#but still! its not like they REALLY got to do much of anything!!!

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn’t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[deathbxnny]

May I request some headcanons about Victor, selika, Vander and Vi about caring and being with a S/O with ADHD.

Please and thank you

Arcane characters with an s/o that has ADHD. | Viktor, Sevika, Vander and Vi

Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: No spoilers for season 2, season 1 Viktor, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He was the first to notice and accommodate to your ADHD, mainly as he knew what it's like to live with something that makes life a little harder in general.

Viktor is very patient and gentle with you when you're having a hard time focusing on tasks or are procrastinating on projects. He understands it just fine and works with you to find strategies that make everything a bit easier. Whether it's studying with you or helping you out on research papers, you both spend a lot of time together, to say the least.

You two enjoy working on your own things in eachothers presence, as it helps you get over your lack of motivation and gives you a chance to talk his ear off freely. Thankfully, he's good at multitasking when it comes to you. Some may think your talking is excessive, but he finds it cute.

Whenever you're a bit more fidgety than usual, he'll hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile, yet doesn't stop your body from regulating itself naturally.

Viktor takes your diagnosis as a simple fact, nothing that defines or undermines your ability to be his s/o. If you need a little help, then he's very clearly okay with that.

》SEVIKA

She doesn't initially understand the concept of ADHD and doesn't care much about it either. Sure, she gets that it affects your day to day life, but she was going to help you out with anything either way even without the diagnosis. So, in other words, she's ready to learn and do as you please.

Your fidgety nature was something she definitely had to get used to, as she mistook it as fear or nervousness rather often. This typically meant that she'll ask you if you're alright a lot or if there was someone bothering you. Over time, she learns to look past it and see it as a natural part of you. If you can't sit still, then she'll let you roam around whilst her eyes watch you closely.

Your endless ramblings and deep interests about the most nichest topics also needed some time for her, but what got her the most was your procrastination issues. She did get not want to do things at all, but she would still attempt to make work as fun as possible in her own way. She'll accompany you everywhere and take care of the heavy lifting.

When she said that she was loyal, she was definitely not kidding around. Your ADHD changes nothing about the way she views you, and so she doesn't make a big deal out of it either.

》VANDER

Probably the most patient and understanding of your ADHD and its symptoms by far. He sees them as a part of you in a good way and simply accepts them as they are.

Whenever you procrastinate on chores or work, he'll try and make it more enjoyable by either helping out or promising you a nice treat after. If it's really bad, though, he'll just do things himself to not stress you out about them too much.

He's the same with your lack of focus, although he sometimes does get concerned about you zoning out when things get serious. Vander will still find his own innovative ideas on making you focus when he needs you to.

He loves listening to you talk to him about the most random things possible, mainly as it shows him that you're comfortable enough with the care he gives you. He also just enjoys weighing in with his own opinions about the many various topics you bring forth at rapid speed.

Either way, he skillfully navigates your diagnosis with ease and doesn't ever let you feel like you're burdening him with it.

》VI

Well, she certainly may have outlandish ideas at times when it comes to working with your ADHD, but she definitely at least has the spirit for it!

Your natural fidgeting and inability to stay still gets interpreted in you just needing to power yourself out. This makes you often find yourself in front of a punching bag with an excited Vi telling you to go ahead and let it alllll out. Whether it works or not is up to you, but you appreciate the effort even after you had explain it wasn't that easy.

Vi will make it her mission to help you out on projects or with work whenever the procrastination gets too bad. She'll also help you out with simpler tasks when she can but will otherwise try to make things fun, at least.

You two enjoy rambling away with each other, and it is her favorite thing. You're both bad at focusing on one topic at a time, so your talks can go on for hours, which she loves very much.

Your diagnosis is just a part of you that she very much loves, even when it gets difficult at times. She never wants you to feel left out or liked less because of it and does her best to never let you think that.

[pumpkinnning]

this really does not feel like the kind of statement to throw out there without any sense of context or place. there's definitely sth to be said about how women are taught to live in a constant state of preyhood by overwhelming societal messaging - and yeah it's also people's responsibility to see past that but "self victimization" feels kind of umm. a shitty way to describe it. are you gonna tell minorities who have internalized shitty cliches about themselves they're self victimizing ?

also yeah there are A LOT of places on earth where these kinds of fears are at least a little warranted. personally i grew up in a place where i was sexually harassed very regularly by grown men in the street starting age 10. and not just the whistling and creepy petnames, im talking graphic descriptions. a random guy once told me he was going to put out his cigarette in my eye bc i didn't smile back. when i started going on there was a notorious rapist operating in the same area as the popular clubs. one of my friends got her life completely ruined by a stalker and nobody did anything when he would just hang out in front of her door with a baseball bat for hours every other day. etc etc i could go on for a long time. and yeah sure i didn't actually get physically harmed but that kind of psychological violence takes a toll. and i tried not to let it make me too afraid i still pushed myself to go out and walk in the woods at night and go out alone. but that didn't mean i then turned around and called my friends weak and crazy for being scared. i am older now less vulnerable and i moved to another country and it barely happens anymore and i feel so much freer and safer and that still does not mean im gonna go call women who do experience this shit crazy online

again. absolutely we have to look at the way female victimhood is constructed in a way that plays into racism, classism, transphobia, etc. this kind of post however, which i have been seeing more and more of, does not sound like that. it sounds like misogyny using woke terms, and victim blaming, and "haha if it hasn't happened to me it can't be true and everyone else must be making it up" and "why don't [marginalized group] simply stop whining about their oppression and suck it up and pretend its not happening and everything will be fine. if you're impacted by it it's actually your own fault" and just very very privileged.

i'm sorry the self-victimization of some women i see online is crazyyyyy, they're saying shit like "yeah being a woman is so crazy, if you go on a date you have to text his full name and picture to your friend, and also where you're meeting, and share your location throughout the date, and check in hourly" girl the only safety measure you need is meeting in a populated place. that man is NOT going to kidnap you from Popular Cafe on Well-Frequented Street in broad daylight at 2pm. i promise. do you go forest hiking as a first date or what the fuck.

[celestie0]

hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

[lesbo-tuliplvrr]

slumber party

bestfriend!abby x bestfriend!reader

summary: your best friend abby calls you up for a sleepover after having not spent time together in months.

clingy!abby, friends to lovers, college!abby, college!reader, fem!reader, y/n used once, medicalstudent!abby, fluff, minor angst but mostly it's one sided, no specific descriptions of reader other than them being shorter than abby and having their hair uncovered at night

wc: 3.2k

Abigail anderson. Your best friend since primary school. Your longest friendship. Your longest crush.

You hadn't always had a crush on Abby. Sure you loved her, but only really as a friend. That was, until junior year of highschool when her body had started noticeably changing. She started working out more, her biceps bulging through every tshirt. She had a growth spurt too, now almost towering over you. You yourself weren't that short but her stature made for a quite prominent difference.

You weren't usually shallow, But c'mon. Abby was already one of the best persons in your life; smart, caring, trustworthy. Turns out you only needed that little extra push to transform your platonic admiration for her into something else. This had been going on for 5 years and you had zero intention of ever letting her know.

It would just be way too risky, confessing something like that. What if she wanted to cut you off? What if she was disgusted by your feelings? What if being friends for so long bit you in the ass and she saw you more like a sister?!

And plus, dropping something like that on her when she was already swept up by her studies to become a doctor most of the time, would be horrible. You figured, you just had to let the feelings die. Of course it was taking much longer than expected, going onto the 6th year of having said crush, but it just had to be done.

So when Abby told you her dad would be out of town and that you should sleep over, you found yourself at a crossroads. You could go, and spend time with your best friend and it be a great night. Or you could go and be so incredibly uncomfortable hiding your feelings.

"Come on, we haven't had a slumber party in ages. I feel like we're always so busy we barely have any time for each other anymore. which is crazy for us!" Abby suggested as she spoke to you over the phone.

Yeah, totally not because I've been purposefully distancing myself to get rid of this festering crush.

You responded, "I mean , don't you have studying to do? I'll just distract you."

"Dont worry about me. Plus, you wouldn't distract me, you never do." She replied with her honey-like voice that would never cease to make you melt.

"We both know that's a lie but sure." You gave in. It was your best friend. Plus you really hadn't had time together in the past few months.

It was just a sleepover with Abby. All you had to do was act normal and it'd be fine. It's just Abby.

Abby answered the door when you arrived, immediately pulling you in a for a hug, stating how much she missed you and how long its been since you properly hung out, just the two of you.

"This place hasn't changed at all." you say, looking around at the familiar picture frames of her and her dad still plastered in their same spots on the walls.

"Yeah, we're both pretty busy all the time so," she trailed off. "You want anything to drink?" she asked, grabbing your overnight bag from you and heading to place it in her room.

"Nah, but I'll help myself, it's fine." you respond, following her into her room.

Her room has seen a few minor changes, none of which younwerent aware of though. It might have been years since you actually set foot into her bedroom, but you still saw it regularly. During your as frequent as possible facetime calls, you got to see through her camera the little changes she'd make to her walls. Even got to help in the decision process sometimes.

"It's been a while since you've been in here huh?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, eyeing you as you peered at all her stuff.

"Yeah, cant believe how long it's been." you replied, distracted by the sheer amount of personality visible on her walls and desk.

Her college textbooks neatly tucked away on the side of her desk in a stack, near her pencil holder that held various shades of highlighters and pens. There were multiple pictures on the wall directly above her desk, along with many post it's of medical terms. Most of them were of her and her dad, or of her dog froma. few years ago, Alice. But right in the middle there were two of you and her. One from when you were much younger, closer to the time you first became friends and the other from your highschool graduation.

You made a mental note to take more pictures with her once you overcame your crush.

You looked around for a moment more, realising there was no mattress or anything on the ground. Sure, you slept on the same bed together before but that was when you were kids. Years ago.

"Soooo should I sleep on the couch or the ground?" you asked jokingly, secretly hoping she'd actually have an answer.

She laughed, "Oh come on, it might've been some time but we're not strangers." she joked with her beautiful smile.

Fuck.

You chuckled at this, hoping it seemed genuine and didn't expose the fear you felt of being so close to her for so long. Abby, however, noticed your shift in energy. Choosing not to say anything, she promptly changed the subject.

"Alright, what's for dinner?" she got up from the bed and led you both back out to the living room. Grabbing the TV remote, she put on one of her rnb playlists. "I was thinking we could cook something, chat and catch up for a bit then maybe watch a movie or something."

Gosh, she'd really thought this through. "Abby I hope that you don't have outstanding assignments due while you're doing all of this," you scolded her, already getting back into the groove of things.

She sighed, "Uugggghhh no, mom. I'll have you know that I am actually very ahead of my assignments. And even if I were behind, I'd still wanna be hanging with you tonight."

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow as she came around your frame to hug you from behind. You forgot how physically affectionate she was, and how much you missed it. You tried to not lean into it too much. The last thing you needed right now was to give yourself any false hope.

"I just- I really need this right now," she said with a sigh that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, dropping her head on your shoulder. You were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings that you hadn't even stopped to think about how stressful school and everything must be for her. You turned your head slightly towards her, faces mere inches away from each other.

"I really need this right now and you're so fucking tense that I can't even give you a proper hug!" she stated, attacking you with tickles.

You screamed in laughter as she jammed her fingers into your sides, not giving up her mission to make you laugh. You tried running away but her grip on you was too strong, as expected of abby. Your attempts, however, did lead you to toppling over the couch, with her on top of you. She continued tickling you as you laughed, both smiling wide.

Through squeals and breaths you tried to reason it her, "Okay! Okay stop."

"There she is," she smiled, finally halting the tickles. You looked up at her, trying so very hard not to grab her by the collar and kiss her stupid.

She sat up, straddling your hips as you still lay on the couch, breathing heavily. You raised your head slightly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Gathering her breath, she started, "Okay. Now tell me, what's going on with you?" she asked, pushing her flyaways behind her ears.

Confused you asked, "Me?"

"Mhmm, you've been all distant and weird around me for quite some time." she supplied, hands resting on her thighs. her big, muscular thighs. snap out of it!

Shit, she noticed. "I-" you didn't know how to respond.

Worry evident on her face she continued, "Did I do something? Because if I did you gotta let me know, i- I've been so focused on school and-"

"No! no, n- it's not anything you've done. don't worry" you answered, "I guess I've just been feeling a bit...." you pulled something out your ass quickly, "lonely, lately."

Not entirely wrong. It was gonna have to work.

"I'm sorry." she replied, empathy clear on her face as she leaned forward to hold your arms. "But hey, I guess this came at the perfect time then huh? You won't be lonely tonight, I'll make sure of it. 'kay? Now let's go make something and you have to tell me everything that's been going on with you." she pat your thighs before coming off. Her weight would be a missed presence on your lap.

The music played at a comfortable volume as you two easily maneuver around the kitchen, cooking up a simple pasta dish. You talked about anything and everything, fully catching each other up on what the other had missed in their lives. In all your attempts at dodging her and keeping your distance, you'd forgotten why you two were best friends in the first place.

Abby was easy to talk to. She always knew how to cheer you up and how to comfort you. As did you to her. When you would hang out, there was always fun to ensue. Which is exactly why you fell in love with her. But as you were here, having chopped and prepared all the other ingredients and awaiting the water to boil, dancing and laughing around the kitchen hand in hand with Abby, you decided that just for tonight you could forget the complications that having a crush on Abby would cause and just lean into your best friend whom you missed so much.

When the meal was done, you both retreated to the couch where you sat closely next to each other in search of a movie to watch.

"I feel like nothing looks good," Abby stated, as she kept scrolling through the site.

"We could always hate watch something?" you suggested cheekliy, knowing that Abby was already not a big movie person and that it would be an utter waste of time for her to watch one that wasn't good.

"Ha ha very funny." she deadpanned, "What's that one you always wanted to watch when we were younger? Let's just watch that."

"Are you sure? Because you'll have to put up with me quoting almost the entire thing. And singing all of the songs." you weren't really asking seeing as she had already found the film, Tangled, and was ready to press play.

"I'll be fine pumpkin."

She hadn't called you that name in years. It was nice to hear it again.

As promised you quoted almost all of the movie, under your breath though, so as to not annoy Abby too much. It was more like a light whisper/lipsync. Unbeknownst to you, while you were thoroughly enjoying what was one of your favourite movies ever, Abby hadn't even been paying attention. She'd been looking at you for the majority of the film's runtime, only looking at the screen when you turned to look at her and found her not focused enough.

"You're missing important character development here Abby, he bought the apples for maximus!"

After the movie you both cleaned the dishes, then went to her room.

Another thing you forgot to consider in all your rumination, showering. You and Abby weren't the shower together type of best friends but it was definitely a 'not a big deal if we see each other naked' type of deal. So you'd often change into and out of clothes in front of each other with no problems. If the whole night so far wasn't gonna do it, this would be the fucking nail in the coffin. Abby, changing out of her clothes, right in front of you.

You didn't want to come off as suspicious by clearly turning away but you also didn't want to feel like a perv and look at her in her underwear, knowing full well that you wished it were under different circumstances. So you opted for casually directing your attention to somewhere else in the room as she stood naked a few feet in front of you.

"I guess I'll go in first," she annouced grabbing her towel and leaving the room.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding as you quickly undressed and wrapped your towel around your body. You sat at the edge of her bed and waited for her to be done as you tried to calm your nerves.

It absolutely did not help your nerves when she stepped out of the bathroom and into her room, glistening from the shower. Muscles on full display, unbraided hair cascading down her back while some stuck to her face. She looked like a goddess. You quickly got up and headed into the shower, leaving her in her room to change.

It was like the more you decided to just let go of your feelings for Abby, the more she'd do things that made you fall for her all over again. You ended up taking way longer than usual in the bathroom, mustering up the courage to face her again while also trying to steady your heart rate.

Finally exiting the bathroom, changed and ready for bed, she closed the door, took off her bedroom light and hopped in right next to you. At first you both stayed silent, staring up at the ceiling, before she broke the silence.

"I'm really glad you were able to come," she expressed, turning on her side to face you.

You mimicked her position, scooting a little closer to the middle of the bed. "I'm glad I did."

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, really taking the other in, before you spoke up again.

"You said you really needed this, what's going on with you?" you asked, poking a finger into her arm.

She looked down at where you touched her arm then back up into your eyes. Sighing with a smile, she responded, "School has been kinda stressful I guess, but to tell you the truth, I just missed you." She scooted closer to you, moving her hand from under her head to caressing yours.

No. She meant that as a friend of course. Do not get your hopes up again.

"You're tense again." she pointed out, hand still laying on your hair.

God, why was she so perceptive?!

"No I'm not?" you scoffed. Your deflection did not work on her.

"Yes you are. You've got that look in your eye again," she continued caressing your hair, "What's going on up there?"

You sat up, pulling away from her touch. She followed you in sitting upright on the bed.

You knew that lying about everything being fine would not work any better than it's been all day, so you figured you'd at least give her something.

"If I tell you, you might not want to hang around me anymore."

She looked at you incredulously. How could you ever think something like that? "Did you kill someone or something?" she teasingly suggested with a laugh, that being the only plausible situation in her head. She didn't miss how you looked at her, amusement absent on your face.

"Sorry, I just- no matter what it is, I won't stop being your friend y/n." she said seriously, one hand moving to touch your thigh.

"Please don't, because if I tell you and you really don't wanna be associated with me anymore it'll just hurt more." you barely got out, eyes becoming teary. You knew you were scared of something like this happening. Your increasing heartbeat and glassy eyes further proved just how terrified this made you.

If Abby wasn't worried before, she certainly was now. "Hey, I get to decide who stays in my circle and who doesn't okay?" She cradled your face.

You shook your head, still not giving into confession. "Everything's gonna change and I don't want it to so let's just forget it."

"If things have to change...then I'll just make sure it's for the better." How could she be so reassuring without even knowing what was going to be said? She held your chin, tilting your head to look at her.

With a sigh, you finally gave in, "I feel so much..love.....for you..since high school. And it's only gotten worse recently. I swear I've tried making it go away, I've tried so much. I don't wanna be a bad friend by springing this on you but i also know that trying and failing to hide it isnt doing me any favours either so.." Tears were streaming down your face, your sniffles becoming the most prominent sound in the room.

"And now because you know, things are never gonna be the same and I just wish I'd been better at hiding it. I wish I never had these feelings in the first place. Then this wouldn't be happening and I wouldn't have to lose my best friend right after we had so much fun together."

Abby was silent. Staring into your eyes, her expression unreadable. She looked down into her lap, a small smile growing on her lips, before looking back up at you.

She leaned forward till there was barely space in between the two of you. Abby glanced down at your lips then back up to your eyes, making it clear what she was referring to. "Can I?"

Your heart rate was through the roof. There's no way she wanted this too. "Are you not.. worried about how things are gonna be between us now?"

"I said I'd make sure the change was for the better, didn't I?"

"You can."

In what felt like zero time, Abby carefully crashed her lips onto yours. Her lips were soft, her touch gentle. It was exactly what you imagined this to be like.

Gently pulling away, she wiped your tears with her thumb, looking at you with so much love in her eyes you swore the rest of the world would now be void of it.

Through sniffles and smiles you apologized, "Sorry hah, I'm a mess."

"Did you really think I couldn't love you?" Abby asked, holding your face in her hands. "I've loved you before I even knew what love was, pumpkin."

Her efforts to wipe your tears were now fruitless, your eyes pouring out streams of emotion.

She pulled you in for a hug. This time, a proper one, without the weight of what could have been laying on your entire being. You shared one more kiss, Abby then kissing your forehead as you both lay down to finally sleep. A sleep void of worries and stress.

You were actually hers.

soooo sorry if that was basically 95% buildup for 5% payoff. I totally wrote this in a whim at late hours of the night. anyway, hope you enjoy. requests are open! to those whove requested, I am working on your stuff so have no fear :>

[celisths]

JJK men reacting to you being quiet during sex | 18+

starring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro

warnings: explicit, suggestive, 18+

a/n: i didn't do all my usual boys for this bcs i don't know how much you guys will like this since this is my first time writing something like this, but if you like it and want more pls lmk!!

masterlist

Satoru Gojo

~this poor man was be so insecure

~he wouldn't say anything in the moment, not wanting to make things more awkward

~but afterwards, while you lay with your head on his chest, he couldn't help but speak up

~"did i... not make you feel good?" he would as quietly, almost bashfully, silently praying you would scream no

~and frankly, you almost did! you couldn't bare the shameful look on his face, looking like a kicked puppy

~as soon as you denied his accusation, his shoulders went slack as he let out a deep breath he didn't realise he was holding

~"why the heck were you so quiet then!?" he would whine, pulling you close against his chest with a big, childish pout on his glossy lips

Suguru Geto

~suguru would be more confused than concerned.

~i mean, it would really depend on the kind of sex you two are having. if its sloppy, lust drunk, sex after a while of not seeing each-other then you best believe sugu is way too pussy drunk to realise whether or not you're making noise.

~but if its slow, love-making and you're quiet? oh yeah, suguru is confused.

~he would whisper in your ear, "babygirl? thrust, why're you so quiet?", nipping on your earlobe with his sharp teeth

~you couldn't keep up the facade much longer- truthfully, you were being quiet because you thought your loudness would bother him.

~but when he deliberately bullied your poor g spot with his cock, you couldn't hold back wails and whines

~"atta girl..."

Kento Nanami

~Kento would probably discuss it with you the next morning, over coffee and a delicious breakfast he prepared for the two of you

~he would be sat across from you, nervously picking at the scrambled eggs on his plate as he wondered what the best way to word his next question would be

~"sweetheart, can we talk about last night...?" his voice would be totally level, but his blue eyes looking anywhere but you're face would give him away

~"you were very... quiet. was i displeasing, my love?" oh how nervous ken would be for your answer, his worst nightmare was not being good enough to those he loved

~as soon as you reassured him, a smile creeped its way onto his lips. reaching over the table and grabbing your hand to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles

~kento had never been more relieved

Choso Kamo

~this poor boy would stop mid sex

~he would look into your confused eyes with his own concerned ones "my love, whats wrong??"

~he would be checking you for any signs of discomfort on or around you before you could even reply. as soon as you denied anything being wrong, his little frown would deepen.

~"but... you were so quiet.." he would be very confused at this concept, every other time you two had sex you would be loud and whiney, why was this time different?

~"i just wanted to enjoy the moment with out my annoying moa-" but you were cut off by your sweet, sweet boy slipping his cock back into your pussy.

~"no... wanna hear you baby, please..." and god, how could anyone say no to that cute little voice?

Toji Fushiguro

~as soon as toji notices that you're not making any- nah, holding back your pretty noises he doubled his efforts

~you really think toji fushiguro is going to let you get away with being quiet? hahahaha

~he would thrust his cock a little deeper, his fat head massaging your g spot perfectly

~when you still didn't give in, he got just a little pissed.

~"trying to stay fuckin' quiet?" his thumb started toying with your swollen clit, lips clasping around one of your nipples. he was determined to break you

~a wicked grin split across his lips when he heard your little whines, and hums, turn into wails and incoherent babbling

~"what i fuckin' thought..."

credits to @saradika-graphics for banners

[lumitoiile]

xiao : [crapbag.]

☆ — fluff; he takes care of you while you're sick. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

"achoo!" 

you sniffle, nose red as you stare up at your ceiling in annoyance. ugh. you've been bedridden all morning, sneezing and coughing up a fit. you can't even remember how you got sick in the first place... it's all a blur. your head feels light and your thoughts have started to grow delirious. 

"this sucks," you groan, reaching over for a tissue on the nightstand and nearly falling off your bed in the process. why'd you have to get sick today, of all days? you'd been planning to visit xiao this afternoon, but...that's obviously out of the question now, given the circumstances. you barely even had enough energy to walk to the bathroom this morning. 

you sigh, leaning back onto your pillow after loudly blowing your nose. after trying your best to make yourself a little more comfortable, you gently hover your hands over your eyelids, keeping them shut. mmn...cold hands. that feels nice. a yawn escapes your mouth, satisfied tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. "i wonder what xiao's up to right now," you whisper. 

well, it’s not like the two of you are particularly close or anything—you hardly even qualify as friends, and knowing him, no progress was going to be made there any time soon. ‘human interaction is quite troublesome,’ so he says. but something about him feels…lonely, in your eyes. or maybe it’s sad? you can’t tell. it’s hard to get a good read on that guy, mister ‘i don’t feel emotion like you mortals do.’ 

“it’s you.”

you jolt at the sudden voice, sitting upright and frantically scanning the room for its source. and low and behold, there he is, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. uh oh. he looks irritated.

”xiao…?” you blink a few times, rubbing your eyes to try and convince yourself he’s actually real, standing here before you. up until he spoke, you hadn’t even heard or noticed him. “wh—where the hell did you come from?”

he lets out a tired sigh, gold eyes narrowing. “you called out my name, did you not?” he says it like it should be obvious. “but you don’t seem to be in any danger…why have you summoned me?”

”what are you—“ oh. that’s right, you remember him saying something about that…whoopsie! you give him a sheepish smile. “s-sorry,” you mutter, voice raspy and laced in sick. “it was an accident. nothing's wrong, j-just feeling a little under the weather is all. you should leave before i get you sick too…”

he looks like he wants to roll his eyes. “you shouldn't worry over something so foolish. we adepti do not get sick," he scoffs. 

you nearly facepalm. ah, right. he said pretty much the same thing about sleeping a little while ago. regardless, you stumble out of bed, struggling to steady yourself as you plant your feet and lean onto the nightstand. "i still don't want to give you any of my icky germs. you should...you should go."

you're tempted to start pushing him toward the door, but that would defeat the purpose of trying to keep your germs away. he notices this and stares at you for a moment before letting out another sigh, speaking in a low voice. "you're in no condition to be left here alone."

"w-what are you talking about? i'm completely fine," you lie, holding back a wicked cough and chuckling awkwardly. "really, you don't to stay here. its...not even that bad! see?"

his gaze on you is intense and his eyebrows furrow. "your complexion is scaring me. please sit down."

"i'm telling you, i'm fine—" you try to take another step toward him, as if to prove that you're capable of doing so, but the archons don't seem to be on your side today because your knee gives out and you fall over again.

oh shit.

xiao's at your side in an instant, catching you and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding your own over his neck as he keeps you steady. "i told you," he scowls, eyes narrowed. "you need to be more careful." 

you start hastily start sputtering out apologies, but he pays you no mind as he effortlessly lifts you back onto your bed, pulling his touch away quickly as if he might hurt you somehow. "just—stay here. don't move," he mutters. "i'll...look after you."

your heart nearly stops and you start to feel your face getting warm, though this time it isn't from your sickness. did you hear him correctly? "y-you don't have to do that! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself...really, i'm sure you have other things to do."

he doesn't say anything. instead, he takes note of your red face and leans a little closer, very carefully brushing his fingers against your forehead. this, of course, only makes your cheeks heat up even more. he frowns, oblivious to your embarrassment as he pulls away. "you seem to have a fever...have you taken any medication?"

you nod, face flushed. "um...yeah, i took some a little while ago. i really am fine, you don't need to—"

but he's already dashed off to who knows where, the sound of rummaging through cabinets and water running easily heard from down the hall. he returns a moment later with a cold wet rag, wrung out for your use. he stares at you awkwardly for a moment before handing it to you. "...here."

you give him a soft smile and take it from him, gratefully draping the rag over your forehead with a content sigh. "whew. that feels...a lot better, actually...thank you. the cold feels nice."

he nods, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "do you...need anything else? can i perhaps make you something?"

you bite back the urge to snort. "what, like cook? you know how to cook?" 

his expression changes, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was nearly pouting. "i'm not incompetent. of course i can cook. though i'll admit, it isn't particularly my favorite thing in the world. its not like i have any need for food in the first place."

you let out a soft chuckle. that's right...he doesn't need to eat. strange. he seemed awfully happy back when you made him that almond tofu...well, as happy as he can get, at least. he's so pissy all the time.

you nod at his question. "i was gonna make myself some soup earlier, but..." you shrug. "i've been stuck in bed all day and never actually got around to it."

"soup..." he gives you a single nod as he walks away back into your kitchen. oh, jeez. here we go...you call out a thank you as he leaves, really hoping he wasn't lying when he said he could cook. you can hear the opening of cabinets as he rummages through your stuff, looking for everything he needs.

a moment later, you call out to him again. "hey, xiao?" 

he stops what he's doing and the noises pause, perking up at the sound of his name. "yes?"

you smile softly. "please don't burn my house down."

[earthnashes]

SOOOOOOOO. Arcane season 2, huh? Now that a couple of days have passed for me to marinate I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the season. This WILL contain spoilers though so if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching for yourself first!

So! Overall, as a standalone season I feel like there are things Arcane excelled at and things that have lost its way a bit. For starters and easily the best part of the show: it's visuals. I've heard some complaints about how much the show cost but like. Brother. When I think of super expensive shows, THIS is what I think it should look like. At no point did I question the budget because it's made abundantly clear every penny is used to best use it could possibly get. And it resulted in what I've been calling a modern greek statue: a marvel, an incredible tapestry of just about every art medium you can think of woven into something so beyond anything I've seen in animation I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to express exactly how much I'm taken by it. This is a clear example of what art IS man and jesus christ. It's mindblowing. I can't praise the show enough for that, like it's literally the best looking thing I've ever seen in media.

Same with the sound design and music, particularly in the battle scenes. Something about the energy behind the sounds, like the clacking of Vi's gloves as shes revving up for a punch, or the reverb of metal clashing, the sound of how blows connect. Even the little things, like the distinct difference between footsteps, or the glitch-like sound that spiders in the backround before shimmer or the arcane is utilized? Like CHEF'S KISS BRO. God almighty it tickles a part in my head.

Just the visuals and sound design is fuckin tasty bro. A solid 1000000000/10

So now Characters. Season 2 managed to take the existing characters and really built off of what was already there. In my opinion the characters, particularly the main players, received additional depth and evolution in a way that made sense in the long run, and the conclusions they reached in their arcs felt like a correct conclusion. However, it's how they got there and how fast they get there being one of my complaints.

For starters: the love triangle between Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn. I didn't appreciate how, for the most part, it felt like it took a backseat in this season when it was one of the driving forces of season 1. It's not JUST them though: the relationships of every character kinda fell away to the wayside for the sake of getting through as much of the plot as possible, but we're on these three right now so:

-I feel like a PROPER recouncil between Vi and Jinx was sorely needed. There were hints to it, particularly in Act 2, but we were kinda left guessing and having to fill the majority of the gaps ourselves. One of Vi's driving factors as a character is her relationship with Jinx/Powder; her unable to accept that she's changed in her absence. Act 2 opened the door in allowing Vi to learn about Jinx as she is and come to terms that, even if she's changed, she's still her sister and there's a chance to bridge that gap. Vice versa to Jinx, particularly because of Isha's presence; I have to assume by becoming an older sister herself, she begins to get an understanding of Vi she previously lacked and that really could've been a stronger catalyst in her recounciling with her. Had the sisters actually got more on-screen time together and really let the hope between them breath, I feel like the ending would've had a much stronger impact.

-Cait/Vi, as much as I enjoy the pairing, felt a little too disjointed. Act 1 was the strongest showcase of their relationship; a sudden escalation driven by mutual grief and attraction and genuine care only to be torn apart immediately after because of Cait's blind rage. Cinema. Beautiful. But immediately after, we don't really see either character work off that much in my opinion. Vi does have a spiral that was very well shown, though I do wish we saw more of Pit Vi and her descent. As far as Cait goes I would've preferred seeing her spiraling in her own way; like we kinda get that I think, but I was expecting the show to REALLY showcase how much she allows her hunt for vengance cloud her mind and take over her life. Like bro she was so SURE she wouldn't miss (immediately after missing every shot she took) that she was willing to potentially kill a child for it. Ain't no way she wasn't constantly frothing at the mouth for some time, wallowing in Vi's apparent "betrayal". I DO like how she is seen questioning her actions but it just feels like a snapshot.

And the sex scene. Particularly WHERE the sex scene occurred, immediately after Jinx heavily implied offing herself to "break the cycle". Vi isn't stupid. I felt like it was extremely clear what Jinx was alluding to, and it seemed like Vi understood that with how she asked "What are you gonna do?" She sounded terrified and desperate. She has SEEN Jinx be suicidal in this season first hand, was all but directly asked by Jinx to put her out of her misery herself. You're telling me she immediately bones the shit outta Cait right after Jinx scampers off and seems to forget it?? I dunno man. :/ I wouldn't remove the fuckfest, but in my opinion there were better places to put it.

And overall in terms of the characters as a whole, there was just too many gaps and too little time. Vander felt like he was underutilized, particularly his clear fight in trying to get a hold of his humanity; could've really used him to push the running theme of people can change, but they're still the same person at their very core.

Heimerdinger got shafted I feel like. He had such a strong impact in S1, only for his death to be... well. Forgotten.

Mel's storyline was way too fucking short. Love the powers she got but they ultimately felt unearned; I feel like we could've spent way more time on her learning to control it to some extent. Her

Ambessa was anticlimactic and I didn't appreciate how she ultimately perished. I wanted her to die, don't get me wrong, but the war in general felt waaaaay too short and her death too easy.

Victor's progression is the only one that felt mostly natural in it's pacing. But again, with how unstoppable his robot pawns were, I felt like they really robbed the final battle of any significant weight to it; Zaun and Piltover, fighting as one against a common enemy. One of the biggest payoffs in the show... felt underwheming and, again, unearned.

And the new characters didn't really get much chance to do much of anything. Loris felt like an important parallel to Vander given how many times he was shown to look and sorta act like him. I felt like he had a bigger role to fill but just ended up bodied. Maddie, at least, had somethin interesting goin on but I feel like she could've been made more impactful in her betrayal.

Overall, a mid 5/10. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely needed more time to really flesh everything out.

And finally, the plot. I personally really enjoyed the overall plot and it's opposing themes to season 1. Whereas s1 felt like "love is undoing" and veered into tragedy, s2 felt like "love is healing" and veered into hope; the sisters learning to accept one another, Vi and Cait mending the rift between each other, Victor and Jayce finding their way back to one another. Isha giving Jinx purpose and a new perspective on life, Vander returning and, even if briefly, managing to regain his humanity for his daughters, the list goes on. It's such a beautiful contrast to season 1, but that is part of why I strongly feel like Arcane NEEDED 1 more season.

Season 2 was too focused on getting as much story out as possible that it didn't allow the characters themselves to push it forward, and it was weakened for it. Had there been 3 seasons, Act 1 and Act 2 could have been the entirety of season 2, and Act 3 could have been the whole of a season 3, where we get to see the total climax of everything that occured.

_______

My meds is beginning to kick in so I'll leave it here for now! TLDR: Arcane season 2 was mostly good. I have my complaints and thoughts on how I'd personally structure everything, but a a whole, pretty good!

Season 2 Rating: 7.5/10

____________

[eerna]

i was one of the people who saw the early leaks post and i remember trying not to read too much of it but i had a moment of being like wow this cant be real but also it definitely could be. i remember reading about the damn caitvi sex scene and i thought to myself thats so ass why would they do it in a prison and then i realized the writers probably thought it was some meaningful parallel or something about vi being able to transform being imprisoned with something good

then the act dropped and i saw the damn parallels with cait finding her in the cell and i was like ok yeah. they basically had that as an idea. amanda overton was talking about it in a watch party and said they love their parallels and it was meant to symbolize vi addressing her trauma and im like. i see what they were going for and i get it I GUESS narratively but i really feel like this is such monkeys paw shit like we got this scene at what cost. and like the scene ITSELF was very good and sweet and lovely but like could it not have happened ANYWHERE ELSE?

i feel like the biggest problem with arcane s2 was that the creators rlly wanted to push the bar with animation storytelling. amanda talked about this too and like i feel like it kind of highlights the problem. where bc this show is so amazing graphically the animators wanna highlight that with as much action as possible instead of focusing on smaller scenes and more intimate quiet moments. i watched arcane s1 all at once after it came out and there were def parts that felt a little rushed in certain acts but it was nothing like s2. it just feels like they had all these story beats they wanted to hit but didnt give it the time it deserved and it sucks bc they said they always meant it to be 2 seasons so like why does it feel like this. they wrote them back to back around the same time what happened between s1 and s2. i just feel like the caitvi sex scene is a microcosm of the larger problem. they had these emotional beats and story moments that in isolation are really powerful but its almost like we didnt get a proper A to B transition. its like we skipped several steps for sooo many story beats.

such complex characters with real ass lives causing real ass problems. cait's privilege being an issue, how gratifying that could be to have explored. viktor's experience being explored more in depth. just so much more about zaun. like all of it was there in tiny slivers but it was never given the depth to GROW or properly BREATHE bc five million action scenes and plot points had to be squeezed in.

ultimately i love arcane overall. i think it has broken boundaries and done some amazing things. but its blemishes are really... painful at the same time. and knowing how the writers did such a good job in s1 makes me just like. cmon guys. you had it. YOU HAD IT

anyways sorry for blowing up your ask with so much rambling i just... idk. what are your thoughts on this stuff do you agree with my assessment or do you think the culprit is something else

No prob, welcome to the symposium~ Yeah, I totally get what the writers were going for with Vi. Which is why I am so shocked they thought it was a good idea. Like, okay, she is addressing her trauma in the sex scene... But why should her trauma get addressed by being locked in a jail cell by her sister, who just spent days being wrongfully imprisoned in there by the girl she's about to have sex with, and who then told her she was gonna off herself. If anything, the thing I was feeling was pain because it happened again, a Zaunite was thrown in jail by the Enforcers after she helped and saved them without any rights, and she was reminded she was less than them and her life is worth nothing... Mmmmm, the perfect memory to overwrite prison abuse!

I too felt s1 had some strange pacing choices, Vi and Jayce teamup comes to mind first, and that was, surprise surprise, a fight scene. But those were pretty minor, and still left time for other scenes to develop properly. It only becomes a real problem when it happens scene after scene, character after character, until no one is acting in character and you constantly feel like you have skipped a scene or two. I too remmeber them saying they wrote the seasons back to back, but. Dare I say it. I think s2 was so majorly rewritten by the time it went to recording that only the bare bones remained. In fact, that might be why we feel this way - maybe they DID have a frame they wanted to follow, but the rewrites warped and twisted the characters so intensely they ended up making no sense in the context of that frame. That's right, I'm talking about the way they decided to more closely follow and collaborate with LoL in s2. Jayce's final speech to Viktor only makes sense for game Viktor, and goes completely against s1 Viktor. Vi deciding police brutality doesn't really matter all that much makes sense for game Vi, and foes completely against s1 Vi. Jinx giving up on ever being loved or accepted by others makes sense for game Jinx, and goes completely against s1 Jinx.

So yeah my thesis is: Arcane knows it looks good, and sometimes it prevents it from being well written. It also decided to throw in its lot with LoL in s2, and no amount of good intentions from the writers could have saved it from crashing and burning.

[enkays-den]

And You Could Have It All/My Empire of Dirt

(Wild Life Session 6 Spoilers)

1.1k words, mentions of character death, nothing crazy violent

The first thing to go is the Bamboozler's base. it's spiteful, but Jimmy did land that kill on Mumbo that they never got proper revenge for. He burns the parrots one by one, scorches the cherry trees until its black instead of pink and green. He takes special delight in tearing down the reputation board. It's the only little spark of joy he feels.

Next is B's initial base. He turns the creaking forest to ash, feeling smoke fill his lungs with every breath. He killed Skizz, plain and simple. No dignity of a fight, just an ambush of a poor, stupid, lovable man. Later he found out via a guilt-ridden Impulse that they had taken advantage of a moment where Skizz was being stupidly valiant and took his armour off around Lizzie. It was stupid, but it wasn't supposed to end in death.

That was the last thing Impulse told him before he pushed him off the Spanner's TNT bridge. Grian had at least given him the small kindness of letting him fall where his best friend had, before taking care of the rest of his crew. Impulse out of everyone else, truly understood the pain of outliving Skizz.

The bases of the 4 G's are razed with ease. The second one even more so, with TNT traps and a full to the brim creeper farm underneath. It almost sounded like fireworks. He didn't want to think about TNT explosions. That's how they both went out. They were just having fun they weren't even hurting anyone what the hell did they do to DESERVE--

Ren and Martyn's sky-high treehouses become an unholy beacon of flame. They didn't even do much to them. He would have been angry at Martyn for the penultimate kill on Skizz, but it really was an accident, and Martyn had been horrified when Skizz died right in front of them. And he seemed repentant for the breeze charge kill. But that might have had something to do with the sword slowly cutting into his windpipe.

The Family's car and base was still besieged by ravagers, evokers, and raiders of all sorts from Joel and Gem's last stand. Grian wasn't touching that place with a ten foot pole. And they were probably the ones that were nicest to his boys, anyways. Gem had been to the point of exasperated at Skizz's performance and was always pushing him to do better. Despite being a powerhouse of a duo, they had never been threats.

Grian stands atop the TNT launcher, newly calibrated and aimed. He stood VERY far away from the speeding minecart in its little loop. This is where all of it happened. Where his lads had died, so suddenly and so pointlessly and so soon. Why them? They were two of the most harmless people of the lot of them. Was this a joke to them?

Grian pulls a lever, and the cart launches into the air. He goes to the end to watch it sail down, down, down, landing squarely on what was remaining of Tango's wood house. Most of it gets obliterated in the blast.

Sure, Tango had already gotten his comeuppance. Hunted for sport by Jimmy and Lizzie and B in honor of Skizz, or perhaps in penance of their actions against their little team. Their--quite literally--little trio. Tango had been brought to him by a triumphant Jimmy, tied up and gagged, and Grian got to have the honor of ending his final life. Not that it would bring anything back.

Jimmy scurried away after that, knowing the dark look in his eyes spelled trouble. And he was right. The next step up of the wildcard was so much worse than before. Endless night, a darkness so suffocating it quickly drove everyone insane with paranoia. The comfort of the sun would never be experienced again. Not when the lights of Grian's lives (this time around) were snuffed out.

Grian sends another minecart down. And another, and another. The pit that once was Tango's base is a crumpling maw of earth, rock, and scorch marks, going deeper and deeper. But it can never match the hole In Grian's chest.

If he was going to finish what his Spanners had started, he was going got damn well finish it.

He only stops when everyone's supply of explosives are depleted. That will have to do.

Finally, he flies over to the two makeshift graves he dug. Not that there was any body to bury. He runs his blackened fingers over the signs he placed, his silly epitaphs were all he could write, because if he spoke from the heart, there wouldn't be enough paper in the world to talk about how much he loved Skizz and Mumbo. It was fun and careless and joyful and laughter, and then his world became silent.

He hits between the two stone monuments and sighs, exhaustion fills his lung, alongside the smoky air. "Lads, it's just me left." His voice is hoarse from disuse. He can't remember when he spoke last. Maybe Skizz's funeral.

"Everything is burnt down. Spanners won. I'm so sorry that I didn't bring you with me."

A crackle and a crash from far above signals another fallen cherry tree.

"It's so bloody stupid. This time, I got to have fun with how things went, I had full control. And I lost you so fast. Maybe I should have been keeping a closer eye on you. Or done something to make it easier."

He receives no consolation or comfort, which is how he knows Skizz is truly gone. And Mumbo isn't here to bring that strangely driven attitude.

"It's not enough to bring you back, but I hope you can accept all of this as an apology." He prays a world without them going up in a hellish blaze is worth something to them.

What good was he, as a being with incredible power if he could only use it to play silly little games, and not save the people he chose?

"I don't think I can claim I won for you, because this doesn't feel like winning."

In the distance, a booming crash that could only be Ren and Martyn's bases falling echoed across the land.

"I did live for you, though. I lived beyond all the rest for you."

The endless night grew darker with smoke and ash. It smothers and suffocates and chokes and burns. Good.

As the darkness starts creeping around the edge of his vision, as the smoke starts to sear his lungs, Grian thinks 'at least next time, we'll be able to laugh about this'.

He loses consciousness, and he is crowned winner.

YEAH IM FEELING A WAY ABOUT THIS WAHHHHHHHHHHH MY BOY

SKIZZLEMAN YOU DID SO GOOD HONEY

[horce-divorce]

hiii we still just need $25 urgently, because we are OUT of the medication which keeps us both off of feeding tubes and out of the hospital

We have a little bit of money left, but not enough for a refill.

$25 is the bare minimum we need; $40 would be ideal-- but we NEED to go get some TODAY, and 25 is an easier goal to meet. so we will take absolutely whatever we can get. Even if you've only got 5 or 10 to spare that gets us a LOT closer than we were a minute prior 💖

Please reblog 🙏 I know everyone is struggling more and more, and this time of year is always especially tight, but a mere 25 bucks can literally help save the lives of 2 trans people right now and I'm not joking. I really wish I was.

my bday is on nov 15th!! 🎉 it would be ideal not to have to beg for my life for my bday gift, but alas, my bf and I are two homeless, disabled transmascs who have been trying to get back on our feet for over a year. especially in the shadow of the us election, our futures are very uncertain, but we are resolved to live + stay Out no matter what happens. theyre stuck here with us, too >:)

our short term goal is just to get enough $ to pay for meds and the phone bill, maybe $150- just enough to survive the month. I have a rare disorder that doctors refuse to treat, and my med regimen is just barely keeping me off a feeding tube and is ofc not covered by insurance

I don't have much on my WL right now, but being able to manage my pain would be nice <3 we live on less than $3 per person per day, so a little goes a long way for us!!! even $5 or $10 makes a huge difference!

[ 🫐 paypal ] will go further but we also have [ cshpp🐛 ] 💖✌️

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 5

"that's why i said ain't no love" (finale)

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 4 / PART 5 / EPILOG. →

chapter summary: [MULTI-POV] Miles has been a ghost, so you decide to do your own digging. Your answer might have just found you first.

content/warnings: graphic depictions of violence and injury grieving, death

word count: 8.7k (WHAT)

a/n: hey 😁 there's gonna be a teeny tiny epilogue after this one but this is the official end to aint no love! thanks to @/qiuweyballs forever for proofreading this series wouldn't exist without him 🙏

"I need that edit by 3pm, Watson!"

"Got it."

Even if the office was filled with the constant clack of keyboards, or desk phones ringing, or even Jameson himself barking right by her ear — as he was right now — MJ still had to keep up her persona. Agreeable, non-confrontational, all part of company protocol. There was no time for personal opinions or rebuttals, other than Jameson's; she was sure everyone would start coming in tin hats if it meant keeping their jobs.

"You're falling behind, you know," he continued as she quickly clicked off of the email she was working on. "Going to that school fair of yours set you at least a week behind!"

"It was one afternoon, sir. And I'm all caught up, the edit's not due until—"

"The edit is due when I say it's due. You out of all people should understand how things work around here by now. Get it done!"

The man sauntered off without much opportunity for her to reply, a cup of coffee crumpling between his fingers that he probably had yet to take a sip of. The poor intern that had made it would be the next to get an earful when he did try it, she was sure. Too much sugar! Not enough milk! Did you make this with your eyes closed? she recalled. MJ had heard it all by now.

Jameson didn't really have the gall to fire her — she knew that at the very least. The article could wait, however. Visions was yet to release a statement about their fired teacher, and the article would just look like all their other ones — speculatory and clickbait-y with not very much actual information. The Sinister Six ones certainly did well though, always on their broadcasts and the front of their website. Even NNC didn't have as much notoriety as the Bugle did with its less-than skeptical audiences.

The Visions student, right. With a few pasted links and a couple attachments, along with a lackluster "Good luck!" tacked on the end, she hit send. Good to know kids still have dumb email addresses.

She didn't take being abandoned a second time at the fair personally, really — everyone was fifteen once — but she couldn't help but wonder what had happened. It was almost imperceptible, but she knew when a smile looked off. There was something noticeably different about you when you had come back.

"MJ, uh, can I get your business card by any chance?"

"You know what a business card is?" she had joked, but it hadn't done much to ease the discomfort. "Yeah, sure. Contact me if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks."

You'd asked for articles. Specifically on the Chameleon, and on the recent Prowler activity. You hadn't told her much, just that you needed help compiling some information for school. Some... presentation. MJ wasn't sure whether it was a lie or not, but it was all publicly available information anyhow.

You'd also wanted any information on Visions "teacher", Garrett East. His arrest had been for identity theft, and nothing more. Not many had reported on it as of yet, given he was detained so recently, but you were an insider. He had apparently been your calculus teacher, and the man that he had stolen the identity of had supposedly gone missing a few months before Garrett returned in his place. At least, that's all she had of her article. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to send it to a random high school student before her own boss, but it also wasn't like the man had any real idea what went on in his company. It was a wonder they managed to get through the quarter.

It was just a favour for someone nice she'd met. Maybe it'd repay her in some way in the future, most likely not. Regardless, she couldn't help but smile a little when she noticed her phone light up, a "thank you" text under your name. If only she actually had a work phone number, and it wasn't just her regular one. Visions students making connections already, it seemed.

The time on the screen was 2:41pm. She was met face to face with her wallpaper once again — a low-lit picture of her and a brown-haired man with glasses, the two of them smiling, red faced and dressed like their college selves. Peter Parker, her fiancé. They were holding those terrible beers he'd sworn by. He was a photographer, but this was one of the only pictures he'd taken of them together. It was shot on a bite-sized digital camera they'd bought for college, but never ended up using much. Now, it was all she really had.

Maybe the Chameleon really had come back when Peter had gone missing. Maybe it had something to do with you, with Visions

You probably already had a lot on your plate. And so did she. If she had anybody to chase, it was Otto Octavius. He'd offered Peter an internship in Manhattan. She'd never seen the man herself, only heard from him how good of a person he was, how this was going to get him a job and that it'd be good for them. That he'd finally get some use out of his degree and get to pursue science instead of taking "crummy" pictures for the Bugle. That they could save up for their wedding, and...

That was in Manhattan. The disappearances now were in Brooklyn. And even then, it was coming close to a year since he had disappeared.

She was always running in circles, at the command of an old man with a head too big for his body.

2:43pm. MJ turned off her phone, sliding it into her pocket.

Better get this edit finished.

2:43pm. Wednesday.

Ideally, with a couple days off of school, you would probably be at home, or maybe even out doing something fulfilling with your life. Maybe you could've even gone somewhere with Miles, if he hadn't up-and-disappeared along with every trace of him.

Your unread messages to him faded to black, leaving you to stare at your own face. Maybe you could've used those extra days to sleep, if it hadn't been for the chilling glow of purple eyes or the melting disfigured face that threatened to materialise everytime you closed your eyes.

What did he even like? Comics that he'd mentioned to you once? Of course he'd want to go to a comic book store with you after you'd made fun of him for seeming to want to deal with criminals himself. If only he'd come save you from Brooklyn Public Library right now. You were certain it couldn't get any more swampy in here with all the Visions students scrambling to do their off-day work right now.

Reading through the reply to a ballsy request you'd given to the Bugle's head journalist, you had a few questions in mind other than the ones concerning your disappearing, sort-of friend. Was all this research really practical? Maybe not. Would it help you sleep to know that the guy that had been teaching you calculus since the start of sophomore year was actually posing as a man that had gone missing months ago?

Another very normal thing that only seemed to happen to you.

Maybe you just attracted bad luck. That girl in your history class had joked about it last year, after you'd bumped into your teacher and every single paper he'd been holding had fallen to the ground in one scattered disaster. She wouldn't let it go, and it appeared that your brain wouldn't either.

Or like that time you went to Oscorp on a visit day and happened to be the only one there, trapped with a shapeshifting monster and the Prowler on the 90 millionth floor of that god-damned tower.

Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe you were cursed — or maybe you just walked into these situations on purpose. Like right now, sifting through years of articles on real criminals, with nothing but a hunch or fifteen.

The Chameleon had been arrested, like Miles had said, eight years ago on accounts of identity theft, much like your "teacher" but also very little like your teacher. According to what you were reading, Dmitri Smerdyakov been dubbed "the Chameleon" for a string of carefully orchestrated take-overs of big companies after impersonating their CEOs. His defence had argued that the big names in these companies were gone because they "wanted to be free of the burden of running their own companies".

You didn't have to be a journalist to make a face at that.

There was no mention of shapeshifting, as you'd seen with Wellston and Stromm. Just a couple lousy identity theft charges that didn't add up to their total amount anyway. This guy had more luck than you'd ever had.

The only other person that had seen any "shapeshifting" happen was Miles, and although he'd seemed surprised, something about his reaction was strange. You couldn't place it, but there was some sort of analytical twinge in his eyes, as if he was solving a math problem and not looking at someone shapeshift for the first time. You didn't know anything, really. Miles seemed like he did, though. If only you could bump into him and wring it out of him. And maybe go buy overpriced comic books with him and forget about the fact that your teacher had been arrested and midterms were coming up and maybe even become actual friends.

If only you were that lucky.

If only it was that easy to move past, as well. The fact that someone that had been involved in disappearances 8 years ago might be mixed up with this, along with the recent uptick in missing people made you feel uneasy. Surely any detective would have put two and two together by now, but remembering the fact that the shapeshifter had turned into a literal police officer dissolved any reassurance that thought might've brought. You were in a public library surrounded by unoptimistic college students, parents with their kids and even some of your own classmates, but the feeling was completely your own, tucked away behind a computer screen and a booked monitor session.

You couldn't be scared, though. You'd already seen probably the scariest thing in your life, kind-of almost died, and been wound up in so much craziness you knew so little about. If only high school had prepared you for researching literal criminals.

"Your 30 minute session is over. You will be logged out shortly."

God damn it.

If only Brooklyn Public Library's computer sessions weren't 30 minutes. You didn't want to log back in anyway, not if someone had booked after you. You could go back home, the library had just been an excuse to get out, really. Not that you'd made a whole new email and signed in as a guest on the computer. Not that you were paranoid.

Picking up your bag and checking your messages one last time you made a beeline for the exit. Well, less of a line and more of a strange obstacle course through the swarm of people. And of course you had to knock into someone. Just your luck.

"Hey, sorry," you mumbled, hands raising just a little in apology. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." The person dusted themself off a little with a frown, before looking up to meet your eyes.

Rafael?

"Hey, it's you," he realised, eyes widening as if he'd just gotten lucky.

Out of all places...

"I... gotta go."

"No, no, wait. I need you to do something."

Of course you do.

"I really don't have the time," you whispered back, as he caught up to your advance towards the doors.

"Uh, hey, listen... You talk to Miles, right? Like, he's your friend?"

"Yeah...?" No...? You weren't even sure at this point.

"Uh, look, I need you to tell him something..."

"What, you're in love with him?" you spat, finally looking at him again. "Cause it seems like it. You're always talking about him. Always talking to me about him."

"What?! No the f*ck I'm no—"

A much louder "shhhhhh!" got your attention. The librarian didn't look too pleased. Neither did any one of the people who turned to look at you.

"I'm not gay, man!"

So, the two of you were now out on the street as Rafael defended his sexuality with nothing but exasperated hand gestures.

"I didn't say that."

"Okay, well I'm not. Damn, why are you acting weird for?"

"Your face is red."

"I'm black!"

"That melanin isn't doing anything for you."

"Shut the f*ck up!"

You rolled your eyes, hiding the way the corners of your mouth were starting to lift with a deep exhale. The poor guy was not very discreetly checking his face right now with the back of his hand.

"What, then? What did you wanna say to him so bad?" you asked, instantly making him retract his hand from his cheek.

"Forget it."

"No, tell me. You got us all the way out here for no reason?"

He gave you a look, before promptly looking away, mumbling something under his breath.

"Didn't hear that." That made him groan loudly. It was akin to a petulant child, if not a few octaves deeper.

"I'm... sorry."

Huh?

"You're... sorry?" you repeated, making him let out a huff.

"Look, I..." Rafael met your eyes again, his narrowing uncomfortably. There was something strange in his expression. "My mom's missing. I dunno who to tell. I know I messed up and I... I get it now. I get it. The thing with his dad."

Oh sh*t.

Remorse. That was what you were seeing in his eyes. Or maybe regret. Neither you thought you'd ever see from him.

"Tell him I'm sorry. Or don't. Whatever," Rafael muttered, kicking a bottle cap on the ground until it skittered to a halt by a dog, who found interest in it as its owner tried to tug it along the pavement.

"You can't tell him yourself?" you replied, brows furrowing. As bad as you felt, this was a personal matter. You weren't about to be a parrot for the guy that hadn't grown out of his bullying phase.

"You think he'd listen?"

"It's understandable if he doesn't."

"And what if he doesn't come back?"

"Why..." What? "Why wouldn't he come back?"

"I... dunno. Why can't you just tell him?"

Huh. "Why wouldn't he come back, huh?"

Rafael gives you a sort of reserved look, as if he's contemplating whether or not to lie to your face.

"I heard something about him while I was in that office. He's like... withdrawing from the school."

"He's... what?" Withdrawing from the school? Could he even withdraw that fast? "Why?"

"I dunno, damn! Just... forget it. I don't know why I even asked you man."

Rafael turned to leave, a scowl forming on his face.

"Hey," you called out, looking away before he could meet your eyes. He didn't turn around, though.

"What?"

"...I'm sorry about your mom," you managed, before he could go far enough. "I hope they find her."

"Yeah," he muttered, before throwing his hood over his head.

And now your friend, not-friend, study buddy was gone. The only person you kind of got along with at all outside of just one class. Another person missing. Rafael's mom. Maybe you needed to get out of Brooklyn for college. You certainly wouldn't miss the subway all too much, you thought, crammed in-between people.

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

As soon as you got out of the station and into the street, you were met with a familiar face among the people passing by. Instead of the Visions uniform, he was in a jacket too big for him, crinkled sweatpants and purple Jordans.

Miles. Calc-wiz. Mr. Disappearing Act. Withdrawn from the school, now in front of you and definitely already getting on your nerves.

He was looking at you, a hint of surprise in his otherwise smoothed-over features.

"Miles?"

"Yeah. Can we... talk?" His cheek dimpled with the awkward half-smile you'd only seen a couple times, but you were so strangely familiar with. You didn't know whether to freak out at him in front of a crowd of people or head home and hope that he didn't follow you.

"...Sure," is what comes out of your mouth.

Just your luck.

"~Ain't no love—" Skip.

"~Ha, sicker than your average—"

"Poppa twist cabbage off instinct..." Skip.

Miles was getting sicker than average of his uncle's playlist. Maybe working in silence was better.

He took out his earbuds, setting them on his mess of a desk and picking up the screwdriver again. Uncle Aaron was busy, "out of town", as his voicemail said. Probably doing something Miles wasn't supposed to be involved in. He'd be back in a day or two, as always. Never in one place too long.

Even for someone so experienced, he knew this was his uncle's first real "vigilante" gig. Uncle Aaron wasn't getting paid, nor was he working under someone trying to solve a cold case Jeff had been involved in with his colleagues. His dad was no detective, but always seemed to want to help out, and the police were getting desperate with all the recent missing person's cases. There was no real pattern, and sometimes people would be returned just fine. That's what the police were hoping for.

Dr. Stromm had disappeared for about 2 weeks, and returned to his normal work at Oscorp. That could be excused for a vacation off of work, for all anyone knew. Wellston, however, was still missing. Probably dead. Just a couple had turned up dead. It was so unpredictable that they all seemed unrelated, but the kinds of people going missing were all of use — scientists, lawyers, bank tellers. Wellston had been getting his PhD while teaching before he went missing. All people of use to the Chameleon.

Whoever his uncle was working for at the same time as all of this likely had no idea. He was probably working for that person right now, even when they had this case to deal with.

Miles had only been up to this after his dad had passed, and he knew he wasn't as polished as Aaron — not after what happened at Oscorp. Those gauntlets couldn't focus their energy, even if they were more powerful and he could charge shockwaves through the air almost instantaneously, and he had bragged about it a little too much when they'd tested it in the garage.

Now, he had faint lines on his skin from the excess heat, and had been taking them apart and rebuilding them for weeks in his room. His visor needed work too. It was way better in depth, but the resolution sucked. Even then, he was sure he could make something better than what his uncle had. Rigorous training wasn't enough to do this sort of work. He had to do his own thing, even if he was taking up the same schtick. Eventually his uncle's beard would gray and he'd have to be the real Prowler.

He was a good guy, after all. Like his uncle, like his dad.

By deduction, the Prowler was a good guy too. But he wasn't the Prowler today. He was Miles. The Miles that had been shouted at for trying to quit school again. The Miles that was fifteen and spent his days off building crappy gear.

Maybe on a day like this he could spend time with other people like he did in middle school. Go to a fast food place, or go to Micah's house to play video games, or hang around in some parking lot and run when he and his friends accidentally set off a car alarm. The sun was setting outside his window now. It felt like those evenings where he was reluctant to be taken home by his dad, after he was at Micah's playing GTA on Micah's older brother's console, laughing and screaming, Micah's sister shouting at them to shut up from the hallway.

Miles puts the visor down, walking up to his window and pushing it open. The air didn't get any warmer around this time of year, a cold wind brushing past his face as he stuck his head out to look at the city below.

Above him was the half-finished mural. A colourful backdrop of red and blue, and purple. His dad's face without the glasses, hat without the logo, the text outline without the actual text.

"Captain Jeff Morales. Husband, Hero, Father," read the ghost of the text.

His dad wasn't missing. There was no hope of him turning up one day, and that he could leave the mural unfinished and paint it over with something else. There was no hope that he'd wake up one night and instead of finding himself grasping at air it would be his mom shaking him awake to tell him his dad had come home.

His dad was dead. His dad was facing him right now and smiling like he did every morning before he left the house. His dad was painted on a brick wall, missing his glasses.

Miles knew he wasn't smiling for him. He was smiling for the city. He was the face of PDNY, captain for half a day alive and for the rest of eternity until Brooklyn forgot him, deceased. The mural had made him feel better when he hadn't been able to leave his own bedroom and decided to get up and start it with his uncle, but now he felt all sorts of emotions swirling through him. Regret, anger, grief, all of it at the same time — only to stop right at his tear ducts, tightening his throat.

He hadn't cried back then; his mom shared the pain of the both of them, even now. Even when they went to his tombstone, she was the only one that had cried as he'd kept a reassuring hand on her back.

Selfish, were the tears that blurred his vision, not heavy enough to roll down his face.

He sat, staring, eyes stinging yet soothed by the moisture. The sun cast a halo around the building, the mural in shadow and the city behind flooded in red-orange light.

"Husband, Hero, Father."

Was he a hero before he was his father? He had painted that himself. He knew his dad was a good guy. Was he a good guy before he was a good dad?

His thoughts were interrupted with the buzz of his phone in his pocket. There was a message on the notification bar, overtaking the text he'd been yet to reply to from his mom.

Are you the miles talking to me right now 1m ago

It was you.

Cause you're acting weird

And you just read my message without taking out your phone

What the...?

no wtf are u talking abt Read 4:51PM

where ru Read 4:51PM

His fingers hovered above the keys, glancing briefly at the gauntlet at his desk.

With a guy that looks exactly like u

You're the real miles right

He wracked his brain for something, anything as he ran back towards his desk.

6 liters per hour Read 4:53PM

What???

OH

Okay calc genius help me out please?????

He let out a breath between his teeth, shoving his gauntlets in his backpack and throwing on his gear haphazardly.

The Chameleon. Becoming him.

I'm at Marge's on moore st

ok just stay there go into the bathroom Read 4:55PM

don't leave til i text u Read 4:55PM

What are u gonna do??? the restaurant is empty

He's gonna look for me

He was acting so weird if that's not u then it's probably chameleon right

So you did believe him about the Chameleon. Or maybe you were the Chameleon and just being incredibly smart. He couldn't be 100% sure. Not like he ever was. Swooping out of his window, he threw his hoodie down to hang off the fire escape stairs before starting to run up the side of his building, shoes vacuuming him to stand horizontally.

probably Read 4:55PM

ur gonna take him outside in a couple min Read 4:55PM

Why???

just trust me Read 4:55PM

ill be there in 3m Read 4:56PM

The sky was now a shade of blue-purple, the reds and oranges dissolving behind the skyline. It was getting dark, and fast.

Okay

Manoeuvering through the maze of buildings with his shoes keeping him a thousand feet from being heard or seen, Miles headed for Moore Street with the little map in his peripheral vision. When he got there, all that welcomed him was a lone street lamp that had yet to turn on, a couple of closed local grocer's and a dimly-lit diner named "Marge", a discoloured space next to it the shape of an "s". Close enough.

Sifting through the modes on his visor, he settled when he saw the outline of two people. One strangely shaped like him and one strangely shaped like you.

He climbed down a little, dimming the lights on his gear completely as he receded into a small alley. The guy definitely looked like him physically. Tall, handsome, standing outside the bathroom, shifting on his toes...? Creasing my Jordans? Seriously?

Oh, yeah he had you to deal with. And himself, apparently.

leave now Read 4:58PM

Miles had about zero idea how to, but he needed to figure it out in about 30 seconds from now.

K

You made your way out of the bathroom, and he moved to the side of the diner you were closest to from outside to get a better view.

"...Gotta go home..."

"...Lemme walk you..."

As you left the store into the empty street, he could make out the slight twinge of nervousness on your face as you looked around ― probably looking for him and finding nobody.

"Hold on, I gotta text my parents..." You took out your phone, turning yourself a little to obscure the screen.

"Yeah, that's cool." Sounded almost exactly like him. Creepy.

go into that alley on your right and run home Read 5:00PM

Ur kidding

you gotta trust me Read 5:00PM

At that moment, you took one last look at your phone before turning into the alleyway. You were just a couple quick steps into the alley when his doppelganger grabbed yourshoulder.

"What the hell are you doing, Miles?!" you shouted suddenly, trying to pull yourself free, only to be thrown against the wall of the alleyway.

"I'm doing you a favour. You're not going to school anymore," he responded, his tone suddenly flat and nothing like it was a moment ago.

"What are you talking about? I'm just trying to go home."

His doppelganger was now featureless, his face melting away into the blankness Miles still couldn't describe. The panic on your face is visible from yards away. Miles just has to catch him off-guard. Without hurting you. He could do that.

"So you are the Chameleon," you muttered, still trying to pry his hands away as his grip wrinkled your clothes further.

"Ah, so you did figure it out. Excellent." That definitely didn't sound like him anymore. "You were always the most interesting in that class of yours."

"You... You were the one who was at those after-school classes, huh? And at Oscorp. And that... fair." That you were right about. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is that I need a little something from your school, and you seem like the easiest solution."

"Couldn't you do that while you were a teacher? You got that other guy to be arrested in your place. Aren't you done?"

"It looks like you have me all figured out. Except for one small thing."

"What?"

Something glistened by your neck. Sharp. Metal. He had a knife pressed to your throat, the blade just managing to dent your skin.

"You're going to die."

Missing. Sometimes they turned up. Other times they were probably dead. If he didn't figure this out, you were dead already.

"I'm... I kind of figured that too, you know."

"Oh, really? Aren't you something?" There was something like a grin on his face, but it was too misshapen to really tell. "So unaffected. So controlled."

"How do you even... turn into these people? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Take a guess. An educated guess is always better than nothing." His voice pitched up into Wellston's awkward sing-song, repeating what he used to say in class. Near-perfectly.

"Why are you so sure you won't get caught?"

"That's not an answer, and I can't exactly reveal such things, you know."

"Not even when you're about to kill me?"

"Oh, unfortunately not."

"Go f*ck yourself." That made the man laugh. If he wasn't in this situation right now, Miles might have managed a smile at that.

"Yeah, go f*ck yourself," he muttered, voice being caught half-way into his modulator in a grainy, deep sound.

In an instant, Miles soared above the two of you, foot smashing itself right in the centre of the Chameleon's face, his knife clattering to the floor. As he stumbled back, you got up, taking the opportunity to run, footsteps hard against the pavement.

Suddenly, the Chameleon was stuck between the wall and Miles' knee, steadying himself with his hands against the brick. Miles could make out some kind of morphed look of glee on his face as his clawed hand clamped him to the wall by both sides of his neck. The lips and teeth were starting to form through the flesh, and Miles let the energy build up in the converter as the smile fell into place, cell by cell.

"You don't want to kill me," he stated, simply.

"Pretty sure I do." Miles' claws just scraped at the skin starting to form at his neck. The quiet whirr of his gauntlet starts to become audible.

"You can't kill me. I am everywhere."

If everywhere is right in front of me, I mean...

"I know what you're doing, Dmitri. It ends here."

"I know what you're doing, Prowler."

He finally sees it, what's forming on the man's face. It's him.

"One of my best students, I never would have guessed," he started, grinning wildly, with some sort of overwhemled excitement.

Miles felt his mouth go dry, his face under the mask paralysed as the one staring at him continued to smile.

"The DNA that I retrieved from you is that of... Miles Gonzalo Morales."

It was as if the shockwave forming in his gauntlet slowed with time itself as he came to stare. He was looking at himself. Smiling. Grinning. Crazed. Miles Gonzalo Morales.

"Kill me. I have my assets, and subordinates. They will end you. Your mother, Rio. The hospital she works at. Your uncle, Aaron."

The quiet whirr in his gauntlet faded into silence. He felt his hand retreat, leaving the Chameleon, still posing as Miles, grinning, unblinking, and flat against the wall.

"Oh, you've made a very good choi―"

SLAM!

Metal met with bone, an audible crack following as Miles' clawed fist met the wall, the Chameleon's face smashed between the two.

"You mother... f*cker..." he breathed out, voice choked through the sudden rush of blood, smearing against the wall as he lifted his face from it.

Miles pointed his gauntlet at him again, the whirring renewing itself to a high-pitched scream, light purple expanding between them and tearing through the alleyway like fire.

"Muerto el pollo." (Job done.)

The man's reforming grin was overtaken by the brightness of the blast, energy snapping into one focused point before hurtling through the air, right at the Chameleon.

Miles felt his ears start to ring. His body was lightweight. Airborne.

His back hit something hard, and suddenly the lightness was replaced with an erratic clawing spreading up his arm. The light flickered into sparks that led fire under his sleeve, eating away at his skin. Burning. The blindness faded away, eyes managing to focus. All he could see past the smoke was a figure approaching him, and a hysteric laugh that grew louder and instantaneously changed pitch.

"So confident," is what he could make out through the ringing in his ears that had bled through his head into a sharp, disorienting pain. "I almost thought you had me."

Ripping the burning gauntlet off of himself, he noticed something jammed in the converter as he shook the heat from his arm. Some sort of sabotaging device. He'd had just a few seconds before the burning would've made it past his skin. The Chameleon had planned this.

Looking to his other gauntlet, he noticed the same device, ripping it out before crushing it under his foot. Never twice.

Swallowing back the cough building up in the back of his throat, Miles made a move for the Chameleon, before catching his figure turn left ― running.

Coño. (F*ck.)

Launching himself up, Miles locked onto the man, hurtling through a series of alleyways, fluidly dodging every obstacle in his way as if to waste no time. He could not let him get into a crowd and disappear. This had to end here, even if he had no god damn plan and his uncle was sure to scold him when he got back. He wasn't going to let you or anyone else get killed by this crazy f*ck.

Miles threw himself down into the next alleyway, hearing heavy, fast footsteps, someone approaching in his vision.

Just a little closer.

SLAM!

He threw the Chameleon down onto the ground, noticing he'd already changed appearance.

That face. No, this wasn't the Chameleon.

It was... you. And you were looking right at him. Terrified.

"Please, please let me go," you mumbled, gasping for air in-between words... "I... You're the... Prowler, I― Please― The... That guy's after me and..."

Your head fell against the concrete, an exhausted look in your eyes as you caught your breath.

"Please. I didn't... I didn't do anything. I can keep quiet about you, I haven't told the police anything. About Oscorp. Nothing."

"I know it's you, Chameleon." You would've ran far away by now, he was sure.

"I―I swear I'm not. I'm not him, I don't know how to prove it to you, but... I called my friend for help and... he never came. Please. Please let me go. I don't know where the Chameleon is right now."

Another set of footsteps came towards the both of you.

"I'm right here, Prowler," emerged another voice from the alley.

It was... you?

"Come on. Weren't you looking for me?" the other you continued, half-hidden in shadow. "Come get me."

So the you on the floor... was actually you. And this...

"Please, that's... that's him, you've gotta let me go," the you that was on the ground muttered, exasperated. There was a waver in your voice. In the way your eyes widened looking at him. Almost like confusion.

The Chameleon was right there. Admitting that he was in fact the Chameleon. While he was trying to run away.

"Please," he heard below him, a quiet, desperate whisper in the silence.

You both looked identical. Even though he'd injured the Chameleon, the both of you were unscratched. You both sounded the same too, from what he could decipher. No real way to tell you apart. And his only answer right now felt like a trick.

He kept eyes on the you standing before him, barely making out a face. Something was there, in the way that you looked, the way you stood. Something strange, something he couldn't figure out fast enough to make any decision.

And then, he felt a little pinch. One that suddenly exploded and tore through his flesh, wrangling with every one of his nerves as his body seized. You had lost your scared, desperate expression, your face now distorting along with his vision into that of a smile.

"I understand," a voice started, ringing through his head as if it was everywhere. "You want to help me."

The pain was clawing its way through his body from a point in his leg. He turned his head, noticing the discarded needle beside him. He'd managed to ease his hand just close enough to administer it. You ― no, the Chameleon, lifted himself from the ground, before Miles felt his head spin hard with a kick.

"I admire you, your wit," he called out, letting out a laugh as he started to walk towards you. "Turning against your own savior. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful."

No, no... There was... there was no way you were working with him. There was no way you...

"You have proven yourself. You'll be better than... than that Garrett fool. I've changed my mind."

Miles rummaged in his utility belt for something, anything. He had no idea what he'd been given, but it was already running through his blood, reaching his brain and poisoning every part of it.

"Your friend over there is going to be unconscious in about half a minute. Why don't you take care of him? I'll be a fool to kill you once you do."

Get up, Miles.

His head throbbed with the sound of your footsteps, each one getting louder and louder. His limbs were weakening. He could barely lift his head.

Get up!

"Dad... Dad? No no no... Get up, get up!"

The gauntlet was slowly slid off of him, now in your hands as his arm fell uselessly onto the ground in front of him.

The gauntlet clipped onto your arm, fingers moving as yours did. He felt the metal claws just scrape his helmet, a faint clink echoing through his skull.

Miles didn't want to look at your face, but he couldn't find it in him to look anywhere else. There was that something from before in your expression that he couldn't quite place, and he still didn't have an answer. It bothered him, for some damn reason. Not the fact that he had his own weapon pointed to his brain as he was losing consciousness. Not the fact that he couldn't move. Not the fact that his last thoughts were about the look on your face and not his mom, or his dad.

Whirrr...

That brightness that the Chameleon had been staring at before was now staring right at him. Overwhelming, blinding, all-encompassing. He felt the faint heat on his skin, as his eyelids grew heavy. Something like warmth in contrast to the cold metal, if just for a second. Something like knowing in your eyes. Something hopeful, saving, loving. Even if just for a second. Even if his brain had made it up to let him succumb.

He wished he could smile, and not be terrified. He wished he could be like his dad, who had smiled.

"Take care of your mom for me, Miles. I ain't gonna be around forever."

And he reached for his helmet. To show you his face, to hope you'd stop once you saw him. He reached, before his arm fell limp beside him once more.

Sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Hey, hello?"

"Hey!"

"Prowler? ...Are you dead?"

God, what did you have to do if he didn't respond...? Breathing, pulse...

"What the..." you heard, before he exploded into a painful-sounding coughing fit, tinged by some kind of voice changer. The Prowler lifted his head, and you could make out az kind of shadow where his eyes were behind the dull, unlit screen. "Huh...?"

"Hey, uh. The... Chameleon..."

Gesturing to the pile on the floor, the Prowler seemed to tense a little at the sight. It was the Chameleon, or... what was left of him. His face charred and caved in by the likes of a certain purple energetic blast. Right, you, had to explain that, the de-powered weapon in your hands.

"Sorry for... I didn't know what I was doing, that was―"

"You killed him?" came out a quiet, modulated voice.

That was...

You killed him. With the Prowler's weapon.

You were defending yourself. You were defending him. That man was a...

Thunk!

The metallic arm hit the ground as it rolled out of your arms, looking into the hollow shadows of the Prowler's eyes.

You didn't know anything about any of these people, and you were deep into their world. It was one that you had never thought you'd see, and now you had nothing to dig yourself out of it. You decided to trick him and when Miles was too late to figure it out you had...

You had killed someone. Turned the blast on him within a split second, watching it sear through his skull in a merciless flurry, stab after stab of burning hot energy wracking more and more screams. Right until the weapon had run out of energy. Until your finger grew numb from the trigger inside the device and the alleyway had gone silent. The man that had haunted your mind for months was unmoving before you, ripped of all features, all life.

Murder. Manslaughter. This man had connections. They'd come after you. After everyone you knew and loved. After Miles.

You should've stayed home.

The ache of adrenaline surged through your heart, your muscles, begging. Begging you to move. To run. To get up.

Get up. Run. Run away. Scream for help. Do something.

You felt the scratch of brick, arms enveloping the rest of you as you backed into the wall.

Hide.

All the breath in your lungs seemed to leave at once as you desperately tried to breathe it back in, hearing the air rush in and out of your mouth over and over. It was loud. So loud. The blast had been so loud. He had screamed so loud―

"Hey."

The hand on your shoulder was warm, free of any metal.

"It's... alright," you heard him say.

How could he say that?

"How can you say that?" Your voice was muffled. Wavering. Pathetic.

Would they believe you? With that stupid, pathetic, voice, whoever it was that found you ― would they believe you?

"How can you say that...?" you repeated, pressing your face further into your knees. The touch on your tensed shoulder felt offensive. Mocking.

"You're gonna be okay."

"How am I gonna be okay?"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"How do you know that?"

You were looking at him now, breath hitched, eyes wide. You tried to sound frustrated, angry, but all that came out of your throat was a sound that told the Prowler "I am scared" in every language.

The Prowler hadn't killed you. He was comforting you. In any other circumstance, you could've laughed at the thought. To your knowledge, this Prowler hadn't killed anyone, or put everyone he loved in severe danger. Maybe you were worse than him.

"Why won't you answer any of my questions...?" you mumbled hopelessly, burying your face in your hands. You could smell concrete, dust, and ash ― invisible, yet incriminating.

Hiss... Click!

You felt hands wrap around your wrists, carefully pulling yours away from your own face. Just as you looked up, you could see the mask dismantling itself, disappearing behind his head.

What was left was a face. The Prowler's face.

No, this is...

Brown, maybe green-ish eyes. They were a smooth coppery colour under the dim light, bright among the shadows underneath his eyes. A black-red was drying on his skin, under his nose and creeping past his cracked lips. Two braids, coming unfurled at the ends, coming all the way back up to the top of his head. A soft face with harshness painted all over it. An exhausted, pained and worried expression.

"Hey, pana."

The face you had so prayed to see blurred into a watery mess as you threw your arms around him, squeezing your eyes shut against his jacket. His arms followed, settling over yours, one palm circling your back and the other settled between your shoulders.

You didn't think you'd held anyone tighter. You didn't know someone could hold to the point that their arms were shaking around you.

"Miles..."

You felt his head rest beside yours, the contours of his face melding against your shoulder. Warmth was running down your face ― blooming in your chest.

"I've got you."

"Mij— Oh... Oh my!"

You'd scrubbed your eyes hard as you could, and Miles had fixed himself up into a giant hoodie and jeans, but you were almost certain that the woman in front of you was utterly convinced that the both of you had been run over by a subway train. Miles' mom, standing with a vacuum cleaner that contributed nothing to the silence. Her jaw was inching closer to the floor the longer the silence stretched out.

"Uh... hola, mami. This is my friend," Miles offered, not sounding any less like he'd been met face first with the headlights of New York public transportation.

"Hi, Mrs... Morales."

The woman propped the vacuum cleaner against the wall, letting out a quiet sigh. She had beautiful curly hair, and was now wearing the sharp-softness of her son's face in a polite, and concerned smile. You didn't want to turn to check if Miles still had blood on his face.

"Is this a bad time...?" you started. "I can—"

"Oh, no, no, I just... I haven't even made dinner yet, I didn't expect—" The woman lets out another breath, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so rude. What are you two... What have you been up to?"

"We just... you know," Miles gestured with his hands, charading less than nothing in the air.

"You know...?" she replied, eyes squinting.

"I uh, already ate. Don't worry about it, Mrs. Morales," you continued, giving her what you hoped looked like a smile on your face. "Miles just wanted to show me something. It'll be quick."

"Uh, yeah. That."

"You're not staying for dinner?" she called out, as Miles dragged you into his room. "I was gonna make pastelón—"

"I'll come help you in a sec, mami."

Miles closed the door to his room, and the two of you shared a look as you heard the long, muffled sigh from outside. With the sound of the vacuum cleaner whirring in the hallway and disappearing into another room, the two of you sat on the edge of the twin-size bed, the frame creaking uncomfortably.

The room wasn't particularly big, crowded with posters and various newspaper clippings — many about the Prowler. There were crates tucked away beside his closet, faces of toy figurines and comic books peeking out of them. A lone screwdriver sat on his desk, a stack of notebooks beside it. The backpack you'd seen him take to school was hanging on the back of his chair, a study guide for "Invisible Man" peeking out of it. All that was on his bedside table other than papers was a frame. A young boy, missing a tooth, on the shoulders of an older man, the two of them beaming through the picture.

"You hurt or anything?" he asked quietly, making you remember that he was next to you. "Like, injured?"

"No, I'm... fine." You took half of a breath before your lungs started to ache, swallowing back the dryness of your throat. Mostly fine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. My mom's a nurse, so... I kinda..."

"Oh... Yeah, yeah." Huh.

Mrs. Morales certainly didn't seem to know about her son's... part-time job.

You noticed a set of blueprints on the wall, resembling the clawed arms he had stashed away without you or his mom seeing.

"You made those...? The claw-glove things?"

"They're gauntlets."

It was somewhat like the tone of voice he used when he was explaining a calculus question — not condescending, but somewhat tired and fed-up.

"Right..." Gauntlets. Sure.

The vacuuming stopped, and a few moments later the clinking of cookware could be heard.

"You staying for dinner?"

"Huh...? Um, I don't wanna bother your mom."

"Please...? I'm gonna get it if you go home without eating." Something about that made you laugh, even if it was a half-hearted sound that fizzled out before it could really sound like one.

"She seems nice," you mused.

"She is. She tries."

Something of a smile tugged at his lips as a quick snort of air left him, his eyes now on yours.

"I got a lot of explaining to do, huh?" His smile faded a little as the words left his mouth.

"You do. Maybe... Maybe not now, though."

"Yeah. Not now."

In your peripheral, you could make out his arm inching closer to yours. The tips of his fingers just brushed your knuckles, leaving just a spark of feeling against your skin. His throat bobbed a little as he swallowed, and—

"Miles, ¡ven a cortame estas cebollas! (Come and cut these onions for me!)"

"Oh! Um— Okay!"

The bed squeaked again as he stood up, and you could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek. You closed your hand as the lingering feeling of his touch disappeared.

"...You sure I can stay for dinner?"

"You sure you just asked me that?"

"Alright, alright."

You gave him a little more of a smile, and you could see him fighting to not return it as he looked back at you.

"i'm gonna... go and—"

"Yeah, you do that, Miles."

He handed you his phone, or, a phone.

"You can... play some music, if you want. It's connected to that speaker. Just not too loud, yeah?"

You noticed there was no SIM card in it. He pointed to the little speaker sitting by the window sill, peeking out behind a hung up jacket and a school blazer.

"...Thanks."

The door to his room shut, and the murmured voices of Miles and his mom faded as you selected a song. You recognised some of them, ones you'd heard people sing along to on the street or in the cafeteria of your school. This one stood out, though.

It started slow, and the man's voice was rich, full of life and emotion. It was strangely melancholic against the uplifting instrumentals.

"~Ain't no love, in the heart of the city..."

You stood up, walking to the window to get a better listen of it. Lifting up the blinds, your eyes caught something in the darkness. A giant painting of Jefferson Morales. Miles' dad. It was half-finished, but his smile was there.

You couldn't help but think how he looked so much like Miles.

"~Ain't no love, cause you ain't around..."

An almost inaudible rustle caught your attention as you tuned to look at the jacket you had touched. Something had fallen out of its pocket while you were trying to move the speaker. It was a piece of paper, something written on it.

Reaching down, you moved to put it back in the pocket, before noticing what was peeking out of it.

Unfolding just the edge of it, you recognised the title of a Spanish lesson you had a while ago, back when Rafael had been bothering you endlessly. Opening it up entirely, you found what he'd been making fun of Miles for.

There were a series of drawings around scrawled Spanish vocabulary and messy grammar rules. One was of your teacher, Mrs. Hernández, turned away, writing on the board. The other was of the picture of the landmark in the article you had been given, "Arco de"-something. The colour of the building was done in yellow highlighter, but looked rather technical and accurate nonetheless.

The one on the back made you almost drop the paper.

It was you, with such a likeness. Some lines had been erased and re-drawn around your mouth, as if he'd been trying to decide on an expression. Within the creases of the paper you were holding right now, though, you found yourself smiling — just slightly, like if you'd been laughing at something with the rest of your class. Your head was tilted slightly downwards. The drawing version of you was just a little cuter than you were sure you looked like, Miles' stylisation making your eyes shine a little and your lips curve just the right way.

By the time your stomach had stopped fluttering, the song was coming to a close. You quickly re-crumpled the paper and carefully put it back into the jacket, walking over to sit on his bed again.

"~Ain't no love, in the heart of this town..."

"...You never come back this late, mijo..."

"...We just bumped into each other and started talking. You know, like how at the store..."

"...Your tías are different, Miles..."

He really does have a lot to explain, you thought to yourself, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting up, just slightly.

Your questions would just have to wait until after dinner.

my lovely jubly taglist: @noetophat @sakura-onesan @bakugouswaif @phoenixinthefiles @daydreaming-en-pointe @sp1derw1re @kvvrc @spookyscaryskeletrans @proudgojofucker  @spam-1 @playboifenty @hobiebrownismygod @kissingkzuha @nyumeii @uwukiity @itzmeme @shittingonyourgrave @theyluvbix @kezibear @theseustimes

thank you for reading! epilogue hopefully coming soon 👍 reblogs + replies are appreciated 💗 find the rest of my writing in my atsv masterlist here!

[thunder-wolf64]

Ugh okay I'm about to get very not silly.

Content warning for: Sexual Assult, Body image issues, self harm, probably some depression.

Hmm. I want to talk about this incase I can give strength to anyone else. I know my problems are not as bad as others, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt and it's not valid.

Ive mentioned my fear of small children, I've mentioned really not liking a family friend (to a point that being forced to stay in a cabin with them made me feel so bad I dug my nails into my skin and scarred my arm and hand)

This all partly relates to one incident many years ago. I dont remember how old I was? Must have been earlier middle school?

The family friends I'm referring to have a son. He's a lot younger than me. He's neurodivergent in some way, he doesn't have the best idea of social anything.

I was staying at the family friends' cabin, my family and theirs. There was a guest cabin. I had just taken a shower to clean off the lake water. I was standing in the guest cabin looking at myself in the mirror by the beds, brushing my hair. I had major body image issues with good ol' puberty. I hated how I looked and i felt shameful when my shirt clung to my chest extra tight. I knew I would dry off more, and it would be less form fitting. I thought i could just stay in the guest cabin until then.

Then all the little kids, the boy and my two sisters, burst in, chasing each other around as kids do. I was still brushing my hair.

Something immature boys find funny is the word "boobs" he laughed at me and kept repeating the word. I adjusted my shirt as best I could I wanted to tell him off, but I was scared I would get in trouble if I made him upset.

I went back to looking in the mirror and brushing my hair. He ran past, giving my boob a poke as he sprinted out the door, my sisters in tow. That was it. That is what the warning was for. A touch. Over in a second.

I was panicked, I didn't know what to do. I sat on the bed for awhile, crying and thinking of what to do. It felt like forever. And as embarrassing as it is to say... at that time in my mind I felt as if it was my fault, as if I had a sign pointing to me saying "touch me". And with that in mind, I calmed myself down, told myself i wouldn't say anything, and walked back to the main cabin.

And when I walked in, it was tense. The boy was getting a talking to from his mother, and mine walked over to me.

She asked me if i was okay.

I said I was fine, confused. Thinking its not like he shoved me, punched me, hurt my physically. My mind did not corelate the emotional anguish rushing though my head as I felt even more shame that people knew. that they had told on themselves somehow.

I was not okay, i am still not okay. And it really sucks. I can't blame everything on one incident. But oh man can I corelate a lot of my problems with that incident.

Tight clothes made me feel like scum. Ive only ever worn sports bras that leave me with terrible chest pain. I still cant stand a tight fitting shirt, a v-neck. I can't stand my feminine traits. Because that's what got me into the mess in the first place.

Something so small can mess you up so much. And I'm sick of not acknowledging it. Everyone has forgotten or said nothing. And I feel like I'm going crazy.

So if you made it this far, your struggles are valid. Your feelings are valid. No matter what happend, everyone takes things differently.

And i don't know if I'll can call this sexual assault, but it feels like it was, and that's what should matter.

Everyone stay safe

[sombredancer]

Li Lun, a villain I feel for (Pt. 2/4)

So, by the beginning of the drama LL says that he wants to kill all of ZYZ’s new friends. In fact, he just likes talking. He says: “Let’s kill ZYZ’s friends starting with Baize Goddess, like the previous time” so the viewer thinks he killed previous goddess off, but later we learn that he didn't do it. Even if he has a perfect opportunity to kill someone of ZYZ’s new friends without ruining his own schemings, he does pretty nothing to achieve it. He just stands and talks. Because he doesn’t really want to kill anyone, including ZYZ. He wants to attract ZYZ’s attention and to make ZYZ stop ghosting him.

Li Lun speaks to Big Bad in Mask while possessing a courtesan. Meanwhile, he lends Truth Eye to Ao Ying so she could see his true self.

LL joins hands with Big Bad in Mask, not knowing he was the one who tortured demons in that bloody dungeon (yeah, LL is not the smartest guy of the Universe). By doing it he tries to achieve his own goals. First, he wants to break free from his custody, and second, he wants to get attention from ZYZ, who ignores him.

In order to break his chains LL works as matchmaker for ZYZ and his girlfriend, so they could fall in love with each other and find and unite pieces of Baize token, because only if the token is intact, it can be broken and its spells can be dissipated. He is not a saint, so he kills some folks (by possessing them or just because) and tricks other demons into helping him, although he is said to value his own kind more than anything. It means he goes through break-up with ZYZ so badly, that even his principles fade into the background for his anger and pain. Or it’s just another script flaw.

Li Lun behaves himself very much as a ghosted ex-boyfriend (in fact, he is), and I understand him well. He goes through stages of acceptance: throws himself from denial (ZYZ is no better than me, why don't you treat him the way he treated me?) through anger (ZYZ, I’ll kill your friends and make you suffer!) to bargaining (Why does he find you better than me? What if you would be like me, would he still love you?).

To talk about his feelings with someone, he uses the only way to leave his dark lifeless place of imprisonment, which is possessing others. At first, this ability and an omnipotence of it looks intimidating, but later we learn that he cuts his lifespan by a half each time he does it, so his need to talk to someone is very desperate. (Later, LL says that it was his way to enjoy the world and freedom but GJM never showed us such a use of this LL's ability). ZYZ knows that destroying LL’s leaves (through which he possesses bodies) will hurt Li Lun, yet he does it anyway, and LL kinda... enjoys it bitterly. As if the fact of him being not ignored by ZYZ is more important that his wellbeing. It's miserable and pathetic, but understandable.

And anytime LL tries to get some answers for his questions, ZYZ and his friends say something like “You don’t understand a thing, I won’t bother to explain, though.” or “We have friends and ZYZ is our boyfriend, and you are a lonely loser!”. How it supposes to help LL understand his wrongs? I have no idea.

Ghosting your ex is the sure way to make him a villain.

LL breaks free from his jail and destroys a “support beam” of the “wall” around demon ghetto. An accent on “I’m destroying the wall” is strange, because I can’t understand the gain demons will have when they aren't in their ghetto anymore (and it obviously should be). Would Great Demons even the scores of victims if not only humans would catch and torture demons but demons would also catch and torture humans, or what? However, it sounds pretty fair, as long as said Baize Goddess’ and ZYZ’s protection of demons consist in only preventing them from going outside their ghetto without passport, LOL.

Although LL is free from the seal, he is still dying from the fatal wound causing by ZYZ 8 years ago. His true body is smoldering slowly, so he has got not so much time left.

For plot purposes, the main heroes need to visit LL’s birthplace to get the last cup of magic water to fix Baize token and to restore a “support beam” of ghetto’s wall. What would a normal villain do, knowing about it? Yes, he would spill it. What does LL do? He, in fact, hands it over to the main heroes. Yes, stained, but LL was a student of Mountain God, too, so he could know that there is a way to restore the pureness of magic water, and the best way to destroy the token for good is to spill this water.

During their visit LL kidnaps ZYZ’s girlfriend (it is funny that the main heroes don’t notice it for something like first five minutes 😅) and has a phycologist session with her (in which she is a psychologist). They have a superstrange conversation, something like: LL: “ZYZ supposed to be my friend but ghosted me for no obvious for me reason and I’m hurt!”. WX: “Oh, it’s because you are a loser with no friends, ZYZ did everything right!”.

Then ZYZ and his current boyfriend come and LL tries once more to tell ZYZ that he is hurt, but ZYZ has absolutely no desire to talk to him or to explain to him something and acts like they were never boyfriends and LL is his archenemy.

So, they fight and ZYZ hurts LL with Everburning Wood once more, now deliberately. LL dies, and although ZYZ has red eyes at this moment he never thinks of LL again. So, LL is right: ZYZ is a hypocrite with double standards. It is such a contrast with the stories of the main heroes and ancient dragon gods, in which killing your friend for Higher Goals is a tragedy.

But there is a plot twist ahead!

Here is Part 1 Here is Part 3

[redux-iterum]

I keep marveling at how you write Darkstripe because it really is, like…

The clan WANTS to like its members. The clan HAS to want to like their clanmates because that cohesion is what they survive and thrive upon. The clan makes efforts, in the best of times, and Darkstripe in particular has never been one of the cats who were caught breaking the social contract enough to be shunned about it.

But. But he just keeps DIGGING? He’s not even in a grave, he’s sitting on the grass, but man is he determined to make one. There is no barrel here and still he’s finding the bottom of it.

He doesn’t even have to be nice or good. He could be NEUTRAL. He could be neutral-to-cold and it would be such an improvement and everyone would breathe a sigh of relief because *finally* they got something from him.

But he just keeps hand-crafting beds to lie in out of nowhere. He just keeps snubbing people who could love him, keeps sneering at people who reach out, keeps doing absolutely vile shit when literally NOBODY ASKED DARKSTRIPE. He could’ve kept his big mean mouth shut and he wouldn’t have gotten hit. He could’ve shut the hell up and sit the hell down and HE WOULD NOT BE IN THIS MUCH TROUBLE.

He just. IS SO BAD??!!? It’s really impressive that you managed to make him this bad. Not even Fireheart likes this dude and Fireheart has liked literally everyone he’s met except the literal serial murderers. Man is a walking beacon of light and acceptance and open, welcoming love that demands nothing except your returned good will. And Darkstripe hates his guts.

I should probably save this ask for the end of the book, but it's so god damn good that I HAVE to share it with you all right now. I can't really say anything to it without risking spoilers, but let it be known, I love this fucking ask.

[polargemini]

So I have a plot for a fic where Wade believes Peter Parker is experimenting on people (like on the comic) and this is like part of the scene when Wade attempts to kill him.

————

Wade doesn’t go right away after he shoots Parker. He stays there, right in front of him, seeing how his face morphs into a new expression. One full of affliction.

“W—“ Parker tries to say something. But his chest moves erratically, hindering any attempt to speak, and the bloods flows out of the injury, staining his lab coat.

He doesn’t have a lot of time left. That much is evident. He’s minutes away from dying, painfully, feeling each second the excruciating agony of the bullet near his heart — until it stops beating.

The fact that Wade isn’t taking the time to prolong this, to make Parker feel the same torment of the people who suffered at his hands, it’s a small courtesy to Spidey. Even if he never discovers that Parker was taking advantage of him, using him to cover his wicked purposes, Wade hopes that making it fast will make it better.

Because he isn’t supposed to be killing anyone. Less Spidey’s boss, the guy Spidey idolizes.

Wade had promised himself he wouldn’t kill again. Not after he changed. He was finally able to be someone different, someone worthy of being near Spidey. But after he found out Parker was behind the experiments, it was impossible to stand still and believe that Parker deserved a second chance. He’s probably throwing out the window all the progress of these few months.

But he has to do this.

Parker’s death will be fast — as fast as the bleed out takes — but he’s not leaving earth without suffering first. That’s why Wade aimed purposely to a spot near Parker’s heart and not directly at it.

He looks how Parker puts his hands around his chest, like he could somehow stop the bleeding just with that. What an idiot. For someone who is famous for being a scientist, he must be aware anything he does will be useless. There’s no going back.

And yet.

“W—“ Parker tries again.

He should be on the floor by now, but for some reason he keeps wanting to talk. It really is bothering Wade.

"Why? Are asking why? Gonna keep pretending til’ the end? You aren't fooling me, Parker. You know exactly what you did,” Wade snaps and Parker flinches at his words. Like they hurt more than the wound on his body.

"Wa—" Peter insists.

Wade grunts. “Is it wait now? C’mon, Parker. Not gonna spent my time trying to guess your last words. And if you’re really asking me to wait, think again. I bet they asked the same, and you—“

Wade groans, and then he aims the gun at Parker’s head, to his forehead. There’s no reason not to pull the trigger. Even if Wade spares him the pain ending things now, there’s no way for Parker to survive. He will accomplish what he came to do.

Wade analyzes the face behind the muzzle, and to his surprise, Parker doesn’t have the face of a murderer. There’s no guilt, not even a hint of anger for being discovered. Or that shame and sobbing that Wade has presence sometimes, when the people he had killed realized it was time to face the consequences of their actions.

If something, there's an indescribable pain in Parker’s eyes. He looks hurt, and it’s a different hurting, not the one he must be feeling from the bullet. It’s like he can’t understand why Wade did that to him. And not for the whole experimenting-on-people-matter. Nor the bullet matter. Its seems deeper, which doesn’t make sense.

Spidey talks a lot about Parker’s job, but Wade never got to meet him. Not until now. This is the first time they’re looking face to face. How should he take that expression? It’s feels personal, but there’s no way for it to be.

“Whatever,” Wade says as he holsters the gun. He isn’t wasting more bullets on this asshole. He turns his back, and walks away. He isn’t giving Parker the satisfaction of having someone to hear his last words — if he even manages to talk at some point.

All the time on his way out of the building, he tries to shake out of his head the look on those brown eyes.