at him. 

"hey," he whispers to you, hand reaching out. "i'm sorry i didn't tell you. i didn't realize that you'd want to know." 

"of course, i want to know," you mumble. peter thinks you might be saying something else.

"well, now you do." 

"i also know about your ninja turtle underwear," you say, with a hint of a smile on your face. 

"yeah," peter says, standing up. "and you can hold it against me forever. i won't even complain." 

you look over at him, raising your brows. "really?" 

"mhmm." 

and then you purse your lips, pretending to consider it. "okay, i guess," you say, as a means to forgive him. 

and peter is glad about that. glad when you walk over to him, pushing his shoulder. 

"but don't do that again," you tell him, almost as a threat. 

"do what?" 

"keep a secret from me." 

peter almost winces, but decides to smile instead. "you already know all of them," he says, simply. 

and you smile back. 

he doesn't quite let himself believe that it's a lie. doesn't think about you being mad, or what you might do if you found out. 

he just sighs, reaching over you to pick up the camera. 

"do you want to see more pictures?" he asks you. 

and then delights in the eager way you nod back. 

*

you are humming along to the song playing from peter's phone as you doodle on the piece of paper in front of you. 

you don't know the name, but peter's played it often enough that you know the words. 

and, coincidentally, he's laying his head in your lap--claiming a headache--as you play with his hair. 

he is almost distracting you as you attempt to draw a pretty little spider on his bedside table. 

peter hums back, but it's not to the song. 

"what?" you ask him, pausing your hand. 

peter reaches up, moving it for you, and you snort. 

"okay, okay," you say to him, and scratch his scalp some more. 

"are you ruining my table?" 

"no more than you already have." 

peter groans, but doesn't bother to look up. you know that he knows that you're not drawing anything on it. 

you smile down at him, then get back to the tiny sticky note you found in his drawer. 

the pen you stole from the dining table downstairs. 

you sing to him, to yourself, and minutes pass, and the song changes. 

but you picked this one, and peter doesn't complain. 

"do you feel any better?" you whisper to him, refraining from calling him a big baby. 

"no. keep going," peter grunts. 

you scoff but listen. 

"look," you tell him, holding the drawing in front of his face. "do you like it?" 

"pretty," peter mumbles. 

but he doesn't even open his eyes. 

so you flick him in the nose, raising a brow. "you didn't even look, you idiot." 

"don't be mean to me," peter whines, "i'm in pain." 

"you refuse to take any medicine."

"you're close enough," he whispers, and you try not to feel anything at the words. 

"just one eye," you say to him, pulling at his skin. 

and peter relents, staring at the picture you've drawn for him. "are you trying to be funny?" 

it's a spider, sure, but a very hilarious interpretation of it swinging and falling off a building, and then, a couple of feet away, a picture of it being smooshed. 

you grin. "i think you should put it on your next suit." 

"i'll think about it," peter says, and closes his eyes again. 

you laugh at him and hope he can feel it. 

sing along to the song until peter falls asleep. 

i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave. 

*

when peter wakes up, he's alone. 

he wonders when you disappeared and where you went. he aches for the feeling of your hands in his hair and your smile and laughter as he wakes up. 

it's dark outside though, so peter's glad that you're at home, at least, hopefully sleeping. 

he looks at the clock, frowning at the numbers. 

he sits up, head buzzing and blinking until he can see. 

and then he walks over to the bathroom, figuring that he should probably brush his teeth. 

and when he goes back to his bed, back aching and thinking about you, he notices the sticky note you've put on his wall, right next to the picture you drew of him. 

he smiles at it, glad you put it there, where he probably would've put it anyway. 

and there's another one, right next to your bed. 

you're lame and you fell asleep, it says, don't worry, you didn't drool. 

peter smiles, appreciating your handwriting. he puts it on his wall, right next to the other one. 

and then he texts you. 

when did you leave? 

you answer almost immediately: about an hour ago. 

it's one in the morning, and peter frowns. 

did you walk home alone? 

yup! 

he scowls, immediately dialing you. 

"hello?" you say, singing it. 

peter wonders how you have so much energy, but doesn't give himself the time to dwell on it. 

"you walked home alone?" he asks again. 

"yes, peter." 

"in the dark?" 

you hum. 

he's scowling, wishing you were there so you could see how serious he is. "don't do that," he says. 

"peter," you sigh, snorting a bit. 

"you shouldn't be walking home by yourself." 

"might i remind you that you fell asleep? who else was i going to ask at midnight? may?" 

"you could've woken me up." 

peter hears you laugh. 

"aw," you say, "but, baby, you just looked so peaceful." 

peter almost flinches at the words, because you're not being serious and still-- 

"promise me that you will, next time." 

you laugh again. "okay, peter. i'll uber home next time." 

"you'll wake me up." 

"please," you tell him, "i don't have a death wish." 

*

you are frowning as he sits in front of you, but trying not to. 

you're trying to keep a calm face and a smooth mind and repair peter without him figuring out a single thing about you. 

without getting into another fight with him. 

but he knows you, much better than you'd like. 

"what?" he whispers to you, the words soft on your cheek. 

he's got bruises sprinkled over his abdomen. a bright red cut on his cheek. a black eye and fingers that look more like pens than limbs. 

still, you're trying not to be too rough with him. 

trying to clean these wounds without opening up any others. 

"nothing." 

"you're frowning." 

"you've got a big cut on your face." 

he grabs your hand, stopping your movement as you dab at it. "you're frowning," he repeats, a bit louder. 

you sigh and look away. "peter. . ." 

"you're mad at me?" he asks, tilting your head back to him. 

you're three inches away from him, staring. 

and you don't even need to answer, because it takes one look from you, and peter nods. 

"okay," he says, turning his cheek so you can clean the cut again. 

you do. 

and you listen to his breathing, hearing your own heart pound in your ear, staying silent. 

there's not much you can say to him without wanting to scream. 

"are you going to tell me why?" he asks you, minutes later, when you've had to replace the water so it's not so cold. 

you hum. rub some ointment on the wound, apologizing when peter winces. 

"y/n," he says, tilting his head. he's smiling at you like it might get you to break. 

"you're not taking this seriously," you complain, closing your eyes. you move back, just for peter to move forward. 

"hey," he says, grabbing your hand again. his eyes meet yours. "i'm okay." 

"you're hurt," you argue, frowning, concern piercing your brows. "you had to come here so i could patch you up." 

peter swallows. "i wanted to see you." 

"no," you shake your head at him. "you can barely move that arm. you limped in here." 

"it'll be fine by tomorrow." 

you scoff. "but it's not fine now peter!" you whisper the words, but with enough force that he moves back, his eyes wide and his brow furrowing, as if he's just realized how serious you are. 

"you're really mad?" 

you shake your head, looking away from him. "i'm scared for you, and i'm mad because you don't even care. every time," you say, "you just brush it off. tell me that it'll be fine." 

"because i will," peter swears, trying to catch your eyes. 

"but what if you're not?" you ask him, just whispering the words, your voice breaking. "what if you come here," you look back to him, tears evident. "and i can't do anything to help you?" 

peter starts to say something, tries to brush the liquid away, but you flinch back. 

"no. what if someone else has to move the mask? what if they see you, but you're already--" you stop, not wanting to say the words. 

and before you can blink or breathe, peter has wrapped an arm around you, crushing you to his skin. 

he apologizes and holds you close, breathing slowly as you try to catch your breath. 

he whispers in your ear, rubbing your back. 

"i'm sorry," he says, "i didn't realize." 

and you know that. and you know that this argument isn't quite fair. 

"i promise i'll be careful. i promise, okay?" 

you nod against his neck, breathing him in. 

and a moment passes, and you try to memorize the feeling of being this close to him. 

and then you whisper, "you're my best friend, peter. i don't know what i would do without you." 

and it's only partly a lie. 

"i know," peter says, moving back so that he can look you in the eye. "i know." 

you try and smile at him, and he tries and smiles back. 

"okay," you whisper. 

and then you notice the small wince on peter's face. 

you frown. "what?" 

peter looks down to where your stomach has brushed against the cuts on his and clears his throat. "ouch," he says. 

you meet his eyes and laugh.

*

peter knocks on your door, waiting.

he hasn't seen you in a couple of days, and you haven't been answering the phone. 

he hears someone move around. hears a lurking at the door. 

"y/n?" he calls. "i can hear you." 

but you don't answer. 

so peter knocks again, checking his phone for any sign of you, and staring at the door. 

all he gets is a quick "read" message, and then silence. 

he sighs. 

"c'mon," he calls again. "just open the door, or text me, and i'll leave." 

but you do neither. 

peter scowls. "i'm not gonna go," he tells you. "i'll be out here until you are, and when i freeze to death you're going to feel really bad." 

he might hear a scoff, but the only thing that follows is some silence. 

he says your name again, leaning against the door. 

and then he scrolls on your phone, sending you another text. 

he hears your phone ring on the other side of the door. 

and he can hear you sighing because he's just sent you a link to door. 

there's a moment that passes, where peter is just a bit proud, and then you open the door. 

"that's not even what that song means," you tell him, glowering, but you let him in. 

peter just smiles at you.

*

you're drawing him again. laughing as he teases you and listening to a playlist that he's made for the two of you--promising that it was great and that you'd enjoy it very much. 

this time, though, it's a bit different. 

you haven't asked to draw him since that day when he met you in the studio and finally looked comfortable enough to sit still. you haven't wanted to push that line, again, because you knew that it would be different. 

and that last picture of him, well. . . 

it's not the same as now. not the same as peter is when he's smiling at you. 

when he's singing along to a song that he's chosen and rolling his eyes when you say something, or make fun of him. 

it's not the same, you know, because last time, it was merely some strange sort of attraction to him. some want, or need, or crazy, fantasy thing. 

but now. god. 

now you know peter. now you know what he looks like when he's upset, how he acts when he's scared, or what he cares about, or who he truly is, behind the mask. 

now you're in love with him and trying to hide it. 

unsuccessfully, you're sure. 

"how much longer?" peter asks you, spinning around in your chair as you sit on your bed. 

it's also different because he's in your room, messing with your things. 

"i've already told you, peter, that you can't rush art." 

"you're probably not even drawing me." 

you grin down at the paper. 

peter continues to sing, continues to flip through an old notebook of drawings. 

"you know," you tell him, just glancing up to meet his brown eyes. "i don't like this song very much." 

peter raises a brow. "really?" 

you nod, pursing your lips. 

and so he sings even louder. 

"a zero, zero," peter says to you, laughing. "now he's a--" 

you throw a pillow at him, smirking. 

peter frowns. "that's going to ruin the drawing." 

"so is your singing," you tell him. "stay still, peter." 

"can i at least see?" he asks. 

"not till i'm done."

and then the song changes, and suddenly, you're grinning at him. 

just like that first day.

*

as soon as peter hears the opening chords, he's cursing himself for putting this song on the playlist. 

for letting himself be manipulated at the thought of your smile, and funny laugh as you danced around to this one the first time. for allowing himself to give in to it. 

because your smile is nothing but evil. 

and suddenly, you're not drawing, but standing up, biting your lip. 

"hey, good lookin'," you croon. moving your hips and your shoulders and smiling at him because you just know. "whatcha got cookin'?" 

peter throws his head back and groans. 

but you're singing along, dancing around him, and whispering the words in his ear. 

"there's soda pop and the dancing's free," you whisper, the goosebumps much more than a physical reaction. 

and, really, peter's trying not to smile as he watches you dance. as he watches your smile ebb and flow and listens to your voice, to your accent as-- 

"--so we can go steady," you gesture at him, smiling sweetly. "how's about saving all your time for me?" 

you are a monster, an absolute devil as you pull peter up, as he goes so willingly, and begins to dance with you. 

his hands around your waist and yours wrapped around his neck and that goddamn smile. 

and your voice, and every single thing that you mean to him. 

"c'mon," you say to him, giggling. "dance." 

and he does. he can't stop. 

then, when the song begins to fade, and you whisper a last "how's about cooking something up with me?" he pulls you down to your bed. 

he's almost breathless and laughing at you as you try to squirm away. 

he's absolutely gone as you still against him, suddenly realizing where you are. 

that he's pulled you so that you're laying right against him. and, peter is three inches away from you, and he can feel your breath against him. 

he can see your smile as it almost fades. 

as you watch his eyes, but falter, and look down. 

down and down and peter's eyes follow. 

he's staring at your lips, and he almost doesn't notice it as he leans in, as your breath hitches. 

and he kisses you. 

finally. finally. 

he pulls you as close as he can get you, hand wrapped around your neck, and at the base of your head, and digging into you, and your hands are on his face, they are still and alive as you grip onto him just as tight as he's got you. 

as you pull him, push and pull his lips, and breathe into his mouth. 

as he finally feels all of you, and thanks god that you're there. 

and when he pulls back, almost disassociating, eyes wide, he's staring at you. 

he's listening to a song in the background but he doesn't know the words. 

he can't think at all, can't breathe with you right there. 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, as he suddenly remembers who you are and what you mean to him. 

but you--you smile at him. you laugh like you can't believe it. 

you look into peter's eyes and you see all of him. 

you shake your head, one hand drifting to your lips like you can feel something new. 

you laugh again. 

"peter," you whisper to him, and he's staring back. "do it again." 

if you were a waiting room, i would never see the doctor. 

*

more of them.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch​ @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff​ @hollandweather​ @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan​ @valvlry​ @imthatcoolmom​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[randomkduck]

Catdow revival au chapter 1: A short chapter where Shadow wakes up and meets Red.

Note: This hops in and out of 3rd and 1st person pov for Shadow, generally whichever was easier to write the part in. Not sure if it’s disorienting, sorry if it is!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Everything felt fuzzy, and numb. Like I was floating in the air but laying down on the floor but dunked into a pool of water but laying with my body pressed in between two people but.... it was a feeling I just couldn't put a real name to but could put too many names to and thinking too hard on it made my head hurt, so I stopped.

I don't really remember what it was like before I was given sentience, but I don't think it felt quite like this.

It didn't help that I picked up bits of sound, and emotion, and sights that just... weren't heard, felt, or seen by me. Like I was glimpsing into someone else's life.

I felt tired and wide awake at the same time. It was exhausting.

It felt like I had done just good enough to not be, I don't know, sent to wherever hylians think bad people go. But did too much bad stuff to go anywhere nice. So now I was just stuck... wherever I was. Probably in Link's shadow.

Being in Link's shadow sucked. It was really boring and ugh.

Until it wasn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow woke up curled in on his side. Body feeling all too heavy and light at the same time, mind feeling fuzzy. He lifted his head, the fuzziness turning into dizziness, and forcing him to lay back down.

He layed there like that for a little while, lifting his head every once and awhile to make sure he was still safe where he was. 

He slowly pieced together part of what was going on. For one, he was alive when he was fairly curtain he shouldn’t be, for two he was in an alley somewhere in… possibly castle town? He hadn’t seen the place much from the skies as he razed it, but he had a vague idea of what it looked like from watching Link through the dark mirror before tricking him into drawing the four sword. And for three; he was currently in the body of a cat.

It wasn’t too weird for him, though it was surprising. He could shapeshift at will, and he was pretty sure that applied to animals as well, though he hadn’t really tried it. This kinda just confirmed he could.

Besides, it would be easier to move around without being spotted or identified by people this way. He could figure out why he was even back in the first place. 

Stretching his limbs and forcing himself up, Shadow took a few tentative steps out of his hiding spot into the rest of the alley.

Only to immediately be met with a very familiar gasp from someone nearby.

He jumped and looked over.

Well shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What? Already?? And Why did it have to be him???

Red looked at me from the bright lights of the city street, eyes shining like he had just spotted the best thing ever.

Oh wait, I'm a cat. Hylians love cats.

Oh no.

I start backing up, hoping I can pretend he didn’t see me, and he’ll get the hint and leave me alone.

No such luck.

Red entered the alley, probably not wanting to scare me off, and crouched down just within eyesight. Extending his hand slowly, there was a sent wafting from it.

“Hey there little guy! I don’t wanna hurt you. Do you want a treat?” He said in a soft tone, smiling like he was speaking to a child. Shadow hated it, but his ears did perk up at the word ‘treat’. 

I could feel my rumble weirdly, kinda like a hylian’s would when hungry, but quieter.

Well that was new.

I mean, what harm was there in a small snack? Besides, it was Red The day he hurt an animal on purpose was the day that pigs flew.

…

Not including Ganon.

Alright fine, I’ll give the treat thing a shot.

~~~~~~~~~

He moved forward slowly, fairly curtain cats don’t just openly trust a person giving them treats. Even if he did know Red pretty well, Red didn’t know that, so why would he act like they’ve been friends forever?

He sniffed at whatever was in Red’s hand. It smelled nice, like a sweet from a bakery. Glancing at his other hand, Red had a basket that he had set down (but still had his hand on) to give Shadow his full attention, and sitting on top was a cinnamon roll with a piece torn off from it.

Huh. How nice of him. It looked like Shadow got the first bite!

He nibbled on the baked good, but noticed Red move his hand away from the basket out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled, though it came out as a low ‘rrrrrrrrrrhh’. 

Red’s and froze, and his hand went back to resting on the basket.

He seemed to be barely containing his excitement that Shadow (or in Red’s point of view, the adorable pretty floofy baby) was giving him the time of day despite clearly not trusting him.

Once the treat was done, Shadow sat down. Not really sure where to go from here.

Now what?

Red turned his rand over so that his knuckles were facing Shadow, and let his hand sit there in the air. He wasn’t really sure what the boy was doing, tilting his head in confusion.

Red made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a choking sound. Shadow looked up at him in confusion and mild concern, what kind of sound was that?

The crimson clad hero’s eyes were wide and bright, his basket hand (right hand) now over his mouth like he was trying to contain that odd sound that had come out of him. He looked like this whole event had made his week.

Eh, what the heck. Shadow did what he saw some cats do and rubbed his face on Red’s still outstretched hand, absolutely revelling in the funny sound of pure joy that escaped the other’s mouth.

“Uh Red, what are you doing?” A voice broke the moment, a voice that he really didn’t want to hear right now, an annoying voice. Blue stood at the entrance of the Alley.

Welp! Treat time with Red is over! Shadow thought as he jumped up and bolted away.

He didn’t at all whatsoever feel even the smidgest feel bad at the sound of disappointment Red made. Though he didn’t really have to as Red turned and chastised Blue for ‘scaring the pretty fluffy cat away when we were in the middle of becoming friends’.

Blue did look like he felt bad, but mostly just looked confused and mildly offended.

It was a funny look on him.

[glade-constellation]

“We’re going to literally spell out why the bad guy is bad, and how to help them, but do nothing about it because they are Bad Guy™️ and bad guys can’t change.”

The current running theme for every single fucking villain in TSAMS. A running theme I viscerally hate with my entire being. I think KC was the only one to escape this, but even then they just killed him off later.

For a show that seems to want to handle sensitive and heavy topics, they sure as hell never handle them well. Listen, if a majority of your audience is young teens, you need to be careful with the story you tell and what might be taken from it. TSAMS is teaching its audience that bad people will never change.

That’s just not true. At all.

Often people who act out do so because of past trauma. Trauma can be healed with time and therapy. Yes, it’s difficult, especially when the person says they don’t want to heal. But you can do it. Did you know that rejecting help can be a subconscious survival tactic? It doesn’t instantly mean that the person wants to be bad, or wants to stay bad. They are simply living in survival mode, and their brain thinks the way they currently act is the only way to survive.

Just because Bloodmoon says they can’t be helped doesn’t mean it’s true. And it definitely doesn’t mean they immediately deserve death. Yes, they have done terrible things, but nearly everything they’ve done has been ordered of them by another person. That, or their coding. The coding may be a harder thing to fix, but listen. Look at your current cast. You can’t tell me Moon and Solar couldn’t work together to fix it. Or Earth couldn’t help them with therapy and they’d eventually turn to killing just animals. There are so many ways Bloodmoon could be helped, but no. Just no. They don’t want to be helped, so we won’t go out of our way to try.

It’s just so unbelievably frustrating that several fans have pointed this out and the show doesn’t seem to care. Bloodmoon has room to be redeemed, even now, but the show doesn’t want that. They seem to be stuck on this idea the Bloodmoon can’t be redeemed.

And it’s not like this is a new theme they’re trying to tell for the story. No, this has been around since Eclipse. Yes, Sun and Moon did try to help Eclipse in the beginning, but help is a strong word. It was more like they tried to bargain with him. No one actually tried to help. And the moment the bargaining didn’t work, they just dubbed him the villain and turned against him. In the end, Eclipse tried to help. It was pretty terribly done, yeah. But he was trying. He even gave up his one piece of power and told Moon he could send him anywhere in the multiverse. But no, the only way out was through death. I get that Eclipse did a lot of terrible things. I get that a large majority of the cast had their own trauma because of Eclipse. But he could have been helped. We have seen moments where he wanted help, but would immediately turn back to his survival tactics. Eclipse was bad, but he didn’t have to die.

Anyways, they already taught the “villains always bad” story with Eclipse. They don’t need to retell it with Bloodmoon. That’s just reusing old parts of the story.

The only reason I don’t bring Ruin up is because Ruin was different from all the others. There wasn’t anything that made him a villain besides the fact that he was a virus. There was no “sad backstory”. He just was evil. That is how you write a villain you want your audience to love but still want to kill off in the end. Ruin was fun to watch, and a great villain, and I wasn’t mad when they got rid of the virus. I was attached but not at the emotional level as I am with Eclipse, KC, and Bloodmoon. He had no backstory to make me want him to live. I love a villain that is enjoyable to watch but don’t mind when they’re gone. That is how you write a good villain you don’t want people to riot about afterwards.

This has just turned into me ranting about storytelling and character analysis, but honestly. TSAMS. Do better. A good portion of your fan base is screaming for a Bloodmoon redemption. Why are you pushing so hard for people to hate them? You’ve already told the plot line you’re currently trying to sell. What is the point of just upsetting your fans?

[ilguna]

lmao finnick and number 29 please 🎉 -🪐

☼ exhaustion (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick tells you to stay home after realizing just how tired you are.

warnings; swearing, death mention.

wc; 1.1

prompt: 29. “You're not up to this, you can barely stand!”

–

If there’s one thing you could go for right now, it would be the best sleep of your life. You think that you’d drain everything you’ve saved up since you won, just so you can sleep for twelve hours straight, and wake up in a warm bed that you don’t want to leave. Preferably, Finnick would be in that same bed, holding onto you.

You can't, though, between the past two and a half days, you’ve only slept for about five hours, total, and that might be an overestimation. You’re not entirely sure, because you’re not keeping track. You don’t have time to.

It’s partially your own fault, you could make a harder effort to get some sleep. You’re afraid of the consequences that will follow. Each time you lay down for thirty minutes, close your eyes, get comfortable—some tragedy inside of the arena happens. It’s not your tributes every time, but that doesn’t matter. 

Whatever they’ve done to the arena this year, they’ve rigged it too well. The mentors can’t sleep, the tributes can’t sleep. You’re not entirely sure how anyone is supposed to go on with a peace of mind, knowing full well that their tributes could die at any moment without notice.

It’s a chain reaction that they’ve set up. One tribute will step into a trap, trigger an animal, make a wrong decision, and everyone else inside of the arena will suffer that exact same pain. 

They’ve started fires that have lit the forest on fire, which caused a stampede of the largest animals, which drove all the food away. That caused the predators left over to turn around and begin hunting tributes instead. Mentors panicked, now there’s too many weapons inside of the arena.

At least one tribute has died every day since the bloodbath, which was five days ago. You think this year they’ve made history, because you’re already down to the final eight, causing another round of interviews by the press. You were hoping that you’d have a few more days before having to appear on screen in front of Panem, praising your tributes for surviving this far.

You’ve seen yourself in the mirror, and it’s horrible. 

This wouldn’t be so hard if you had Finnick with you. And technically you do, he’s here somewhere in the Capitol. Only, he’s been Snow’s errand boy from the second you two stepped onto the train station. You were able to speak to him briefly two days ago between his next client and you coming back to power nap. Apparently, everyone has decided that he’s the hottest victor, yet again, and his schedule is so packed that he barely has time to pee. Much less, come and help you in the betting room.

You’ve tried to feel bad for him, but it takes more effort than you’re willing to give right now. You’re juggling fucking everything, a task that’s hard for even two amazing mentors on a good day. You’ve got your eyes on both tributes, the sponsors, the stylists, the escort, the media, and yourself. You don’t have time for Finnick, which is a first for you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water rain onto your skin. You can already feel yourself growing drowsy, and even though you tell yourself repeatedly to change the water to cold, you sit there, basking it in. It would be so easy to fall asleep in here and ‘accidentally’ forgetting to go do the public statement.

It’s important for one reason: for the collage video in the chance that they win. They’ll insert the clip of you talking about you on the edge of your seat, rallying sponsors, cheering them on. Depending on the act they’ve decided to put on for the Capitol, your reaction to their survival changes.

You’re not entirely sure how you’re supposed to do this half-asleep, but you’ll figure it out.

A knock sounds at the bathroom door, your eyes open, suddenly awake as you turn to watch the door open. You see Finnick’s reflection in the mirror and relax, sitting against the wall again.

“Hey, I thought you were busy tonight.” You murmur, yawning.

“Last minute cancellation because of the statements being made, Snow let me have the night off.” He closes the door, leaning up against the bathroom counter while watching you. “Are you doing that tonight or do you want me to do it?”

“No, I got it.” You blink, eyelids heavy. You force your eyes open and to focus on Finnick’s face, which is laced with worry, you think. You can’t really tell, neither do you care at this point. “You go and rest.”

“You know that you have to be there in an hour, right?” He asks.

You shoot upright, “Fuck, how long have I been in here for?”

Your hand slams against the button on the wall that shuts the water off. You get to your feet, almost slipping in the process. Finnick jerks forward, prepared to catch you, but you push his hands aside.

“I don’t know, I just got here.” 

You throw a towel on the floor to dry your feet while you towel down your body. When you move to grab your clothes from off the counter, you slip. Finnick grabs under your arms, steadying you.

He eyes your face, eyebrows drawn in, “Are those bags under your eyes?” He reaches to touch the purple bruising, you move your face away.

“Yes, and I’m fine.” You move to pull on your underwear. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asks.

You let out a nervous laugh, knowing that you’re about to get a lecture from him if you answer that question. Finnick deadpans, because he’s heard that exact tone before when you’ve admitted to unhealthy behaviors in the past.

“(Y/n).”

“I don’t have time to sleep, babe.” You tell him, “I barely have time to shower, let alone go do an interview that won’t matter. Sleeping for more than an hour at a time is like winning the Games twice.”

“You should stay here, I don’t mind going.”

You give him a look, “That is not happening.”

When you begin to pull on your black slacks, one leg at a time, you throw yourself off-balance, hopping on one foot. Once again, Finnick reaches for you, and catches you before you hit the floor. 

You sigh.

“You’re not up to this, you can barely stand.” He tells you, moving your hair out of your face, “So you’re going to stay here and get some sleep. I’ve got the interview covered.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, shoulders dropping.

“I am, darling.”

[joesanrio]

They’re here | R.R

Summary: Ever since Nova had the baby, they’ve only gotten a hand full of visits. But now the whole family gets to see the golden baby.

Pairings: Joe Anoa’i {Roman Reigns} x Nova (OC) || Established relationship

Warnings: Uses real names, Baby cries, BabyDaddy!Joe, and that’s all bcs it’s just a big pound of Fluff.

Word count: 1047

Ratings: Fluff | 16+

A/N: I’ve been writing so much new stuff that I keep forgetting abt the two drafts, they'll come out eventually.

Part one: Want to see her? | Fluff

@bakugoumarianawrites (sorry for the wait)

———————————————————

“What did you do to my baby?” I gasp when Joe walks in holding the baby with a small mohawk, “She thinks it’s nice, don’t you Lala! See.” He coos at her making her squeal. All I did was ask him to bathe her, not be a hairstylist. “Mommy!” She reaches out when Joe passes her to me as he goes back to the bathroom to get her lotion.

“You don’t have to lie baby… we both know you had no choice.” I whisper to her before smoothing her curly hair down as she leans her face onto my chest and continues to let out a random babble.

He comes back with her lotion, and I finish getting her dressed for the day. “We are matching, you look cuter though.” I smile as I admire her in her cute outfit that’s the same color scheme as mine.

We were going to a cookout with family and a couple of close friends at Jon and Trinity’s house, “Oh look at my princess!” Joe exclaims as he picks Nalani up from the bed. “Lala!” She points to herself as he nods amused at her little voice.

I leave the room to pack her bag with all her necessities and about three toys. “She has her stuff animal, right?” I shout from the other room down the hall, “No, It’s in the living room.” I heard him reply.

“Alright, everything is ready.” I say as I toss her bag onto my other shoulder and Joe comes down the hall holding the baby. When passing the living room, I stop to grab her plush hello kitty off the couch.

“Don’t be sassy with me Nalani, you know my joke was funny.” Joe chuckles as she looks unamused at her father. She squeals loudly when she sees me with the toy, I hand it to her, and she immediately hugs it while Joe sets the alarm.

[Jon and Trin’s House 3:45pm]

“Is that Lala!” Trinity exclaims when she opens the door revealing the music and chatter of family, before she scoots to the side so we can enter. “It’s been forever since we seen her!” Jon said coming around the corner fixing his hat, before giving us a hug. “Jayla has been asking when y’all would be here, all damn day.” Jon joked, making us laugh.

We all headed to the living room where some older members of the family were at. “Oh, I remember when you were a baby, now you have one of your own!” Joe’s great Aunt smiled as we greeted her, “She’s beautiful. Looks just like Nova.” She winked at me before sitting back down on the couch.

 “Isn’t she so big now!” Trinity said as Joe placed the car seat on the corner of the couch, “Bae! Look at her dimples.” Trin said pointing at Nalani’s cheek. “She is only 7 months old. Tell them you’re still small!” I coo at my baby as she immediately smiles, unbuckling her from the car seat.

Joe and Jon already having their own conversation as I pick her up, “Girl! Your body definitely snapped back huh?” Trinity had me spin for her. “You think so?” I smile as I follow her to the outside patio, “Girl yes, your waist is like whoop while you booty is like boom!” She creates sound effects with her mouth causing me to giggle at her silliness.

After greeting everyone, I was finally able to sit down. “Auntie Nova! I can watch Lala for you?” Jayla requests as she clasps her hands together, “I don’t want you babysitting! You should go have fun.” I smile, but Jayla pouts. “Please! Look- she totally wants to go with me.” She begs as Nalani almost falls out of my arms trying to get to Jayla, “Okay, but whenever you get tired bring her back to me.” I say as we pinkie promise, and I pass her the baby. “We are going to have so much fun!” Jayla smiles before heading back in the house.

“Here…”  Joe says coming up from behind me before sitting down in the empty chair on the side of me, he hands me my favorite drink. “You look gorgeous.” He whispers in my ear with a small smile making my heart flutter, “Thank you.” I kiss his cheek before he goes off engaging in a conversation with the rest of his cousins.

“Where’s the baby?” Trinity asks coming back from the kitchen with a glass of champagne, “With Jayla.” My head tilting towards the house. “Tamina and Mercedes drove together, so they should be here soon.” Trinity mentioned as she looked at the time on her phone. The rest of the girls nodding as we began to talk about random stuff, and how much we missed each other.

--- 8:13pm

“Mommy!” Nalani cried as I tried to calm her down, she was never a big fan of loud noise when she was trying to sleep, but neither was I. “Oh my baby, I know.” I coo at her as she cries along my chest while I bounce her in my arms gently, “What’s wrong?” Joe enters the room concerned as it’s been a while since we first entered.

His eyes quickly fell onto the baby, “Why she crying?” he asked as he grabbed her from my arms delicately. “She’s sleepy but it’s too loud.” I say while looking in her bag for her pacifier, though she seems to be calming down now that she’s in Joe’s arms.

He pats her back gently as he goes to sit down on the bed himself, “See, you’re okay.” He whispers to the now sniffling baby. “Oh, so not fair.” I whisper as I playfully glare at Joe, in return he sticks his tongue out at me before grabbing the pacifier I handed out to him. “Don’t be a hater because she’s a daddy’s girl.” He places the pacifier in her mouth, “Whatever.” I giggle before sitting beside them.

Not even 5 minutes later, she was knocked out on Joe’s chest before he laid her down in the make-shift pillow barrier I created so she doesn’t roll off the bed. “She’s just like you.” Joe whispered as he looked at Nalani with small hearts in his eyes.

Nalani’s Nickname: Lala

[orcinus-veterinarius]

I’ve seen this video circulating recently and was wondering if you had any idea what’s going on and why the orca is doing this. I don’t know much about cetaceans

Hello! Thanks for the ask.

So this gentleman is Nakhod, one of the adult male orcas at Chimelong Spaceship (which is in China, so it would not be even remotely affected by the SWIMS Act promoted in the video’s caption). Let’s preface by saying that since I don’t actually know this animal or the specifics of his care, I can’t come to any hard and fast conclusions from watching a 20 second video.

The Instagram page you linked is using this clip as proof of “mental health issues.” First off, animals can’t be diagnosed with mental health disorders as we understand them, but I think it’s safe to say they’re referring to stereotypies.

This could absolutely be a stereotypy, and I definitely don’t want to diminish that possibility. However, but its very nature, a stereotypy must be repeated. In this 20-second clip, we only see Nakhod smack his head once before swimming off, so this particular incident doesn’t seem overly stereotypical. Personally, I think it’s more likely he’s displaying misdirected aggressive behavior, particularly since he opens his mouth afterward. As for what’s causing him to be so frustrated, it could be he’s annoyed at the guests. But the fact that he very clearly smacks his genital slit against the acrylic really makes me think it may be sexual.

Chimelong is actively breeding its orcas (Nakhod himself has already sired a calf), so we know their whales are not on birth control (at least not all the time). It’s certainly within the realm of possibility that there was a female in estrus that he was either separated from or rebuffed by. From personal experience, male cetaceans tend to get a little crazy when the females are receptive, and that includes aggressive displays. If I had to go with my gut, I think this is sexual behavior. But again, that’s pure speculation on my part.

So, in conclusion, I don’t know for sure what’s going on. He could be developing a stereotypy, or he could be frustrated, sexually or not. It’s not a benign behavior, but it’s also not automatic evidence of extreme distress.

Note: Normal orca vocals sound sad and pathetic. They’re not screaming or wailing, that’s just how they are. Not sure if the video said “sound on” to hear that or the thuds from him banging the acrylic.

Another note: My overall feelings on Chimelong are really complicated. They purchased their whales from wild captures 8-10 years ago, but their current facility is by far the largest and certainly the most enriching orca habitat ever built. They’ve also had a lot of success breeding healthy calves, which indicates they’re at least doing something right. At the same time, the park is outer space themed for some reason, and since I can’t read or speak Mandarin, I have no idea what the educational value of the aquarium section is. But I hope the Chimelong pod does for China what Shamu did for the United States—inspire a passion for orcas.

[cellarspider]

3/30: Meet David

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We return to the movie I want to bite down on with all of my teeth, Prometheus.

This time, we meet a man so bored he has invented new solo sports and started doing his hair like his blorbo, T.E. Lawrence. 

Meet David (Michael Fassbender). He’s implied to be a little over two years old, and he’s been completely alone for the vast majority of his life.

Actually, I lied. The movie first wants to throw another small strain on our suspension of disbelief: David has a VR visor he can use to view the dreams of the human crew in suspended animation. This is technically a plot point, and thus it is delivered with all the grace of this deer.

I cannot emphasize enough how clunky the movie becomes when plot or deliberate character arcs are being communicated through dialog scenes. 

We find out from dream-peeping that Elizabeth Shaw’s father (horror actor Patrick Wilson) was a devout christian of some variety, possibly a missionary, and her mom  died when she was young. She was given a cross necklace, which we see in blurry montage-o-vision before David wanders off.

We see David’s routine: Pick up tiny specks of dust, send out first contact messages and receive no response, perfect the lonely sport of solo bicycle-riding shootout, eat android breakfast and take a Proto-Indo-European language lesson, watch Lawrence of Arabia (1962) while dying his roots, quote the most Definitely Not Suffering line to himself over and over again as he does his hair like Peter O’Toole and wanders the halls, waiting for something to happen. “The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.”

David is going to later profess to have no emotions, but I think that given the chance, he would at least admit his enclosure needs enrichment.

This is one of the strongest scenes in the movie. David is a novel creation of humanity, and he has been left alone, with only the memories and dreams of humans to extrapolate off of. He has been abandoned without thought for his needs, stuffed down into Plato's Cave. We don’t know yet whether the people on the ship see him as a person, but we know they’re thoughtless in how they’ve treated him. He’s bright, he’s inventive, he’s chosen a way he wants to be seen, but he’s seen by no one. 

I’m sure this is going to turn out great for everybody.

And as a side note, while I didn’t know it at the time, David’s language tutor is the actual historical linguist that they employed for the movie, Anil Biltoo. His and Fassbender’s pronunciations were strong enough that even a hobbyist in linguistics could tell that they were really, really trying to get it right. They even reference Schleicher’s fable, the first piece of text anyone ever created from reconstructed Proto-Indo-European. This level of nerdy detail made me excited.

Side note to the side note, Biltoo also has an introductory textbook on Sanskrit you can buy, if you’re a maniac like I am.

This scene kept part of me hopeful for the rest of the movie, because it’s so strong. The “not minding that it hurts” line is a little on the nose, but overall it has the feel of something that could be expanded into an extremely melancholy short film. Or, hell, a Tarkovsky-esque feature film. Moon (2009) could be another point of comparison. In any case, this scene gives you a little space to feel all the quiet suffering of David’s existence. 

But unfortunately for the movie as a whole, this sets David up as the most sympathetic character. I personally had already been drawn in by the promotional “advert” for the David-8 model android (see part 1). Now I was invested in this particular David’s story. The rest of the film didn’t manage to yank back much sympathy for anybody else. 

Because the general vibe I soon picked up from the rest of the crew was that they were absolute hooting jackasses.

⛬

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Sources alt-text facts:

1. https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/how-ron-perlman-nearly-ruined-the-alien-resurrection-basketball-shot/  2. https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0766970/?ref_=ttfc_fc_cl_t50

[lovingaquarius]

My own little astrology observations ;p

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️

this is completely based on my personal experiences and observations do not take what i say literally i am NOT a professional astrologer 🫶

jj and kiara from “outer banks” are the PERFECT example of a leo and aquarius duo and the best thing is rudy is a LEO IN RL and madison is an AQUARIUS 😩 kinda wanna do a separate post on this…

idk if any other gemini moons like watching reaction videos but i love them sm (this may be a gem placement thing overall)

i feel like sag moons favorite tv/movie genre is comedy/adventure. my brother is a gem sun, sag moon and he refuses to watch scary movies, even tho he’s a scorpio rising?? then again he will fall ASLEEP to scary stories on yt??

heavy aqua placements may make you hard to read to people or seem unpredictable

7h moon synastry may make you and your partner feel like you can feel eachothers emotions or know what they’re thinking/going to say

10h lilith ppl need to get used to people talking ab you, rumors being spread about you or just all around peoples perceptions of you being contrary to how you really are.(i have many favorable placements but this one still has its power 😭) what’s helped me is realizing that everyone’s perceptions of you is purely based on their perception of the world and past experiences with people. it’s rarely even ever about you

i don’t know why but i feel like gemini and sag placements are the types to like anime/video games

if leo moons/venus feel like they’re not getting enough attention or validation in their relationship they will find it somewhere else that is not something they can be without

i hate to validate stereotypes but every person i’ve known with taurus placements in big 6 have a passion for food and sleeping.(one of my old friends had a heavy taurus stellium and she was alllways sleeping/falling asleep and would sometimes fall asleep with food in her mouth 😭)

is there such thing as an aries mars with a low labido??

i feel like water placements (especially pisces) are the ones to listen to and really appreciate Lana del rey’s music or like/romanticize the older eras like 50s-90s (i’m a 7h pisces venus and i’m obsessed w the aesthetic of the 70s flower child )

moon mars synastry is so real yall ofc the whole chart matters but if your persons moon sign is your mars or vice versa there’s just a strong attraction, sometimes you dont even understand why.

the leo and aquarius attraction is so true i can point them out in a crowd and everytime i want them 🙄 it’s suspicious at this point 😑

idk if this is a pisces moon thing but i’ve noticed the pisces moons i know always have their comfort movies they rewatch over and over again and never get tired of. (or prefer to watch what they’ve already seen and like) maybe it’s a nostalgia thing?!?

[indigos-stardust]

New Four swords fic- Chapter 1

*I'd appreciate if u read it on a03 because that's where my tag/summary is but if you cant for whatever reason, I have it below this cut* thanks for any boost and comment <3

Roaming packs of monsters, ugh.  Usually, monsters tend to be attracted or even magically appear from places with plenty of darker energy. It could be some cursed and abandoned temple or some pit where someone died horribly. Maybe, there’d just be one huge monster claiming an area and its magical stink would attract a bunch of underlings.

Monsters aren’t exactly pack animals like wolves. They just follow whichever one’s the biggest and act purely based on greed and violence. They’re happy to follow orders as long as they get their cut. Which is usually the promise of fresh flesh. 

The scouts said the monsters were following paths. On a schedule. Almost like they’re planning and guarding. That…isn’t right. Something is definitely up. 

The worst part of it is that a lot of the paths they’re taking seem to be cutting off a random average sized fishing village to the south. Lutelin Village. Yeah, Green can see why they had been specifically called to handle this one.

Whatever they’re going to eventually face, it’ll probably seem like even an experienced knight’s worst nightmare. But they can handle it. After all, they’d handled far more with far less. This time they even have armor! The odds are far more in favor since their… “adventure.” Green can’t help but fidget with his fingers anyways.

He’s probably just out of practice, sure they had helped fight against the general excess of monsters but that was just dealing with monsters sprawled out everywhere. Not a real proper fight with layers to get to the final baddie. His gut flares with a hidden anxiety. 

It’ll be alright though, the others are literally following his back, and as much as it sucks that those villagers are probably having a hard time with travelling due to the monsters- This will be good for them! Well, Green and his uh, other selves, anyways. Besides, why would you possibly want “rest and relaxation” when you can just crush the ugly mug of some monster?

Okay, maybe he is spending too much time with Blue.

Either way they definitely have better odds! They’ll just find each band (two or three?) and take them down, easy peasy. 

Every step is going to take him closer after all, might as well keep his shoulders straight and his eyes on the horizon.  

Soft grass and weeds dance in the foothills, with a chilly autumn air as their partner. As much as the others are way too gripey in the early morning, Green knows getting them up early is definitely the right call! The soft crispness of the morning air energizes him with every breath! Practically music, in his humble opinion. 

Behind him, he can hear another kind of music. A playful punch to the shoulder, a content sigh, and a little laugh. Conversation that starts and pauses, only to start again. In and out, natural and welcoming. They have his back. 

They finally stop at the top of a particularly large hill; this is the spot the scouters said they’d seen the monsters the most. If Green looks to the West, he can see the beginning treeline of a dark and confusing magic-filled Lost Woods. He shudders. From what Vio described about the woods, it definitely doesn’t seem like the ideal spot for a stroll. Compared to their “adventure” and all they’ve experienced, the next few days will be easyyyy. 

They’ve barely settled into their spot when Vio, ever the watchful one, already spots a band of monsters practically marching together. A very large band of very angry looking monsters. Nearly time to fight. A cliffside looms in the distance, with the monsters in between them and it. 

“I’d say, I think we’re dealing with about eight or so stalfoes, two spear moblins, oh you’ve got to be kidding me at least two dozen,” Green squints, “uh, tiny plant things?”

Strange little hobbling plant monsters, with sharp teeth and leaves coming from a single bud supported by two stumpy legs, covered the ground near the other monsters. 

“Tiny plant things?’”

=====

For a place full of nothing but rolling hills, Vio sure is having quite a bit of difficulty finding enough room to fight. It’s ridiculous honestly, he and Green were supposed to take care of the stalfoes by directly fighting against them. Meanwhile, Blue and Red were meant dealing with those pesky small monsters that keep trying to bite their ankles! Or jump into their faces. It’s a bit hard to fight several monsters just taller than you while dealing with a bunch of faces full of teeth trying to lunge at you, afterall.

Not to mention, once they finally get in semi-decent positions the moblins thrust their giant axes right in the middle and scatter everyone all over again! He can hear the annoying squish and splatter of Blue’s hammer smashing into another one. 

Red’s fire rod is great at helping to keep the moblins away, but while you would think it’d be great for its intended purpose of burning those DAMN little plants monsters- All it really does is make all the grass around them catch on fire, not harming the stalfoes, and force them to bolt to a patch of rocks while they’re being chased. Of course, the little abominations climb up the stalfoes to stay safe from the fire. Fighting on the bumpy ground only makes things worse in their favor. He really wishes the darn things would be the ones stumbling and struggling for balance instead of themselves.  

Wait… This is a far rockier area- He can feel the rattling bones hit his shield once more as he grunts to shove it off. They all need to be knocked down. With the bit of distance he looks around, and there . A pile of rocks, leading up to a cliff. The cliff is extremely uneven at the top, but there is just enough clear space for a person at the top! 

Perhaps, possibly, it had been a bit of a.. Risky endeavor. The second there’s the smallest opening, he yells out, “Watch out for a minute!” and bolts to the cliff side. Ignoring Blue’s very p*ssed off , “h-HEY! Where the Hell are you going?!!” and Green’s surprise as he keeps on running. Every thump of his feet pushing off the earth ringing in his ears. Or maybe that’s just his heartbeat.

Just as he’s starting to climb up he can hear the rattling of a stalfoe and feel the bruising pain of those small monsters trying to reach his flesh under the armor. I just need to keep going , he thinks as he finishes pushing himself up and begins scrambling  for a new foothold as he simultaneously tries to shake off the miniature snapping beasts. Good thing his ears are protected by the chainmail underneath his cap. 

The crash and shattering of bones with a string of swears behind him urge him to go even further up. When the battle’s over, Blue is probably going to get him next. He hadn’t sounded particularly pleased about Vio, “DITCHING THEM WITHOUT WARNING LIKE A B****H*SS,” or whatever. Despite his current height bringing him farther from the battle ground, he can practically hear Green shout, “ LANGUAGE!!” in the middle of battle.

Finally, just as he nears the top he manages to shake the last of those damn pests off his leg and let his heaving lungs rest, if only for a second. Right, this needs to be quick. Forcing himself up, still struggling to breathe from the chaotic climb, Vio readies his bow. 

While the experience of fighting various types of monsters, for hours on their own, certainly gave them a lot of skill in adapting to the situation he has to admit—the items they gained, namely his fairy blessed bag of endless arrows, are also a huge plus. Sure, they aren’t as strong as a well crafted bow, but they are endless . In fact, he’d figured out that if he shoots two at once, even if that took a while to master, it’d do the same amount of damage!

He smirks to himself, aiming straight at a stalfoes that is creeping behind Green. With a snap, the stalfoe falls to the ground. The chaos of the battle field, swarming the others with monsters, moving from place to place… it’s familiar; it is a refreshing challenge. Others might’ve balked at the daunting task, but Vio is looking forward to it. It’s time to show off.

With the constant barrage of arrows knocking out stalfoes, allowing Red and Blue more room to work with and giving Green a much needed relief , the numbers begin to thin. He’s even able to start getting hits on the charging moblins, stunning them just long enough for a quick burn or slash on them. There are only a few straggling plant monsters as well. 

It’s wrapping up. Vio observes as the Moblin he shot finally falls to the ground. It is time to regroup. Or it would’ve been. 

He doesn’t know what he feels first. He can’t even think to process it. The tension of every single muscle spasming. Millions of needles endlessly searing into his flesh. From the inside and outside. Little pieces of him, like miniature marbles bursting outward. The shock of the constant repeated force fracturing and fracturing. The burning in his chest, he can’t breathe. 

It’s so, so much, it’s too much. Without a single thought, other than the sensation of indescribable pain, he falls silently down the cliff. Even as his body crashes down onto the unforgiving rocks it still spasms. Red screams before Blue and Green even see what happened.

—--------------------------------

I can’t! No, no, no, no, no, no!!!! Red can’t panic right now, but by Hylia does he want to scream and selfishly look away-

It was horrible, and he saw every second of it. He had stepped back for just a moment, to chug a magic energizing potion. They still had more monsters to fight, after all, and his magic stores were nearly drained from using the rod so much. But then he saw a spark to his right, all the way up where Vio had gone. A sparkling, bright white yellow light, blasting into Vio’s back. Now, he watches.  

Vio looks like he’s choking, like every single bit of him was choking and dying . His piercing scream is silently cut off, and then he falls . He falls and falls until his back hits the rocks and he goes stumbling down, blood splattering against the rocks. Red doesn’t want to know where it’s all coming from. And then Vio is there, sprawled on the ground, a horrible finale. He’s still screaming. 

No, no Vio isn’t the one who’s screaming. He can see his bloody face against the dirt. Red is. 

Blue grabs his arm, nearly shaking him as he tells him to LOOK before he runs off to Vio. Red’s shaking, then he follows Green’s startled eyes they lead back to the top of the cliff. He can only stare as a hulking Darknut trudges behind a row of stubby moblin archers, and even more stalfoes that have already begun jumping off to attack them. Oh, and a bunch of tektites. Because, well, why not at this point?

 Red usually tries to stay optimistic, because you can’t get anything done if you always have a bad attitude all the time for no reason but- Honestly? He’s pretty sure he hates EVERYTHING right now. It’s, it’s alright though- They, they’ve got him- Well, well they all would if Vio was down. But, it isn’t the time to focus on that, they have to keep them away from Vio and defeat them! 

Just because he’s terrified that Vio could be dying this very second, doesn’t mean he can just start crying when they need him! He will go on, and he will be hopeful! Because Green and Blue need him, and they trust him to at least support them! Red refuses to let them down. Even if he really wants to go cry in a hole right now. 

Green screams at Blue, “ DON’T MOVE HIM! We need to get them away from him, Red get here and create a blast! Cut them off!”

Red’s already sprinting. Blue’s hammer smashes into another stunned skull from Green’s boomerang. They’re working to get the monsters away from Vio. The second he arrives the entire earth THUDS as the colossal Darknut finally joins the battle. It’s beady eyes, under its helmet land on Red. 

“HEYYYY!!!, come here you, uh, you ugly face!!!” The monster trudges forward, away from Vio and towards him. The Colossal Axe glistens, ready to slice into him in seconds. 

“Yeahh!” Red waves his fire rod, sparkling in the burning sunlight, like a shiny fish in front of a starved beast. “Come here!!!”

The axe whizzes through the air with the speed of a bolt of lightning, ready to spear him into two. Red barely dodges. Before the monstrosity can take an even more petrifying swing, Green’s magical boomerang connects. The powerful thing freezes the beast for a valuable 5 seconds. 

Within those 5 seconds a few things happen. A small series of whistles rings throughout the battle field within seconds, a code that only they know.  During their quest, they had learned that just yelling out to each other with their own plans always ended up poorly. Maybe, they were all just too stubborn in their own plans, but it definitely wasn’t helped by the fact they could barely hear each other at times. Sensitive Hylian ears or not, in the midst of battles words become drowned out easily. 

Green’s message, a mix of quick patterns, order: B-G- Core Threats & Close Combat- R- Long Distance Quick. Blue and Green would take care of the strongest enemies and the ones that required close combat. Red would take care of the archers,as fast as possible so he could provide them aid. He could run and prepare ahead just on instinct before he even processed it. It was a mercy, afterall… Every second in a battle is precious, especially with someone left in total vulnerability. 

Red breathes in, the blins are readying their bows.  Then exhales, a small yet vicious blast of fire spirals forward causing at least two of them to shriek as they desperately try to put themselves out. His shield is already out by the time the other three’s arrows have hit his shield. As much as Red would prefer to shoot more and scorch them while going in and out, that just wasn’t an option. The best way to stop them from shooting far out into the others, was to get in the way before they could do that. 

Red forces his way through with his shield to break their line and immediately his sword lunges straight into the throat of one of those wretched things. He has to take care of the other monsters, but Red let’s himself smile a moment at the sign of the bubbling blood. Good . He hoped that was the one that shot Vio. 

He has to dodge back quickly in the next moment though, despite the moblins having nothing but bows and arrows, that didn’t make them useless in the slightest. While the armor would definitely protect him from slashes it certainly wouldn’t protect him from their nasty claws aiming at his throat and eyes. 

He hacks away at another one that leapt out in front of him before he even got the chance to orient himself. Keep it steady, keep the pace and breathe. Red tries to slash at one of the monster’s belly, but he’s off balance by one of the burnt ones slashing at his leg! I really need to do better!! Red mentally slapped himself, how’d that one even get there? He seriously needed to keep track of everything or else he’d be hit in his blind spot again. Next time may not be so lucky. His free foot crushes the bastard's neck as he blocks more scrabbling claws away with his shield. 

Red is skewering the one that he had shoved off when he sees the two remaining unburnt monsters dashing toward him with arrows in their hands. What the hell? Oh, the arrows were sparkling yellow with the same crackling sound as a bomb about to burst. It was familiar. Vio . 

All three are charging and from the looks of it they’re trying to trap him with two heading up to his sides and the first one straight in front of him. Red charges right back at the right one bashing into it’s skull with his sword and spinning around, sword first, to face the others. It’s BURNING-  

His sword clumsily sliced into an arm, but the arrows- Those arrows, the moment of contact of it against his own sword make his arm convulse in pain as he yells out. Red’s sword is on the ground. The monster, reeling from its own pain, slashes back at him. Thankfully his armor prevents it from truly getting him. It’ll definitely bruise though. The pain threatens to bring him down, but gasping for air with teary eyes he forces his wobbly legs up anyways. Like the lightning wizzrobe- This doesn’t make sense- Oh great fairies please-

Red knows the dangers of magical exhaustion, he’d lived through it several times on their quest. Vio’s words echoed in his mind, “ Take care to not overdo it! Potions may provide a great boost and aid in recovery, but your body still needs time. You’re exhausted… Green was right about how dangerous it is, besides-” and then Vio softly grinned, “ If you’re too tired who’s going to keep us going? We need your laughter, alright?”

He can already feel the aching soreness creeping on the edge of his fingers. He grabs the rod anyways, and this time there’s a blast. Red doesn’t know quite how it’s happening, but the strange arrows seem to make the flames stronger. They topple onto the Earth and the last half-dead burnt straggler has finished crawling its way to him. Red’s sword in his uninjured hand stabs into the beast’s guts with a wet sound. It dies slowly, scraping at his feet desperate to fight until it's inevitable death. Then, just like the others it rapidly deteriorates into a puddle of steaming filth on the ground. 

[topguncortez]

Here Comes the Sun | B. Bradshaw

Bradley Bradshaw Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: there is a reason why children are supposed to outlive their parents. It's so there parents never know a day without the sun. whumpril day 6: bad coping mechanisms.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: death of a child, cancer, grieving parents, tears, bad coping mechanisms, heartbreak.

note: April 6th might be just a normal day for you guys, but its probably the hardest day of the year for me. This fic is 100% self indulgent and for some reason I resonate grief and grieving with Bradley Bradshaw. I wrote this fic based on watching my parents grieve for the loss of a child for years, and then based on my own grief. it's never easy, and it'll never get easier.

That dreaded day came every year, like clockwork. There was a reason parents were supposed to die before their kids. It was so they didn’t have to live with the constant pain and reminder. Their house was quiet, no sounds of giggles or running feet. Everything was clean and tidy, no loose shoes and toys strewn out across the living room floor, or tutus and crayons in the basement. The color had left too, no more bright pinks and yellows, it was all pale grays and beiges. 

Every year they were constantly reminded of what they had. He’d roll over in the morning and see that you were already out of bed, more than likely sitting in your daughter’s room on the floor, staring at the empty bed that was still made and covered in stuffed animals. Even though it had been three years, neither one could find the strength to pack it up, everything still laid in its spot like a frozen time capsule. 

Bradley pushed himself from the bed with a groan, placing his feet on the cold hardwood. He looked over at the family picture that sat on his bedside table, it was one of the last family photo shoots they ever had with her. She looked so fragile, like she could break at any moment. You could tell by looking at her that she was sick, that her body was slowly shutting down, but her bright smile distracted you as she shined in the sun. He picked up the frame and gently ran his finger tips over the glass. It was also probably the last time he had seen you smile. Bradley set the picture frame back down and stood up, stretching his back slightly, and walking over to the window. He wasn’t surprised when he pulled the curtains back to see a gray, cloudy overcast sky. It always seemed to rain on this day. 

He wasn’t surprised to see you sitting at the table in the kitchen facing the large window. Bradley saw the cup of coffee, still hot, sitting next to you on the table. The room felt cold, the gray from outside not helping the feel at all. Bradley walked over to you, and gently touched your shoulder. You jumped slightly and looked over your shoulder, tears evident on your face. 

“Morning, honey,” Bradley said and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes and nodded, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, “What do you want to do today?” 

“I’m not sure,” You said softly. It was your answer every year. You never knew what to do. How does one spend the day their child died? Bradley sighed and patted your shoulder, walking away and going to make them breakfast.

He pulled his phone out of his pajama pants and looked at the various messages left from friends and family. Each one telling him how they are thinking of them today, or how it’s unfair that their little girl was taken from them too early, or how they’ve never forgotten her sweet smile and laughter. 

“Do you want to listen to music?” Bradley asked, trying to fill the silence. 

“No,” You said quickly. Again, like every year, you shot down the idea of music, too afraid that that song will come on. Even on the other 364 days a year, you were scared that song would come whether you were driving home listening to the radio, or playing music from your phone. You hadn’t been able to listen to that song in full since the day they said goodbye forever. 

“We can go visit her later?” Bradley said in more of a question than a statement.

“I don’t know.” 

It was like pulling teeth sometimes to get you to go with him to visit their daughter’s grave. Bradley liked going, he liked sitting in the grass on a blanket with his guitar, and quietly playing to her, like he would’ve if she was still here. He always made sure to take fresh flowers to put in the vase. You didn’t like going. You didn’t like knowing her little girl was buried alone, in the cold dark earth. You knew that her soul wasn’t in the dark earth, that she had left and was dancing among the sun, no longer in pain and suffering. 

You didn’t say anything, but buried your face in your hands and let out a loud sob. Bradley paused what he was doing, and just listened to your soft cries. He knew there was no comforting you on a day like this, no matter how hard he tried. He had learned over the years that you just wanted to be left alone, and that’s what he did. He went about making them breakfast as you sat at the table and cried. These pockets of emotion would happen throughout the day, and it was best to just let them be and let them happen. 

After breakfast, the two of them sat on the couch, choosing to watch a movie to distract them. Bradley noticed that you held onto your daughter’s tattered teddy bear that she had taken everywhere. You held it close to your chest as you cuddled into Bradley, occasionally taking a deep sniff of it. It was amazing that it smelled like their sweet little girl; like lavender and antiseptic from the hospital. Bradley would occasionally get off the couch when the doorbell would ring, someone sending them a memorial flower arrangement or a fruit basket. 

“Do you think she knows what today is?” You asked Bradley softly. 

“I don’t know. . . I would think she probably knows the jist of it. She’s very smart,” He answered, “I like to think that she had people waiting for her when she got there.” 

You nodded and looked down at the teddy bear with the ripped ear, “I bet my grandma was there. . .or my uncle. Or the dog I had in elementary school.” 

Bradley smiled, “I know my parents were there waiting for her. I bet they had spent the whole time watching and talking to her, letting her know it was all gonna be alright.” 

He swore that in those final weeks he had gotten more signs from Heaven than he had in the past ten years. His parents visited him in a dream the night before their daughter passed, both of them standing in the sun and smiling at Bradley, telling him that he had done all he could do and they would take it from here. Little did Bradley know until a couple weeks later, that you had the same dream that night as well. 

“I hope they’ve been nice to her,” You said, your voice breaking. Bradley sniffled and held you close, rubbing your back as you cried, “Cause I know she’s being nice to everyone, and smiling at them and complimenting their eyes. God, she was always talking about people’s eyes.” 

Bradley nodded and let his own tears fall freely. They sat in silence as they cried on the couch, letting the movie playout. The sounds of rain pelting the roof and windows slowly pulled them to sleep as they both fell into a nap, holding each other, the teddy bear placed in between them. 

When they awoke, they noticed the rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still gray. A shiver ran down your body as you looked out the back kitchen window at the tire swing that still swung from the tree. Memories of the summer Bradley had put it up in the tree filled your mind. You had been terrified that something would happen, like the branch would break and your sweet baby would get hurt. How ironic that it wasn’t the swing that hurt her. 

Bradley was putting his shoes on when the soft sound of your footfalls filled his ears. He had the bouquet of fresh sunflowers to go in the vase at the cemetery, Sarah Kazansky had dropped them earlier, picking them right from her garden. He smiled softly at you, and you sucked in a deep breath. 

“I. . . I need to go with you,” You said and Bradley stood up from the stair he was sitting on. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw the painted names of your child and husband. 

“Are you sure? Cause you don’t have to. I can go alone, it’s fine, I promise,” Bradley said, gently holding your face in his hands. You nodded as tears brimmed your eyes again. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly in his embrace. You laid your head against his heart, listening to the soft thudding of it. He placed his chin on top of your head and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. 

He made the first move, and gently sat you down on the step with your daughter’s name painted on it. You had been the one to paint the names on the wood. Your daughter and Bradley always sat on the step and waited for you to come home from work. Her expression every time you’d walk through the door was as if she hadn’t seen you in years. You surprised Bradley with the small gift after he came home from one of his last deployments before she took a turn for the worst. 

Bradley helped put shoes on your feet and then kept his hand in yours as you walked to the Bronco. He had gotten rid of his truck almost immediately after your daughter’s death. He had only bought the Ford F-150 because it was more suitable as a family car than his father’s hand-me-down Bronco. Bradley couldn’t stand seeing the truck in the driveway, knowing he wasn’t going to hear soft giggles from the back seat or feel gentle kicks against his seat as he drove her to daycare in the morning. 

The drive to the cemetery was silent, as you watched the scenery pass by. It was almost the same route that you took on the day of her funeral. You drove by the small church that she was obsessed with. You and Bradley thought it was silly that a little girl was so obsessed with an old white chapel with beautiful stained glass, but it made more sense after she died. The cemetery grass was plush green and looked soft. Shades of gray and black filled your vision as Bradley slowed down on a small path right off the main road. He put the Bronco in park and sat back in his seat, turning his head towards you. He felt his heart break as silent tears ran down your face. 

“Oh honey,” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He hated making things worse for you. He hated seeing you cry. If there was anything he could do to switch places with his little girl, he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant never seeing you cry again, “We can leave-” 

“No,” You whispered, “She needs us both here.” 

Bradley brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it. He got out of the driver’s side and quickly jogged to your side, opening the door and grabbing your hand. The earth was still wet from the constant rain of the day, as they walked in the wet grass up to the black head stone. You picked up your long sundress a bit so the bottom wouldn’t get completely drenched. It was a sundress that Carole had made for you before she died, and you wore it to both Carole and her daughter’s funeral. You let out a shaky breath as they stopped in front of the beautiful black stone, with their daughter’s name engraved in gray writing. 

‘Viola Caroline Bradshaw. 

February 12th 2016- April 6th 2021’ 

You ran your hands over the engraving as Bradley placed the small vase of flowers in front of her headstone. The smiling engraved picture of their daughter looking back at them. The picture captured almost everything about Viola, even her bright brown eyes and smile. It was almost like it was real, like they could reach out and touch her. 

“Hi, babygirl,” You whispered, “Sorry I haven’t been here. . . I promise I’ll come back. I promise you.” You pressed your lips to the cold stone, and then stood up to stand by your husband. 

Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist, and you laid your head on his chest. The scene was like one from years ago as they stood in front of the stone. The sky is gray with heavy rain clouds. A brush of wind blew through, making the chimes in the tree they planted ring. You tensed for a moment, and so did Bradley, as the clouds rolled back just for a moment and a ray of sunshine filtered down to the earth. 

You picked your head up from Bradley’s chest, and looked at the bright light as it shone on them, making them feel warm for the first time in years. You gently took a step away from Bradley, almost as if you were getting closer to the sun. He watched you as you closed your eyes, taking in the moment, as the clouds slowly started to roll together, ceasing the sunlight. You opened your eyes, and looked towards the sky, as if their daughter had sent that beam of light to them. Bradley walked towards and placed a kiss on the stone, patting it and then turning to his wife. He grabbed your hand and the two of them walked back to the car, in a little bit better feel than before. 

It wasn’t a happy feeling, it wasn’t an angry feeling, it was a peaceful feeling. They both settled into their seats and Bradley started the car. Both of them froze as they heard the opening chords of that song. Bradley moved quickly, going to change the channel but you stopped him. Bradley looked at you with wide eyes, as you smiled and then looked back at her daughter’s headstone. 

“Thank you, baby.” You whispered to the sky, and Bradley smiled shyly to himself. He turned the song up just a little bit, as he put the car in drive and slowly drove off from her grave. 

The clouds once again rolled back, letting a beam of light shine down on the little girl’s grave, making the engraved quote on the headstone stand out even more than it already did. 

‘Here Comes the Sun. . .’

[britcision]

Not gonna lie, we’ve been watching YuYu Hakusho alongside the release of Delicious In Dungeon and uh

It’s been illuminating

Like on the one hand hoooooooboy you can taste the 90s animation techniques (and the Netflix version is somehow more strobey and seizure bait, and they’ve fucked random chunks of audio?? I have the dvds I can prove they’ve fucked around)

On the other hand… yeah, it really, really highlights what people have already been talking about with the Delicious In Dungeon - the pacing issues, especially with going shot for shot from the manga instead of embracing their own medium

Cuz I will stand by YuYu Hakusho being the best anime version of a manga I’ve ever seen. It’s true to the manga, but keeps up the pacing and fleshes things out by leaning more into the side characters, and particularly our audience surrogates, Koenma and George

The fights all pace well because we cut to the people watching them, so it’s not just repetitive punch punch punch shots (although we do get those)

Whereas this week’s episode of DunMeshi in particular…. Really suffered from skewed pacing on that fight

They had way too much time just standing around talking, both with the harpies and in between Falin’s attacks, and I’d bet even an anime-only fan could pick out which shots were literal panels in the anime because nothing moved to flow between them

Those shots of the separated groups especially; this is anime, not manga. Those people could have been moving, interacting, doing things instead of panning over a still

I get that it takes more time and money but this was a really significant fight and it does make me worry a little for season 2, because the red dragon fight also had some pacing problems (although to a much lesser degree) and season 2 is when the combat pops off

I really do appreciate them wanting to do a faithful interpretation of the manga and sticking close to Ryoko Kui’s vision, but anime is its own medium and by sticking too closely they’re not taking full advantage of that medium

You have more time to fill in an animated episode vs a manga chapter because your characters literally move and flow, and three panels of action happen in a second

They’ve been folding two or three chapters into each episode, but this week’s especially (ep 17) really played too close to that two chapter timeline, instead of taking out the important story beats and the time to fill and working out how to pace around that instead

(Funnily enough though, they actually nailed the exact same kinda pacing issue in the exact same episode for the Laios and Shuro fight; that one was fucking great, it was clear that action was ongoing even while we focused on other people, and it had good weight and emphasis despite being largely offscreen, just like the harpy fight should have been

I. Guess. They coulda put more work into that than the Falin fight? Cuz it’s a huge character moment but for fuck’s sake Chimera!Falin SHOULD be the bigger one! We the audience got hints but this was the REVEAL)

Honestly just… the 1000% disinterest in the harpy fight was jarring, and it leading immediately into the Falin fight that was basically stop motion without the time lapse didn’t help

Cutting to Marcille and Shuro on the shirt tear was fucking great though, chef’s kiss, someone out there is still watching over us, I just hope they work out a happy medium soon

I get that there’s lots of iconic and fantastic panels in the manga, I made a complete summary of every single chapter, but the anime shouldn’t be showing them as stills

The characters should be moving in between them, not snapping from one face to the next like a slide show

In a perfect world I’d also love some more little character asides and things a la YYH, but there just isn’t the same easy audience characters to cut to

But but but

Thistle reacting a la Koenma to some snippets of the bullshit in his dungeon would give me fucking LIFE he can’t be watching all the time for obvious plot reasons but I want him to find a veggie golem

I want him to see the kraken and find some leftovers and be searching for Delgal and plotting their dinner and wondering why he can smell something delicious and what is it and can he make that

Move the background stuff that got cut from the Tances’ episodes, cut to Namari and the twins hanging out and talking about leg guards, there’s SO MUCH supplemental material

It might be less one for one to the manga but it’d stop the weird dragging out and give us something more, something extra to appreciate the anime on its own merits

It’s nice to have an anime experience that is very close to reading the manga, but it’s something really special to have the anime shine and add to the experience on its own

Anyway next week is the shapeshifter and I’m so hype for that and wondering if they are gonna include just a smidge of meta knowledge since Kui did tell us whose impersonations are whose 👀

[baileypie-writes]

~My Thoughts on Wonderful Pretty Cure: Episodes 31-35~

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Episode 31 - Nyanfluencer Mayu:

This episode was really sweet!

I feel like Mayu’s backstory about her friend kind of came out of nowhere in previous episodes. However, it makes me feel better about it now that they’ve talked more about it.

Chiran is very similar to Mayu. Almost to the point where’s there’s no difference between them. So I wish they added more traits to her. But she was okay! I really liked her chinchilla too.

It was very sweet when they both apologized to each other, and finally made up. I also loved how Yuki was watching the whole time. She really cares about Mayu a lot.

Also, we finally got more content of babygirl Zakuro! She’s so beautiful and sassy. That’s pretty much my type when it comes to Precure villains.

My Rating for This Episode:

6/10 - D-

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Episode 32 - Favorite Animal at the Zoo:

When I tell you I squealed when I saw Sora on screen, I’m not joking.

My babies are back! I was so happy! I wanted to cry when I saw Tsubasa. I missed that boy so much! We also got a short shot of the Witchy girls. I’m a bit disappointed that we didn’t get any dialogue, but whatever.

We got even more Zakuro, so I’m happy. You can probably tell she’s my favorite villain.

Lastly, I was pretty disappointed that none of the other Pretty Cure helped out the Wonderful team in battle. I was really hoping they would. But what can you do? I’m still happy we got to see them!

My Rating for This Episode:

7/10 - C-

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Episode 33 - Full Animal Smile

I don’t have much to say about this episode at all.

It’s just more filler. But I did enjoy seeing more of Iroha’s hot dad- I MEAN-

But yeah. That’s all I have to say.

My Rating for This Episode:

2/10 - F

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Episode 34 - Cat, Cat, Cat Meeting:

This was a nice, Yuki focused episode!

I feel like she definitely feels some jealousy when it comes to Mayu’s dad. Which, by the way, why is everyone’s dad’s so hot in this anime? Lemme see Satoru’s dad next…

The cat meeting was super cute. I’ve never seen one in real life. I don’t live in an area with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. But I wish I could see one! I think Yuki’s definitely gonna keep participating from now on.

I enjoyed seeing Zakuro interact with the cats. Or, try to. It shows that she’s not all cruel, and that she really does care for all animals. Too bad they did not like her back though.

Lastly, I just wanna know who on Earth came up with the idea for the Kirarin Fox’s power? I can’t take it seriously at all. I mean, I just watched a giant cat toy with Cure Nyammy’s face on it for like two whole minutes.

My Rating for This Episode:

8/10 - B-

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Episode 35 - Operation: Satoru’s Love Confession

I was so excited for this episode. But it didn’t exactly play out how I wanted.

I fully expected that Satoru and Iroha wouldn’t get together in this episode. I didn’t even expect for the confession to happen at all. And it almost didn’t! Thanks for the save Mey Mey!

To be honest, I’m hoping for Satoru and Iroha to get together more than I’m hoping for Satoru to become a Cure. That probably sounds crazy. But we already got our first boy Cure. I want a canon, healthy relationship with no weird age gap! And Satoru and Iroha would look so cute together!

I’m both excited and scared for next episode. I’m glad they’re not gonna brush this under the rug, and that it’s going to be the focus of the episode. But it’s not clear how Iroha feels. She looks worried or confused. I just hope everything will turn out okay!

My Rating for This Episode:

8/10 - B-

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Overall Score for These Episodes:

62% - D-

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~~baileypie-writes